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thexsilentxwordsmith · 10 days

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Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

From the ask here

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Seeing Simon on his motorcycle is something that awakens a new yearning inside you, but when you get your own bike and start riding alongside him, the way he gets you hot and bothered makes it worse. You need him to fuck you on his bike and you hope your plan will make it happen.

Word Count: 5 k

Warnings:

The first time you ever saw Simon Riley perched atop his black motorcycle, in that moment some innate part of your brain was awakened and you were never the same. There was just something so incredibly erotic about the way those thick thighs straddled over the sides, the way his arms looked with their muscles bulging, straining his black short sleeved t-shirt wrapped around them as he leaned forward to reach the handlebars. Of course his helmet with the blacked out visor didn’t hurt either, not when paired with his sleeve of tattoos. He was a vision even more than usual and you were suddenly hooked.

Then he took you for a ride along the open highway where he could really show you the power his bike had and that solidified your need to be involved in his hobby. Adrenaline, that was and still is Simon’s favorite part of being on the open road, his bike vibrating underneath him as the wind rushed past his body, and now that you had that first taste of it all, it was yours too.

Whatever you needed to do to keep getting to look at him like that, to keep feeling that rush, you were more than willing to do it.

Whenever he was on leave you two found yourselves on his bike, roaming the city on long night rides just to feel the wind on your skin and the rush of speed under your bodies. That was until he made an off-handed joke one day about getting you your own bike so that you could drive alongside him and then suddenly you were expressing how much you actually had been thinking about it. Sharing his hobby with someone, especially you, was something he has always wanted. To think you could experience the same thrills had him rushing to take you bike shopping the very next day so he could start teaching you.

You picked it all up relatively fast and before you knew it you had your license and regular drives have now become a part of your routine whenever your military man is in. Getting on the highway, opening the bike up as you go faster and faster, weaving through traffic with Simon always right by your side, there is something exhilarating about it all. And now you had the best view of that gorgeous specimen of a man.

Being able to see you on your own bike makes Simon have a taste of his own medicine because fuck did you look a goddamn beauty. Is this how you feel looking at him? The way it makes your back arch, full juicy arse just calling his name, has him salivating whenever he gets to see it. And he can’t help what it causes him to do; it’s not his fault when you look the way you do. The first time he ever pulled his little stunt, a ritual of sorts that he has to engage in every time you’re out driving together, you had a hard time focusing on the road after.

Bringing his bike close beside yours, he reaches out and runs his hand over the curve of your ass, making sure that he does it long enough that the other motorists behind you both can see him claim his hot biker vixen as his. You belong to him and he wants everyone that can see to know it.

And fuck does it drive him wild and have you reeling every time.

This goes on for quite a while, and all the times he’s touched you while riding have conjured up a new fantasy of yours and you finally decide you have to do something about it. Lately you’ve been thinking: what type of partner would you be if you didn’t return the favor? Simon deserves to be just as flustered too, right? It’s not because you need him to fuck you on his bike, nope, not all.

Is it strange? Maybe. Will he go for it? You aren’t entirely sure, but one thing you do know is that you at least have to try. And if it works out, you know he’ll enjoy it too. On one of the last few nights of his leave, you decide that you’ve got nothing to lose and put your plan into motion.

“You know, it’s been so long since you took me on a ride with you,” you put your case to him tonight. “Like we used to. Me on the back of your bike, wrapped around you tight, you speeding through the lanes with the wind rushing past us. Remember that? I used to get so excited to see you just so you’d take me out with you.”

Those hazel eyes stare back at you curiously; of course he remembers. Christ, how could he ever fucking forget? Still, it’s intriguing to him why you would be bringing this up now. “What’s got ya all nostalgic sweetheart, hmm?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow. “Ya don’t like ridin’ beside me?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Just thought it’d be nice to be close to you again is all, since you’ll be leaving soon,” you say as you bite your lip with a subtle coyness while you stare back at him with those tempting doe eyes that make him melt.

How can he say no to that? To his girl wanting to be near him? Absolutely fucking never.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he responds as he gets up while pointing towards the bedroom, “well, go get dressed then. Can’t say no to ya when ya look at me like that.”

Simon is already sitting on the bike out front ready to go when you emerge from the front door in a short skirt, tight tank top, and leather boots and once again he is reminded just how lucky he is to be with you. This just keeps getting better and better for the ol boy.

Climbing on the back and securing yourself around him, helmets on and visors down, Simon takes off into the night. He can feel the pressure from your hands wrapped tightly around his waist, pressing into his abs as you hold on, the warmth of your chest against his back, your thighs saddled up against his, and he wonders why you both don’t do this more often.

The lights of the city sparkle around you, cutting through the evening like stars to illuminate your way as Simon drifts through the streets, making his way to the highway like he always does. Your heart is beginning to beat faster as you wait for the opportune moment to implement your plan and you silently hope that it works.

On the highway, weaving in and out of traffic, Simon detects the first signs of something happening behind him. The movement is subtle at first and he almost misses that both hands aren’t pinned against his stomach anymore until he detects the warmth from your palm as it comes to rest on top of his thigh. He looks down through the visor of his helmet to where your hand lays as he wonders curiously to himself about the intentions of your actions.

Just what the hell is she up to? he thinks to himself as he turns his attention back onto the darkened road studded with streetlights.

The answer is quickly approaching as he feels your hand on the move again, now inching towards the middle of his broad thighs, moving and stopping, moving and stopping, to the crotch of his jeans and suddenly he understands just as you make first contact with the mass contained inside.

A shiver runs up Simon’s spine and you can feel his back shudder against your chest as you start to rub over the swell, your touches heavy and full of purpose. Over and over again your palm makes purchase with his crotch and you can feel the muscles in his back tense. A part of him wants to pull your hand off so that can refocus, but it feels too damn good to get you to quit. Fuck, the pressure from your hand and the vibration from the bike has him so hard he can barely see straight.

He needs to find some place to stop and fast; if he’s going to come in something it is not going to be his pants, it’s going to be you.

Up ahead he sees an exit fast approaching and he quickly transfers over to the lane and takes it, not having a plan, but hopeful that he will be able to find something satisfactory enough. Brown eyes dart from one side of the street to the other frantically searching for something, anything so that he can pull off. The sign for a large parking garage is illuminated just up ahead; it’ll have to do. He won’t be able to focus for much longer; the pressure of your hand rubbing against his cock mixed with the vibrations from the bike leaves him gnawing at the bit with a need that he desperately has to satisfy. It wouldn’t be safe to keep going, not with the way his limbs are starting to tingle.

Simon drives through the first couple of levels and is glad to see it relatively empty save for a few straggling cars spaced far apart. Perfect, that means no one will be around to disturb him until he has had his way with you. He continues on a couple of levels that are completely empty as he puts you both more in the middle of the structure just to be sure you will be all alone until finally he drives to the back of the garage and pulls into the shadow, parking the bike and shutting it off.

“Hop off,” he says and you immediately do as you're told, taking off your helmet and straightening your skirt as you make it to your feet.

You stand there close to his thigh as he removes his helmet and sets it on the ground on the other side of the bike, running his fingers through his short hair to fluff it up from being crushed underneath. As he sits back up his tattooed arm quickly reaches out behind your head where he grabs your hair into a ponytail in his fist, keeping your head locked while his opposite hand palms around your waist as he leans in with a smirk across his lips and a glimmer in those coffee-colored eyes.

“Whatcha think you’re doin’, sweetheart? Playin’ games, hmm?” he asks as he stares back into your face.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, your tone playful and coy. You know damn well what you are doing and he isn’t dumb enough to think you don’t.

He glares back at you skeptically. “Right.”

“What?” you dismiss him. “I thought you didn’t mind a bit of touching when we ride? Always grabbing me; thought you’d enjoy a bit of fun.”

There it is; this is payback for all the times he’s made his move while you were out cruising together. And fuck, has it worked to perfection.

Simon rips his hand from your waist and wraps it around your wrist so that he can pull your hand forward and place it right up against the stiffening peak straining against the zipper of his form fitting jeans.

“So this is whatcha fuckin’ wanted, yeah?” he asks, breathiness in his gruff tone as your hand makes contact with the rigid bulge. “Gettin’ me so fuckin’ hard I can’t even be bothered ta wait till we get back home ta fuck ya?”

Can’t wait? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? God, you hope so. “What do you mean?” you ask, faking your ignorance as you rub your palm over the swell while maintaining eye contact. “We aren’t going home?”

A deep hum echoes through the atmosphere as he bites his bottom lip; you’ve started something that can’t be stopped now and the way your hand continues to stimulate him, he doesn’t think you want it to anyway. “No,” he says with a shake of his head, “ya wanted to start all this on my bike, that’s fine. Guess I deserve it. But now…I’m gonna make damn sure I finish ya on it.”

As you stand there silently waiting to see what he does next, Simon shifts back in the seat and helps you climb back onto the bike, but facing him so that he can lay you over the fuel tank. He plants his feet firmly onto the ground to keep the setup steady and pulls your body down, those rough hands pushing your skirt up off your hips to your waist as he forces your legs open wider so he can get himself between them.

Thank God you’ve worn something easy to get into. Or was that your plan all along? Doesn’t really matter much now; he’s in.

Simon looks down and his eyes catch sight of a dark spot in the crotch of your panties. He presses his hand up against the mound of your cunt and the pressure makes you twitch, your back arching up off the tank as he feels what he had just suspected: you’re a little damp.

“Seems someone’s already stirred up,” he comments as his hand releases the pressure only to press in tight all over again in a pattern that matches his increasing heart rate. “Ya like it, don’t ya baby? The way tha bike vibrates ‘tween your legs? Like the way it hums against ya ‘till your clit is swollen?”

Simon’s hard-on throbs harshly against the zipper of his pants and into your naked thigh, tenting the fabric while he grinds it into the muscle as you wrap your legs around his hips; you have to hold on as you can’t stop the way your body jerks the longer his touch prods against those sensitive lips. Just the pressure alone after the drive is enough to make you whimper inside your closed mouth.

“Have ya been thinkin’ ‘bout somethin’ like this? Me fuckin’ ya raw while you’re on this thing?”

Releasing his hand, he walks those long fingers over the top of your clothed pussy to the waistband of your panties so that he can slip them inside and back down to the moist slit waiting eagerly for their touch and there it is, the unmistakable sound of his breath hitching as his hand makes contact. God, you always feel so fucking good.

He uses his two middle fingers to part the lips of your slit and run them along the length to gather all the wetness he can on his digits so that once he finds your entrance he can easily slip up inside while the tip of his thumb nestles against your clit. You’re very warm, nice and hot and soft against his fingertips and a pleasurable hum he gives in response to the feeling.

“Ya know, I know why ya started ridin’ with me,” he says as you squirm. “I could see it in your eyes the second I pulled in to pick ya up that first time: ya like the way I look on my bike. Don’t ya?”

Your silence is met with a heavy jab with the pad of his thumb to that sensitive little button, holding it down until you are forced to answer as he thrusts his fingers inside you up to the knuckle. Your body takes them in perfectly, gripping tight around the digits as you suck him in.

“Yes,” you say in a whine and buck as his stocky fingers give you a nice starting stretch. “You

look so f-fucking hot on this thing that sometimes I d-don’t know what to do with myself. That’s w-why I n-need…”

“What do ya need, sweetheart?” he groans as he curls his rough fingers up against your G-spot as his thumb begins to stroke concise circles upon your clit. “Use your words.”

You swallow hard while breathing heavily out of your nose as you clamp your lips shut to stop from audibly crying out in ecstasy at that first contact he makes. “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds as he pins his thumb down hard again. “Let me fuckin’ hear ya. Ain’t no one here ‘cept us.”

A desperate moan escapes your lips and echoes through the empty space as you let it all out. “I need you to f-fuck me on y-your b-bike,” you say as you vibrate under his skilled touch. “B-been daydreaming about it for a while. Didn’t know if you’d want to, but I’m desperate.”

Using a flick of his wrist, he begins to snap his fingers up into you faster and faster, those fingers vigorously working your cunt until your juices are starting to dribble down to collect on his palm and the sound of wet slaps reverberate off the concrete.

“All ya had ta fuckin’ do was ask,” he says. “Ya know I’d do anythin’ for ya, luv; my pretty girl always gets what she wants.”

You look so beautiful sprawled over his bike like this, disheveled skirt shoved up to your ribs, his hand plunged into the front of your panties so that they are stretched tight around your hips ready to rip, back arching as he again strikes right at the exact point of pleasure, tiny beads of sweat sparkling over the exposed parts of your flesh as you burn for him in the warm night air. It’s an image he’s gonna have committed to memory; every time he rides now he will remember the gorgeous mess he made of you.

If he thought he liked his bike before, it is nothing compared to how he will feel after fucking you on it.

Minute after minute each stroke draws you near that razor’s edge and threatens to violently throw you off. Your walls are fluttering around his fingers as they swell and become engorged the closer you get. Simon knows that it won’t be long now and his pulse races to feel it, that moment you come. But not like this, oh no.

He has still been chomping at the bit to relieve the pressure throbbing between his legs and now that he is sure you are ready for it, he isn’t going to waste time. You’re still in public after all, he doesn’t need this to end before you’ve both gotten off. Amidst your whimpered protests to keep going, that you are almost there, he pulls his fingers out of you with a squelch, your lubrication dripping along his fingers and glistening in the harsh lighting inside the garage.

You lean your head up as Simon pulls his fingers apart to watch the sticky fluid string between them before he brings them to his mouth and rams them into his lips to lick them clean, taking care of the mess he’s created from his touch. Just a taste to sait him, as if his face isn’t going to be plastered between those thighs later as he replays the memory of what happened here.

The sight of him sucking the lubrication off his fingers has you gasping for air. How can someone look so perfect doing something so filthy? You need him, bad. “Please,” you beg with a needy whine in your voice, “I want you inside me.”

Those words are like striking a match near a gas leak; suddenly he is scrambling to move as fast as possible. Feverish hands are clawing at clothing at breakneck speeds as his flesh begs to connect with yours and complete this union. “Ya can shoot me dead if I ever say no to that,” he growls as he moves.

Time is of the essence and so he quickly rips the soaked crotch of your panties to the side, securing them against your thigh and out of his way as his free hand ruthlessly yanks at the button on his pants to get it undone before he wrenches down the zipper and releases his cock that is throbbing and aching with his rapid heartbeat.

“Gotta make this quick, yeah?” he groans as the caress from his hand over the tip is almost too sensitive to handle. He’s falling fast. “Don’t want no one seein’ ya like this ‘cept me.”

Leaning down, he places a brief, heated kiss with his warm lips to the exposed skin near your belly button before he has you sitting up so that he can get at those lips he yearns to feel against him as he enters you. The threads of your panties are beginning to snap as he holds the fabric out of his way so he can move his hips in as he aligns the head of his cock with that dripping, aching hole.

Eyes closed and acting off of pure impulse and adrenaline alone, he mutters a rushed “Breathe” into your open mouth as a warning while his fingertips dig into the meat of your hips. The tip prods the opening before it pushes through and slides up inside, the rest following behind in one steady, fluid motion until he reaches the base and there is no more to shove inside you.

Simon shudders at the overwhelming euphoria hitting him all at once and now he’s burning from the inside out, his bulky chest taut with each heavy breath that he releases between kisses as the feeling of you wrapped tightly around his phallus drowns out everything else that surrounds him.

You throw your head back, breaking the kiss to cry out as you are filled to the brim, being stretched to capacity with all he has to give. His hand grabs at the back of your head so that his lips can shoot back to yours as a tether to help you calm until your body can be allowed a little time to adjust; he’s not exactly small by any means of the word.

It’s a few seconds before he releases your mouth as he starts to thrust, trying to go slow at first even though he is eager for more. Hips rolling at a steady pace now he pulls back to watch himself pump in and out of you. “Look,” he says in a breathless growl as the hand on the back of your head directs your eyeline down in between your bodies. “This what ya been fuckin’ fantasizin’ ‘bout? I think it looks even prettier on my bike.”

The way his swollen, veiny cock disappears as it slides up into you is mesmerizing. You can feel it but still seeing it has you questioning…where does it all fit?

He keeps you close as he picks up the pace until the sound of slapping skin against skin fills the silent space. Panting into your face with mouth open, chest heaving up and down with laborious breaths, Simon puts more into his thrusts so that even the bike itself begins to rock with you from the force. The longer he goes the more feral he gets, relinquishing any hold he had on his sanity for as long as he gets to have his body stay fitting so nicely into your cunt.

It’s building, the warmth in the pit of your stomach is gathering steadily as the epinephrine releases all those euphoric chemicals into your bloodstream. The risky nature of your endeavor, the stimulation he’s already produced with his fingers, the fulfilling of your fantasy, it all works together to fuel your passion and his strong thrusts have you ready to spill over the edge at any second.

Simon keeps his pace even as he is now struggling to keep it together. The excitement has gotten to him too so that if he lets himself lose control he is going to come and he can’t have that, not until you have. With each passing second, each pound of that deadly appendage inside you gets more and more desperate, until he finally hears those sweet, sweet words that make his heart skip a beat.

“Don’t stop, baby,” you beg, your voice cracking with desperation as you try to keep your volume at a reasonable level while he slams into you again. “So c-close…”

“Come for me, baby, that’s it,” he coaxes desperately through gritted teeth as he strains to hold on a little longer. Just a little bit more and you’ll finish and he can let go.

That’s when an idea is thrust into his brain and he knows what he needs to do to bring this full fucking circle for the both of you; complete the fantasy and give you even more to dream about for later. Simon moves over top of you to force you back until you find yourself against the fuel tank again.

Reaching above your head, he cranks the key and restarts the engine. The motorcycle roars to life, filling the garage with its sound, and begins to vibrate until it is pulsating through his body as he thrusts into you harder and harder. It’s like having your own living dildo that only intensifies the stimulation the longer he plunges into your dripping hole; a few more seconds of this and you will be coming on his cock.

And then he revvs the engine…

The stimulation is too much and suddenly you are forcibly thrown over that precipice as you come with such force, like a hot flash of white light, that your thighs clamp down around his hips as your head falls back. You cry out in choking gasps as your orgasm tears through you; so strong that you are shaking. Your walls are fluttering sporadically around his cock as your hips buck against him unrelentingly and he can’t hold back any longer.

“Where do ya want me?” he pleads as his fingertips claw at your hips, stabbing harshly into the muscle as he holds on for you to answer; he is about to blow.

“In me, in me,” you whine as you clamp your legs down hard to keep him in. What else were you on birth control for other than this?

He jerks violently as your pussy continues to flutter around him, making his limbs numb from the pleasure, and with a loud groan that is akin to the bellow of a wild beast, the pressure building at the base of his spine finally reaching its peak and he falls over the edge as he lets it go. His hips never stop, slamming into you as the thick, warm fluid coats the inside of your pussy.

“Fuckin’ hell, luv,” he repeats as he shuts off the engine while he milks himself dry, his thrusts slowing down after a few seconds until they stop all together and he stays with his cock still buried inside you to let your body finish off the rest.

An unknown amount of time passes as your unsteady breathing slowly returns to a more tolerable rhythm, all the while Simon just sits there admiring the products of his labor: the beautiful flush in your cheeks and the contented, glazed look in your eyes, until he can find his voice again once his heartbeat has settled.

“Ya know, I’ve gotten plenty a compliments about my bike, but I gotta say that you’re the prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever rode, sweetheart,” he says as he pulls you in by the back of your head to press another breathless kiss onto your lips.

It is torture having to pull out of you, but even he isn’t delusional enough anymore to think that you can just stay like this for much longer. You’ll have to go soon and he needs to help you to redress as your legs are shaking uncontrollably. There’s no way in hell someone hasn’t heard the noise you’d been making.

“Was it everythin’ ya hoped?” he asks with a contented smile as he carefully moves you off the bike to your feet so that he can readjust your panties and pull down your skirt back around your hips.

You match his expression through the hazy afterglow of your ecstasy as he finishes you up and gets himself situated. A pretty sizable wet stain darkens the middle of his jeans, but he doesn’t pay it any mind; a risk of a good fucking time, that’s all.

“Better,” you murmur, satisfied.

Bringing his hand up he cups it against your cheek a second before he combs his fingers through your hair until he reaches the back of your head where he holds them wrapped in the strands. There’s one final thing he has to do before you get going and that is to give you one last kiss as praise for doing so well for him. With how strung out you still are from your orgasm, the gentleness of it makes your knees weak.

“Now how ‘bout we get back so we can go for round two?” he smirks against your mouth as he pulls away. “We can pretend I’m your bike and ya can show me how well I taught ya to ride.”

He gets you situated on the back of the bike, helmets and all, and restarts the engine. It bursts to life and that familiar vibration makes you squeeze your thighs together all over again. Simon smirks to himself before he turns to you with the visor still pulled up. He opens yours and leans in. “Keep your thighs tight. I want ya ta keep all that inside til we get back. I got plans to watch it leak out; I think I’ve earned it.”

With a mischievous chuckle, he closes your visor and his and takes off back out of the garage and into the cool night air. Good thing it isn’t far back to the house from here…if Simon doesn’t plan to take a detour first.

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audisive · 1 month

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♪ SAD GIRL. pretty when you cry alternative

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: another bad day calls for another solution. simon knows best, after all.

tags: smut, mentions of crying, comfort, self-indulgent, dumbification ??, dirty talk, a sprinkle of breeding, unedited filth

You're not entirely sure how you got here.

You know why; you'd been stressing your precious head off for the whole week. These past few days seem to be worse than the past ones that had you crying your eyes out in Simon's arms. University has taken its toll on you, and your work is anything but helpful. You don't even have time to cry now! At some point, you barely even had time to spend with your beloved boyfriend, so he took matters into his own capable hands.

Still, you don't know how. You try to remember, but it's hard to think when Simon's even harder dick is stretching out your – in his words – pretty little cunt once more. It's no use trying to work your brain, he claims, not when your shoulders are slumped, your head is leaning on him, and he's rubbing his thick cock against the walls of your pussy just right.

Really, you tried to deal with your stress in a more appropriate way, but you knew it was futile. You admitted defeat when you felt his hands slip from your waist to your hips, when his lips found your neck, when his cold fingers played with your clit and when he'd eased you down on his cock with praises and whispers.

It's just not your fault that he knows the right buttons to push, and he seems to love turning your brain off. What's going on in that brain 'f yours, lovie? C'mon, 'nough of that. Leave it all t'me. If he had it his way, he'd have you drop out of that awful university you always complain about. Please let him provide for you.

"Y'don' even have t' do anything, baby," he grunts in your ear lowly, hot breath hitting your skin. So you don't. You pant against him like a pathetic thing, but you're so far gone in the pleasure that you just can't bring yourself to be a little shy about your state of mind, or rather, the lack of it.

"Such a good fuckin'–" he moans out loud when you clench around him a little too hard without warning, "girl. That's m'girl, tha's it."

You moan his name back, the only thing you can think of. Whining when his thrusts become rougher and harder, he coos, "I know, I know. Almost there, baby, I got'cha."

His pants aren't even all the way down. Shameless bastard! He opted to slide them down his muscular thighs to let the noticeable bulge slip out of its enclosure. His hands have long since shoved themselves under your clothes, not bothering to take them off either. It makes you feel icky, desperate, and utterly pathetic, but the way his cold skin freezes the surface of your bare hips while he moves you up and down on his leaky cock is enough to take your mind off of it.

You're a bit too loud for your own liking, and Simon's dirty talk isn't helping. He laces the lewd sounds of your bedroom with his own groans and grunts that your neighbors are sure to hear and complain about. And when he finds that spot of yours, he pounds you into the mattress like your lives depend on it. You'll just have to ignore the weird looks and glares they give you when you step out of your house.

Oh, but what can you do? You're at his mercy; all you can bring yourself to do is whine and moan for him, but don't worry, he'll take it as a reward for taking such good care of his pretty baby. He's hell-bent on finding ways to comfort you. If he can't fix you with sweet pecks and warm cuddles, he'll fix you up real good with sloppy kisses and his leaky cock. :3

You'll be a good girl and not complain when he cums in you, right?

divider by @cafekitsune !

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halfmoth-halfman · 1 year

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the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

part two. part three. part four.

The first time is purely by accident.

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise.

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork.

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed.

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?”

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly.

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.”

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes.

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary.

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back.

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway.

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod.

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man.

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office.

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened.

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard.

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others.

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after.

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep.

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church.

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry.

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated.

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice.

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church.”

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade.

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back.

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out.

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife.

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm.

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you.

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.”

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg.

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow.

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands.

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug.

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from.

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain.

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself.

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever.

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

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multific · 2 months

Text

Taskforce 141 When You Use Your Safe Word - Preferences

Warnings: SMUT, Minors DO NOT interact

It was all beginning to be a little too much.

You knew you should stop him, but you didn't want to disappoint him. You wanted to last as long as he needed you to, you were his good girl after all.

As he said many many times.

But he also said to stop him if it gets too much, he just how much he can get lost in your pussy and how rough he can get.

So, you agreed on a simple safe word, "Red".

It was for you to use at any given moment. No questions asked he would stop immediately.

You never imagined using it, but as he was mercilessly pounding into you, it became all too much.

You wanted it to end, you needed it to end.

"Red! Please! RED!" you said when you finally caught your breath...

John Price

He stops immediately.

Pulling out as he turns you around, checking your face.

"Sweetgirl, are you okay? Talk to me."

"Too much." is all you could muster. And John immediately felt guilt running down his spine.

He knew the day would come when he went too far. When he would overstimulate you to the point of no return.

"Okay, let's get you into the bath, eh? A nice warm bath." he said as he ran to the bathroom and ran you a nice bath, he then ran back and got you.

Soon, he was sitting next to you on the floor, one of his arms inside the bath, in the water, making sure the temperature was perfect.

"I'm so sorry, Darling. I should have known. You started to move away from me, but I just kept going..."

"It is not your fault John, I should have stopped sooner."

"I should have known."

"It is not your fault." you moved your hand and placed it on his cheek, he turned and kissed your palm. "Make it up to me by cuddling me."

"I will never let you go. I'm truly sorry."

"This is why I have a safe word, John."

"And you were a good girl and used it." he placed a kiss on your head, and he would make sure to cuddle you until the next morning and beyond.

Simon Riley

He would be ashamed but it would take him a second to realize what you just said, but when he does, he moves away from you immediately.

His hands would be shaking as he watched you sit up against the headboard.

"I'm so sorry." he would turn to leave, but you stopped him.

"Simon," your sweet sweet voice. So kind and innocent, he would turn to look at you. "Come back please, I'm cold." how could he ever say no to that?

He grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt, handing it to you as he put on the pants.

He moved close to you, leaning against the headboard, holding you, running his hand up and down your back.

"I'm too sore, it's why I made you stop, I think I'm just too tired."

"I'm glad you spoke up and said something." you moved and kissed his cheek.

"I love you, Simon." you tried your best to reassure him, letting him know you were okay.

"I love you too."

Kyle Garrick

In one movement he stopped and looked at you, your back was to him but he heard you clear as day.

"It's too much, Kyle, please."

"I'm sorry, does it hurt?" he watched as you nodded and he moved back, turning you around and sitting you up in bed. "How about a shower?"

You nodded again as you slowly calmed down and your breathing evened out.

Kyle watched you closely, making sure you were okay, he even washed you up.

He then carried you to bed, laying you down.

"I'm so sorry."

"It is all good. I'm glad you stopped."

"Of course, I did! It is why I came up with a safe word for you. I'm glad you used it when it became too much." you smiled at him as he leaned down and kissed your lips. "Does it still hurt?"

"I'm more sore than hurt now." you said and he held you close. "It really is okay, Kyle."

He knew it was, and he knew it will be, he was just glad he had the presence to stop when he did.

Johnny MacTavish

It took him a moment to realize what you just said.

"Red?" he asked with a confused tone. "Shit." he moved away from you, but still stayed close. "What is it?" he asked and if you wouldn't be so out of it, you would have realized the worry in his voice.

"It hurts, too much." you managed to say.

"How can I help?" he asked, watching your face closely.

"Just hold me, let me sleep."

"Sleep, okay got it."

He pulled you close, turning the lights off as he soon heard your soft snores.

He felt so guilty for hurting you, but he was proud you spoke up.

He spent hours in the dark, thinking and overthinking.

He thought he should have noticed, that he should have realized, but he could recall that he was too focused on the feeling, he got lost in it, and he wouldn't have seen the discomfort because he had his head in the crook of your neck.

But one thing was sure, after this, Johnny would pay extra attention to keep his control and his cool and make sure you are comfortable and you enjoy sex as much as he does.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 1 year

Note

a 141 x reader where they realize they did hurt you after 'that thing'?

Ahhh yes I can do this! Thanks for the request!!

I'm getting over a bit of writers block. I hope these are okay!!!

141 + König × Reader Where They Hurt You During Sex

Warnings: mentions of sex, pain, mentions of discomfort, crying and swearing. -ends in fluff

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon had a tough week. He had so much bent up aggression and stress that he was desperate to release. He found you in the shower, and felt his cock hardening in his pants. He was quick to discard his clothes and join you, and not long after, he was taking you from behind as the warm water beat down on his back.

Simon was pounding into you, setting a brutal pace you weren't used to with him. He was never particularly gentle during sex, but he was never aggressive toward you.

Tears sprung in the corners of your eyes, as each time his cock slammed back into you, it sent waves of pain throughout your body. You let out a small wail, and Simon had mistaken it for a sound of pleasure. "That's it, baby."

His grip on your hips tightened, and you let out a scream as the pain began to be unbearable. You choked out a small sob. "Simon! Stop!"

Simon immediately paused his movements, his cock ripping out of you. "Baby? Are you okay?"

You let out a small sob as the pain slightly lessened, but your insides still ached deeply, and the bruises on your hips began to form angrily. You didn't say a word as you just shook your head.

Simon's heart shattered as he quickly turned off the water and ran out of the shower to get a towel.

He came back quickly and wrapped it around you, helping you out of the shower. He pulled you close to him. His grip was tight around you. "I'm so sorry."

You leaned into his chest as you regained your breath and listened to his rapidly beating heart. "It's okay, Si."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have gone that hard. I took my stress out on you, and I'm sorry." He rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your wet hair.

You pulled away and looked up at him with a small smile. "Simon. It's alright, I promise."

Simon picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently. You gave a playful protest, pushing at his shoulders. "I'm all wet, I'll get the sheets soaked!"

"I'll throw some fresh ones on later. Just let me hold you for a while." He murmured as he moved to lay behind you, pulling you into him. "I promise I won't ever hurt you again."

Johnny MacTavish-

Johnny had wanted to try a new sex position tonight, one he'd stumbled upon in his "research" when he was on missions.

He was on top of you and placed both of your legs on his shoulders as he began to thrust into you. The new position allowed him to go deeper than he'd ever been before, causing quite a bit of discomfort for you. Your legs began to burn from the stretch, and his cock was at angles that had your insides screaming. You let out a strangled cry, pushing on Johnny's chest slightly, and he stopped what he was doing immediately. "Babe?"

He pulled out of you and laid next to you, pulling you into him. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry."

You sniffled slightly as the pain began to fade, and shoved your head into Johnny's chest. "It's okay."

He enclosed his arms around you and peppered your forehead with kisses. "I'm so sorry, I should've noticed you were in pain."

"I didn't say anything. It's not your fault." You said as you began to thread your fingers through the hair on his chest.

He nodded slowly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "Let me order us takeout, I won't have you cooking for us tonight."

"Johnny, it's really okay. You don't need to, buy." You started before Johnny pressed another kiss to your lips.

"Babe, it's the least I can do. We can gorge ourselves on crappy food while watching that horrible rom com you love so much." He gave a cheeky smile before sliding off the bed to grab his phone.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve you Johnny. I love you."

"I love you too, babe. More than you know. Now, be a good pet, and let me make it up to you." He chuckled before dialing your nearest pizza shop.

John Price-

John had you bent over your ass firmly in the air as he forced himself into you from behind. He was eager tonight. It had been a while since the two of you were together, and he hadn't prepped you as well as he should've.

His cock was stretching you uncomfortably, and each time he trusted into you, there was a horrible stinging from your hole.

"J-John." You squeaked, your voice coming out hoarse.

John took it as a sign to keep going, and you let out a loud screech as he picked up his pace. Unable to get any words out, your hand flailed wildly behind you, and John immediately stopped. "Love?"

You let out a sob as he pulled himself out of you, the relief being immediate for you. Your breathing slowed as you regained your senses.

John was quiet, his eyes watching your every move. He felt horrible, his own needs had overshadowed yours, and now you were hurt because of it.

You laid down on the bed and brought your knees to your chest. "C'mere, John."

He shook himself of his self-loathing thoughts and pulled you into his arms, settling himself behind you. "I'm so sorry, baby. I was blinded by my own needs. I didn't think to check on you. Let me make it up to you."

"It's alright, hun." You said softly, hugging onto your husband's arms. "Just hold me and I'll be alright."

John stayed with you like that for hours, rubbing at your flesh softly and peppering kisses to your shoulder. He constantly whispered his apologies, and soft "I love you's" until you both fell asleep cuddled together.

The next morning, you awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon, John making it very clear he wanted to do what he could to make it up to you.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

Kyle barely made it through the door before he'd jumped your bones. He'd been away for a week for some training and was beyond desperate for you.

He'd ripped off your clothing and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his midsection. His kiss was bruising, and needy, a clash of teeth and tongue as he singlehandedly pulled down his pants, freeing his cock.

He'd shoved into you with fervor, pounding up into you, effectively fucking you up into the wall. You cried out as your legs tightened around his waist, egging him on.

He walked toward the couch and laid the two of you down rather harshly, and the back of your head smacked off the wooden arm of the couch. Your hand flew to your head and loud out a small squeal. "Ow!"

"Fuck! Kid, I'm so sorry." Kyle pulled away and crouched down to you to inspect your head. His heart sank as he felt a small bump forming already. "I was going too fast, I should've slowed down."

You looked at him for a moment before erupting in a fit of laughter. Kyle sat confused, watching as your body wracked from your giggles. "Y/N?"

"It's fine! It's fine." You managed to get out through your giggles. "Phew, never had that one happen before."

As you clearly didn't seem to be bothered, Kyle allowed himself to chuckle as well. "Are you sure you're okay? I can go get an ice pack."

"I'm fine, promise. I'd be better if you finished what you started." You threw him an overly dramatic wink and beckoned him closer to you.

And who was Kyle to say no? Not that he didn't insist on icing your head later. (He forced you to sit still for nearly 20 minutes as he iced your head, and pressed a half dozen kisses to your lips as an apology)

König-

You woke up with a wince as you rolled over in bed, your sides aching. You sat up in bed, waking König up next to you. "Go back to sleep, baby. Just going to take a shower."

You peeled your shirt off your body, revealing a slew of bruises lining your hips in the shapes of fingerprints. You hissed slightly as the movement caused your bruises to ache.

This was not missed by König, however, who was watching on from the bed in horror. Was he truly that rough with you?

"M-maus." His voice came out shaky as you turned to him. "I hurt you."

Your heart broke at the sight of him. It was clear he was on the verge of tears, as his bottom lip was quivering slightly. "It's okay, Kö. It looks worse than it is."

"Please, don't lie to me." He begged, approaching you slowly. "I hurt you."

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. It truly did look worse than it was, and you wouldn't lie, and say that König wasn't rougher than usual last night.

He got to his knees in front of you and inspected the bruises lining your abdomen. He placed gentle kisses on each bruise before his eyes landed on yours. "Please forgive me, I didn't know I was hurting you."

"König, love, it's truly okay. I'm okay." You gave him a warm smile, but he shook his head. He walked past you and made his way to the bathroom. You could hear the rub running before you heard him call your name.

You walked into the bathroom to find him drawing you a bubble bath. He turned to you with a sad smile. "Water should be warm, climb on in."

He helped you into the water, before crouching down beside you as he watched you settle in the water.

"König, come in. It's alright, I'm not mad at you at all." You gestured to the tub with a warm smile. You knew he was beating himself up.

"I'm mad at myself, Maus." He looked down at his hands in shame. "I promised never to hurt you."

"König, get in here right now before I make you." You chuckled, trying to ease the mood. "Need my giant boyfriend to be a headrest for me."

He blinked a few times before looking up at you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Of course."

He was quick to discard his clothes and climbed into the tub behind you, pulling your frame into him gently. "Ich liebe dich so sehr, Engel." (I love you do much, angel)

König spent the rest of the day attached to your hip. He'd insisted on making you a cup of coffee and toast and even went as far as pulling out your chair for you to sit down. He made certain he'd make it up to you, one way or another.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Ahh not one of my better ones, but I hope you enjoy!🫣🩷

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

Note

Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 month

Text

Plan: Simon Ghost Riley x f!wintersoldier!reader

"This has to fabricated."

"It's not-"

"What the fuck is going on?"

"This can't be fucking real, Kate. There's no way."

The room had erupted with anger soon after the perpetrator was revealed to be you. After the initial shock came the denial, the anger that every single one of them felt because of the disturbing information that still displayed on the projector.

No one could believe it. No one wanted to.

"It's someone who looks like her." Price declared as he refused to look at the projector. "She's MIA."

"You really believe that, Cap?" Gaz scoffed and though he seemed like he was trying to keep his cool it was easy to see on his face he was just as distressed as everyone else.

Ghost hadn't said a word since his eyes landed on you. He was stuck frozen in his spot, his hands curled into fists that shook slightly as he burned holes into the screen staring at your image.

It was you. He knew the moment Laswell zoomed in on you. He may have avoided looking at any pictures of you he came across but he could never quite forget your eyes, not when he had spent so many times staring at them when you'd sit by his side or when you were across the room from him.

No matter how hard he tried to forget about you, to selfishly convince himself that you were dead so he didn't have to deal with any of the horrible emotions that still wounded him to this day, you were always in the back of his mind. He could truly never forget you.

But even with the shitty quality of the CCTV he could tell that something was different with you. You stood differently, more rigid than he had ever known you to be. From what he could see of your face, you looked hardened and angry, completely different from the last time he had saw you.

But there was no denying it. You were the one who stole the USB.

"It's her." He managed to say through a clenched jaw.

Ghost felt bile in his throat. He could hardly keep his thoughts straight with the storm of emotions that raged inside him. It was like his entire world was crashing down around him and he naively wished this was some horrible nightmare but it was real, all of it was.

"I cannae believe this." Soap mumbled. "She wouldn't...turn on us would she?"

The room went silent again.

You wouldn't. Ghost knew you wouldn't do anything to harm them or betray them, not with how close you were with them before you disappeared. You were loyal, almost to a fault and to even suggest that you would do something to betray the 141 made his blood boil and yet...you had stolen intel from them. Very valuable intel that could end lives.

You were working with some group, a bad group he knew that much, that was in direct opposition with the 141.

"It doesn't matter if she would or not." Laswell tried to keep a level voice but hidden in her eyes was pain and conflict as well. "She stole the intel and we need to get it back."

None of them missed the way she avoided speaking about what they needed to do to you. It seemed like none of them could fully believe that you betrayed them, that you would work against everything that you stood for.

Ghost denied it. You wouldn't do this willingly. You had to have been blackmailed or threatened. That was the only reason he could justify it.

A pit formed in his stomach and his throated tightened at the thought of you with this group, what that could really mean, but he ignored it. He turned to Price and gave him a firm stare, one that he hoped would get his point across.

"When we get the intel back, we're getting her back too." He said it like there was no debate because there wasn't.

Ghost was bringing you back whether Price or Laswell allowed it or not.

Luckily Price nodded and he spared one last glance at you before he looked at Laswell.

"We need to find out who they are." He said and she gave him a look.

She hesitated before she nodded. There was uncertainty in her eyes but she closed her laptop and looked to them all.

"Get into contact with Nik. I'll ask my contacts if they know anything."

When she left the room fell silent. There was nothing any of them could say to each other that would make the situation better, nothing that would help them believe that this wasn;t real.

You were alive. You had reappeared.

And you were against them.

the tag list is closed!

A/n: i hope this makes sense I struggled a little bit. we'll get into the meat of it later on

Tags: @bucky-lents @theweirdgeninistuff @igotchuuknj @rafaelacallinybbay @yyiikes @paintlavillered @tacticalanklebiter3000

#wintersoldier!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2

671 notes · View notes

kjhbsies · 2 months

Text

Romantic Roulette

HELP PALESTINE • donation links • ways to help • why you should not buy/support TLOU2 remaster

Football Player!Ellie x Classy fem!reader

Synopsis: Ellie, the charismatic star and team captain of the school's football team, finds herself entangled in a daring bet with her teammates. When challenged to win the affection of someone who is deemed to be "out of her league", - you, the one who everyone thinks is straight and seemingly Ellie's complete opposite - Ellie takes the wager with a huge confidence.

As Ellie made her way to pursue you, she soon realized that breaking your walls is no easy task. Unexpectedly, the more Ellie gets to know you, the more she finds your genuine charm and personality. Amid the game, Ellie discovers that her heart is no longer in it for the bet but for a chance at something real.

wordcount: 6, 473 Part II : PART III: PART IV

based on this request!

Romantic Roulette

Ellie Willams, one of the school’s most famous girls. Not only because she’s the football captain and has been distinguished as the best player in the nationals game, but because she has the looks that make every single girl drop down on their knees and worship her.

It’s good, really. She loved the fame, the attention, and the girls that came with it. You can always see Ellie in different clubs, partying her ass out, not caring about the school tomorrow. She was always the center of attention in there, and you could spot her, always in the middle, with a ring of girls encircling her, wanting to even get a chance to just touch her hair or even her tattooed arm which everyone adores.

Ellie always finds herself with different girls in her bed every single night. But she liked to think that it wasn’t her fault when they started catching feelings for her. Because, hey, she just wanted to have a good time, and she doesn’t really fully believe in some bullshit everyone calls love. She saw it as a waste of time, and thus she doesn’t even bother to commit to a relationship.

Every girl flocked around her feet, wanting even to get a taste of her body, and Ellie wasn’t a saint to decline them. They wanted to please her, and who was she not to agree to that? She doesn’t even bother asking for their name because she knows that she will just forget about it by the time they are in bed. Ellie always has someone who she calls whenever she felt horny, and they would oblige immediately no matter what day or hour is it. And that’s one of the many perks that she loved about being herself.

The locker room was loud as hell after their practice. Everyone was buzzed and energetic amidst the hot weather. Different conversations were emerging as the players were catching up with each other.

Ellie walked out of the shower and everyone’s attention was already with her. Wearing her sports bra and grey pajamas, Ellie laughed as she heard someone talking about a funny incident last night. She sat down in one of the chairs inside while drying her auburn hair with a towel.

“Fuck it, man. You just swooped in and got to bed Atasha that fast?” Riley asked.

Ellie laughed loudly. “Sorry, dude, she’s practically begging for me all night while we’re at the club. It’s pathetic.”

“Damn, I was talking to her all night and she just immediately stood up when she saw you.” Riley shook her head, feigning her sadness.

“Sorry, dude. You should’ve seen her bouncing at my cock last night. She moans like a fucking chicken.” Ellie stood up, picked up her hoodie, and immediately wore it. Everyone hollered at her joke. Riley playfully smacked her in her arms. Ellie looked at her watch and groaned. “Ah, I still fucking have a history class.”

“Man, be thankful that Mrs. Garcia was your professor. Her tits are spilling out every time she bends over to pick up something in her bag.” Vanessa rolled her eyes before playfully moaning.

Ellie laughed again. “Sorry, dude, I was too busy looking at my seatmate.”

One of her teammates, Alex, went near them, engaging herself in the conversation after she was done showering. “Who?” She asked, drying her arms with a towel.

“You probably don’t know her but her name’s y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” Ellie answered before gathering her messenger bag and her bottled water. Honestly, Ellie doesn’t even know how she remembered your name. She doesn’t even talk to you in or outside the class that much. She can probably count on her two hands how many interactions you two had for the semester. There’s just something about you that Ellie can’t wrap her fingers. She can’t explain how much you attracted her.

The whole team fell silent and stole glances with each other before bursting out in laughter. This made Ellie look at them with a curious stare. Both of her brows rose, as she watched them holler, completely clueless.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie crinkled her nose.

“Well, first off, we know her. She’s like everyone’s dream girl, dude. But you can’t take her out. You’re not her type.” Alex smirked.

Ellie looked at her with an offended stare. “What do you mean I’m not her type? I’m everyone’s type.”

“Apparently, not for her. You don’t even know if she’s gay.” Alex argued.

“Everyone’s gay for me.”

“Then try flirting with her, I’m telling you it won’t work. She’s way out of your reach.”

“Dude,” Ellie chuckled, “No one is out of my reach. Wanna bet?” Ellie smirked, pulling up her wallet and raising it before Alex’s face. Everyone said a loud and long ‘ooh’ in unison.

Alex smiled back at her, “Ten dollars?”

“Make it twenty if I kissed her.”

“Fifty… if you can take her to the bed. But if you can’t, then owe me those fifty dollars.”

Ellie laughed. “You think I can’t do that?” She traced the inside of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “Fine. I’m in.” Ellie accepted the challenge.

To start, Ellie doesn’t know much about you. Only that you loved listening to Mrs. Garcia’s boring history lessons, asking so many questions about the topic, and attentively writing down everything the professor said. This is why you’re her favorite student. And also, you loved to wear those classy vintage dresses and you’re also polite as fuck. You’re the opposite of the girls that Ellie loved hooking up with. To be honest, you’re nowhere near Ellie’s type of girl but something about you that makes her drawn to your energy like she’s a moth to the fire – you.

You’re not the type of person who would go having meaningless sex, and Ellie somewhat predicted it. Besides, her whole team was convinced that you wouldn’t budge, nor break down your defenses to Ellie. Because firstly, they believed that you’re straight.

Yeah, believed.

Because Ellie wasn’t nearly convinced that you wouldn’t throw yourself at her feet. That you wouldn’t scramble at the sight of her. That she can’t make you question your sexuality. Because Ellie was full of herself she could do that. She always does.

“So… are you free tonight?” A girl in their class asked Ellie flirtatiously while tracing the tattoo on her arm. She sat down in front of Ellie’s table, riding up her skirt to reveal more skin on her thigh. If this were a normal day, Ellie would’ve said back at her. Probably ask her to be her date for the night, and make plans where they would fuck. But since she’s on a mission, and you could go inside the room and see the two of them, then you’d probably lose all of your interest. And Ellie doesn’t want that.

“I’m not. Why don’t you just go back to your seat, Johanna?” Ellie sarcastically asked her.

The girl retreated and looked at Ellie with irritation. “My name’s Christine!” She said before angrily stomping her way to the front seat.

At the same time, you walked inside. You were holding your books in your right arm, and the other one was clutching the straps of your handbag. Your hair was in a simple style – the front pieces were tucked behind your hair neatly, revealing the gold hoops you were wearing. You were just wearing jeans and heels paired with a plain long sleeve that revealed your collarbones and curves that made Ellie’s breath hitch.

Ellie’s gaze followed yours as you were making your way beside her. Ellie took the courage to flash you a charming smile while you were sitting. She doesn’t expect you to do anything, so when you flashed back a beam, Ellie almost gasped in shock.

“Hey, darling.” You greeted and Ellie didn’t know what to do. It’s like all of her flirting skills were gone after she heard your voice. Goddamnit.

Ellie cursed herself before silently shaking her head as if to gain back her consciousness. She’s starting to look like a fucking loser. “Hi… you look pretty.” She complimented you before smirking and looking up and down your body.

“Wow,” You couldn’t help but smile shyly while gazing down. “It kinda means a lot to me since it’s from the captain of the football team.” You looked up at her, meeting her green eyes that were staring at you intently. “Though I was curious as to why you’re talking to me.” You joked.

Ellie chuckled. “You knew me?”

You shrugged. “Of course, who doesn’t?”

“Well… I thought you weren’t paying attention to me.”

You crinkled your nose. “I think it’s the other way around.”

Ellie’s tongue traced the insides of her cheek, before she leaned into her chair, still staring at you. “I just want to be friends.”

You scoffed. “Friends? Didn’t you have a lot of that?”

“Well,” Ellie leaned in front of you. She rested her elbows on her knees. “Is it bad not to want you as my friend?”

“No,” You smiled. “But it was such an odd thing. You and I were seatmates ever since and you never really noticed me. So, what’s your intentions?”

Ellie’s heart jumped. She never expected you to quip back at her. “I’m just… scared to talk to you.” She shook her head, wanting to appear convincing but it’s just a lie. Yes, Ellie does notice you every time, but she never attempts to talk to you solely because she is too busy with other girls.

“You’re afraid to talk to me?” You asked back, finding her reason ridiculous because she’s Ellie Williams. Being afraid of a girl wasn’t in her vocabulary and you knew that. “There are tons of girls who want to befriend you, Williams. You and I weren’t exactly a perfect match.” You smiled at her before you looked in front of the classroom, where Mrs. Garcia was.

Ellie was left dumbfounded.

Did you just reject her?

“It should be fucking easy,” Ellie complained to her friends while walking back and forth. They’re at Dina and Ellie’s shared boarding house after all of their classes have ended.

Dina rolled her eyes, putting on her lip gloss in her bag after she was done using it. “Well, it’s good that you knew how to get rejected for once.” She then made her way to the couch, sitting beside her boyfriend, Jesse, who was lying down sideways while eating popcorn.

“Yeah, and she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was supposed to say yes and let us be friends so I could make my advancements on her like every other girl. But no, she didn’t.” Ellie groaned.

Dina glared at her friend. “Well, first off, not every girl is the same.”

“No, Dina, I think they are.” She rolled her eyes stubbornly.

“And second, you should stop messing with her, okay? I know Y/n, and she’s a very kind girl. Playing with other’s feelings is cruel.”

Jesse nodded and hummed while putting a mouthful of popcorn in his mouth.

“And lose fifty dollars to Alex and hurt my pride? No way.” Ellie scoffed.

“What if she found that it was all a stupid bet?”

“She won’t, Dina.”

“How can you be so sure?” Jesse asked with a muffled voice because of the food. Dina smacked him.

“Stop talking while your mouth is full!”

“No one will tell her, okay? She can’t find out.” Ellie answered with a determined voice.

Dina shook her head at her. “You know what? Go on, do whatever you want because you won’t even listen to me. But don’t forget that I warned you not to continue this.” Dina pointed her finger at Ellie.

“Thank you, Dina. But I think I can handle myself.” Ellie smirked at her to annoy her friend even more.

The one place that you’ll find Ellie the most is with different clubs and bars – particularly the ones that are near the university. And the last spot that you’ll meet her is in the library.

In her defense, what would she do here? She was not fond of reading books, not even the ones that she should use, and she hated the deafening silence in this huge room. Once, Ellie tried to come along with Dina and her friends in a group study and she just got numerous glares from the librarian that was telling her to keep quiet. Ellie never learned a thing, and she’s pretty sure that she just made a new enemy that day. So, Ellie swore not to go in here.

But today was the day that she broke that promise.

Ellie strides into the huge library while holding a particularly dirty football that was fresh from the practice. She’s still in her sports attire. Her auburn hair was tied in a bun, and some strands of her hair were sticking onto her sweaty forehead and neck. She managed to change her shirt into a plain white one but her shorts were still the same.

After their football practice, Ellie never got to shower and change completely because she knew that you’d be gone on campus already. So she just drenched herself in her perfume – making sure that you can’t smell even the slightest of her sweat.

The same librarian Ellie encountered before was in charge of today. She recognized the football captain and made a face of grimace and disapproval at her looks.

“Your shoes have mud in them.” She pointed out when Ellie passed by her.

In answer, Ellie just put on her charming smile. “Oh, I didn’t even notice.” She said before briskly walking away from her.

It was not hard for Ellie to find you. It was a Tuesday afternoon and most of the students were in their respective classes so the library wasn’t packed. Besides, how could Ellie not notice you when you were walking around the room with one of your mini-dresses?

“Hey,” ElliE came up behind you. And since you were immersed in the book you were holding, you almost jumped up in shock.

“Shit, you scared me.” You said in a hushed voice.

“Woah, you can curse?” Ellie asked, amused.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, I’m not a saint.”

Ellie chuckled at your joke. “That’s shocking.”

You snorted. “Not really. So… what do you want for you to come rushing in here right after your practice?”

Ellie looked at her dirty shorts and muddy shoes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yup. You were tainting the tiles and Ms. Loren looks like she wants to jab you at your jaw.” You looked behind her, nodding in the librarian’s direction.

“Oh… so that’s what her name is.” Ellie looked at the woman and offered a smile but she just huffed in answer.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked again, and Ellie turned her attention to you.

“Actually… yes. I was struggling with History classes because I’m not good at memorizing ton shits and Mrs. Garcia’s quizzes were really really hard. And because of the upcoming intramurals, we’re always at the field to practice which is why I missed a quiz at her.”

“Last meeting?”

“Yup.”

“So that’s why you’re not there.”

Ellie nodded. “I never got to pass any of her exams, and she said that my grades would go down if I failed another quiz. So… can you tutor me?” Ellie shot you with a pleasing gaze.

You looked at her with a surprised face. “Why me?”

“You're her favorite student, and you’re always the top of the class. Please…?” Ellie gave you a puppy eyes.

You stared at her face, contemplating about everything. You were about to utter a word but there was nothing that left your mouth.

“I’ll do anything you want. Just… text me if you made up your mind.” Ellie says. She looked at the table in front of her and found a pen. She then gently took your left hand and wrote her number on it. Your heart raced at the first physical contact with her.

“I’ll be waiting for your text… or call.” Elli winked at you before jogging towards the door, leaving you dumbfounded.

After the class, you decided to meet up with your friends at one of your favorite cafes. Today is the perfect day to get a nice cup of warm coffee since it’s somewhat windy outside. And maybe, the drink can give you something to wake you up from looking at the number at your hand.

“What’s that?” Abby asked at the digits in your palm, causing you to jump at her voice. Her brow rose when she looked at you. She finished placing the drinks and food on the table, and you immediately got yours and took a sip of it.

“Whose number was that? You can’t stop looking at it ever since we got in here.” Nora pointed out.

You cleared your throat. “Ellie.”

“Williams?” Abby asked curiously. “Didn’t know you two have any contact.”

“Well, I told you all before that she is my seatmate in History class. But, I don’t know, she tried talking to me yesterday.” You shrugged, picking up a piece of the red velvet cake.

“Maybe she’s playing games with you,” Nora said.

“Come on, Ellie probably thinks she’s amazing.” Abby defended.

Nora rolled her eyes, “Abby, Ellie was a notorious playgirl. She wouldn’t talk to y/n just to be friends. And besides, I don’t think that was in her vocabulary.”

“Woah,” You chuckled. “Where does this grudge from her is coming from?” You threw your hands up in the air.

“Oh, so you don’t know how many girls have been crying and fighting each other because of her? Ellie is a heartless person who doesn’t care about someone’s feelings, and everyone is still blinded by it because of how she looks. Y/n, you should be careful because I think you’re her new target.”

“You shouldn’t scare her,” Abby said.

“I’m not. I’m just stating facts.”

You sighed, heavily while looking at your hand once again.

Nora has a point, but you still want to give Ellie the benefit of the doubt. She wouldn’t do that to you, right?

Right?

You were walking back and forth in your small room while looking at your right palm, and holding your phone on the other. You still have a lot of free time tonight since all of your school works and backlogs were done, so, you were now contemplating whether you should call Ellie or not.

I mean, you completely understood Nora’s complaints about Ellie since the rumors aren’t new about her. Sure, she’s a Casanova, but the thing is, you won’t even dare fall in love with her – let alone be one of her girls. You were just a kind student who wanted to help her classmate in a subject where you excelled. So, what’s wrong with that?

“Ugh.” You grunted while shutting your eyes tightly. You flopped down the bed before you quickly dialed the number.

“Hello?” Ellie’s raspy voice filled your room. You immediately sat down in your bed when she answered. You can hear loud music in the background, and a few people shouting and giggling. You figured out that she’s at a party. A girl asked Ellie where she was going but you couldn’t pinpoint what she answered because it was chaotic. “Who’s this?”

“It’s… Y/n. I- I’m sorry, is this a bad timing?”

“Oh. Oh! Y/n? Is it actually you?” She asked, voice rising with excitement.

“Yeah, I called to ask if you want to study tonight but clearly, you had other plans now, so let’s just do it some other time.”

Ellie managed to scramble outside the house where she was partying even though it was a real struggle. After a long day of practicing, Ellie and her teammates got invited to a house party hosted by someone she couldn’t even remember the name of. Being stressed for a whole week, Ellie wanted to have some little fun for tonight. And besides, she wants to divert her attention in the meantime, rather than looking at her phone stupidly for the rest of the day which Dina pinpointed.

Ellie immediately shook her head at what you said as if you could see her right now. “No, no, it’s fine. I was just actually hanging around there, not drinking or anything.” She lied.

“Really?” You don’t sound convinced by her answer. “Well, I’ll text you the address of my boarding house if you’d like.”

“Yes. Please. Thank you so much. I’m on my way.” Ellie said quickly before running towards her big bike. She ended the call, put her phone on her jeans, put on her helmet, and started the engine.

“Where the hell are you going?” Riley shouted from the window.

“To study!” Ellie exclaimed before driving away.

Riley and her teammates looked at each other with a frown and a clueless stare. “Studying?” They all asked themselves in unison.

Because there is no way, Ellie would’ve left a party.

And in her whole life, Ellie never even studied.

So, why is she leaving a party just to study?

After Ellie said that she was outside your room, you didn’t expect that she’d show up at your windows.

“Oh, my goodness!” You exclaimed in pure shock. “What are you doing in there?” You said before opening up the sliding windows.

Ellie threw her backpack filled with snacks on the floor before she completely entered. She managed to change her alcohol and cigarette-scented shirt into a decent one just to make herself presentable to you.

“Your landlady says it’s past curfew so she can’t let me in, so I managed to climb through your windows.” Ellie shrugged.

“You could fall.”

“But I didn’t, so…” Ellie flashed her charming smile before scanning your room.

It is warm and cozy. It is filled with plants and different vintage collections. Ellie noticed at least five different lamps open and candles lit to give some light in your room. It is very neat, well well-decorated, and it smells really good.

“I didn’t know vinyl still existed.” Ellie pointed out the small drawer of yours filled with different types of vinyl. Ellie walked to it and saw a vintage turntable. “This still works?” She asked.

“Oh, yes, it’s not quite as popular as it was before, but it still works.” You grabbed one and put it on the player to show her. Ellie’s brows rose and her mouth formed into a small ‘o’ when the music started filling the air.

“Guns and Roses. Classic.” She said when she heard the familiar sound.

You looked at her with a smile on your face. “You know that band?”

“Yeah, Joel - uhh, my guardian, he used to play their songs every single day to the point that he even wanted to try to learn it on the guitar.” She smiled and turned to you.

“You know how to play guitar, too?”

“Oh, a little.” Ellie chuckled. “I never really had any practice, unless it’s in a summer break.”

“That’s nice.” You nodded thoughtfully.

“You really like collecting such antique things, huh?” Ellie picked up a small bunny ceramic.

“It’s like a small hobby I’d like to do from time to time. It’s really fun going to different antique or thrift stores trying to find something you’d like. And besides, I really like older things because of their intricate designs and very pretty artworks.” You explained. “Look, all of those artworks on my wall are all thrifted, even its frames.” You pointed.

Throughout the night, you two did study. You helped Ellie with understanding all the topics that she was struggling. You were surprised with how quickly she can memorize everything, leading you down to the conclusion that Ellie is smart, she’s just lazy.

The two of you would take breaks in between as Ellie insisted because she can’t focus if they’re going to study for hours with no breaks. You obliged. Ellie then would ask you different things about your room, asking what you’d like the most in it, and you would explain and show her those things. Ellie asked you more about yourself, wanting to get some information while at it as her mind starts plotting what you love, and where she can take you out for a date.

You were talking about the things you love, and there was that spark in your eyes that Ellie couldn’t look away from. You were so immersed in telling her something, and Ellie got lost by looking at your face.

Time passed and the two of you didn’t seem to notice. It’s like the two of you are in your bubble that no one could even interrupt. Not even the storm, or the loud buzzing of Ellie’s phone because of her friends asking where she went. Tonight, it’s just you and her.

“I’m nervous about the quiz,” Ellie says as the two of you are walking through the hallways.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” You looked at her and gave a warm smile.

“I don’t know what’s with that subject, but I always fail every quiz in that class. It’s like someone has put a curse on me or something.”

“Mrs. Garcia is a great teacher, but yes, I do get that her voice is so calm which is why many students are too sleepy to pay attention to her.”

Ellie chuckled. “Yeah, the only thing that I can see in her class was her boobs whenever she bows down to get something on her bag on the floor. It’s fucking distracting.”

You laughed, harder than Ellie thought you would’ve, making her look at you with an amused smile. “Fuck yeah. I thought I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”

Ellie stared at you for a moment, she started questioning Alex in her mind saying that you are straight and making her think that there isn’t even the slightest bit in your body that is gay. Your reaction to what she said makes her think about your sexuality, Ellie wants to ask, but she doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries.

Ellie shook her head, wanting to keep her thoughts at bay. Instead, she changed the topic. “We have a football practice at 3:00 PM and I was wondering if you want to watch it…?” She looked at you with a sheepish smile.

“Were the girls watching you play weren’t enough?” You joked.

“There aren’t. Wait, you really think that I’m a playgirl?”

“Aren’t you?” You asked back with a small frown on your face. “I don’t think that you’re a playgirl, I know you are. Everyone does. I mean, my friend doesn’t even know why you’re talking to me in the first place.” You shrugged before looking away.

Ellie was staring at you really hard, wanting you to look at her but you wouldn’t, so she sighed dejectedly. She stopped in her tracks and held your arms to also make you stop.

“How can I prove my sincerity to you?”

You bit your lips as your hands gripped the strap of your bag tightly. You shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ellie. We’re not friends or anything more.”

“What if I want you to be?”

Your gaze fell on hers with a shocked look on your face. “What?”

“I want to be your friend, Y/n.”

You stared at her for a moment, weighing your feelings. You were used to people coming up to you and asking to be their friend. After all, everyone finds you nice and adorable. You loved friendly interactions, and never once have been doubting someone’s intentions. However, there is a huge factor when Ellie is the one who’s doing it — yes, Nora is right. Her lifestyle is much different than yours, and Ellie Williams’ reputation is not quite good. Everything about you two wouldn’t even intersect, and this is all new. Everything about here seems… artificial.

But then again, you took a look in her face, and gosh… how can you resist that?

So, you slowly nodded. Mumbling a small ‘fine’ under your breath is something that almost made Ellie want to jump in joy.

It’s playtime.

taglist: @liasxeatt @darkerstarsstuff @amberputh @bready101 @teawithnosugar @elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliewilliamgfooc

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader

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angelfoxx · 8 months

Note

I just know Keegan looks so god damn hot in his casual clothing, going to bed in loose grey boxers and an old band shirt that rides up his stomach when he lies down, AND GOOD GOD his happy traillll😫I feel like he’s one of those guys with really bushy happy trails, doesn’t even know how sexy you find it. He’s lying in bed, one of his big arms around your shoulders while reading an old book. Raises an eyebrow when your hand starts wandering up his thigh, fingertips dipping under the waistband of his boxers..

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ NEED SOMETHING? ❞

…in which keegan entertains your perversions.

FEATURING: keegan p russ.

WARNINGS: keegan being a sexy motherfucker. also me giving him a tatted sleeve because it’s sexy and who the hell is gonna tell me no. also me drooling over his happy trail bc HAPPY TRAILS HAPPY TRAILS LOOOOOOOORD

NOTE/S: oh my god

It’s not your fault, really. Feeling like this. It’s not your fault.

It’s his.

He’s not ignoring you. His arm, slung up on your shoulders, is just a heavy, toned reminder that he’s with you. His attention is just elsewhere.

You aren’t totally sure what book he’s reading. Probably something of Stephen King’s. Last week, it had been Christine. The week prior, It. You hadn’t bothered checking; if it was a low-stress week, he’d tell you all about it once he finished it, true book-critic style. In any case, he’s got the thing casually in his lap, spread open by a splayed hand. He’s got a simple silver band on his middle finger, gnarled and twisted like barbed wire — every now and then, he taps it, just an occasional beat of sound as if to remind you that he’s right there.

You’re ogling his hand, now. He doesn’t seem to notice.

Your eyes travel upward. He’s got a pretty sleeve of black-and-white tattoos; churning ocean waves, storm-battered whitecaps, tossing ships. He’d explained it the first time you’d seen it; something about how he found peace in the chaos of an ocean storm. Just standing in a place where there was no resistance that he could give. Surrendering to the fury of nature. Something like that. It’s…um, attractive. Yeah. You swallow and resist the sudden urge to squeeze your legs together.

The top of that sleeve — thick, billowing clouds — vanishes under the edge of his tee. Charcoal-gray, emblazoned with the title of an old rock band that you’d never really heard of prior to meeting him. He’s still wearing his dog-tag, hanging on a silver chain around his neck and rising on his chest every time he breathes.

Christ, you should stop staring.

His shirt’s ridden up on his stomach, and god, you really shouldn’t look because then you won’t be able to look away. But you do look, because what are you if not a swooning idiot for the sniper sitting beside you?

Every time he breathes, his stomach sinks in and you can see the outline of his abs. God. Fucking Christ. You can see the outline of his abs but not really the middle, because along the middle he’s proudly sporting a long line of short black curls.

You’re basically salivating.

He’s just got some loose gray boxers on, sitting dangerously low on his hips. He’s left the v-line of his hips exposed; your senses are on high alert, eyes catching on every little mole spotting his waist, every little white scar, the edge of the paw-print tattoos he has just below his stomach (it’s where Riley’s front feet go when the dog stands up on his hind legs, tail wagging and tongue lolling), and it’s such a cute little tattoo but your thoughts are anything but and—

“Don’t forget to blink.”

You flinch like you’ve been shot. Your mind goes blank, and your gaze shoots upward.

Tiny smirk caught in the corner of his mouth, Keegan looks down at you with lidded, quietly humored eyes. They seem brilliantly blue, moreso than usual — though maybe that’s just the lighting in here. His hair’s a mess; short and still damp from his earlier shower, undercut scrubbing against your arm as he turns his head, just a little, one eyebrow raised. There’s a little scar through his left one; the hair splits unevenly there. You’ve told him several times that you find it sexy.

He agrees.

“What?” Your mouth feels like it’s filled with a fat wad of cotton. You feel like your thoughts are visible in your eyes.

“Don’t play stupid.” His response is honey-smooth. “I’m not dumb.”

“I didn’t say y…you were.” You swallow. “I’m just sitting here.”

“Mm.” Keegan narrows his eyes. “Mhm.”

And then he goes back to that book.

It’s kind of ridiculous, how hard you stare at his hand holding that book open. It’s almost pathetic, actually. You’re sure he’d say the same if he knew exactly what thoughts were running through your head right now. Pinkie finger on one page, index on the other, middle and ring both resting so lightly along the inseam of the spine.

Christ.

Trying to shake yourself out of your own head, you turn yourself inwards. Keegan needs no words; his arm tightens around you, hand sliding down to your hip and tugging it over so that you’re fully facing his side, head resting against his chest and body slung down along his leg. It’s comfortable like this; it goes without saying that he’s built like a motherfucker and so his pec is a comfortable resting-place for your head. He’s warm, too, deliciously so; his body heat seeps up through his tee, prickling against your skin. He’s comfy, so comfy; on other nights, you’d fallen asleep like this, cuddled up to his side with one of his arms wrapped around you. Those nights were sweet; when time started to slow and all of your senses started to bleed together, you always heard him call your name, so quiet you wouldn’t catch it if you were awake. When you didn’t answer, he’d laugh — and then you’d hear the rustle of sheets as he stooped over and pressed a little kiss to the top of your head.

You weren’t totally sure if he knew that you knew he did that.

Tonight, though, you can’t do that. You can’t fathom it, because your hand is just itching to move. It’s just casually resting against his thigh — god, his fucking thighs, hard and thick and oh, you have to stop ogling him. You have to stop thinking about how that muscle feels, flexing so slightly under your hand as it moves up.

Moves up?

Oh.

Oops.

Keegan doesn’t say anything when your hand cups the warm spot between his legs. He lets out a short breath — it almost sounds like a laugh. There’s a curve taking shape on his lips, and his eyes glint with humor as he shifts, purposefully pushing his pelvis so slightly up into your palm.

The weight of his dick pushes between your fingers and your legs instinctively snap together. Above you, Keegan’s breath cracks into a nearly-silent laugh.

He’s onto you.

You bite your lip, risking a glance up at him as you do. He isn’t looking at you; he’s still reading, hawkish blue eyes scanning from left to right, over and over again. The hand on your hip lightly squeezes a handful of your thigh.

His hips roll so slightly up again. He’s daring you to continue.

Cocky sonofabitch. You swallow as you move your hand up, up, over the slight angular swell of his abdomen and up past the elastic of his boxers. For a moment, you rake your fingers up his abs and you shudder in response to the way his stomach flexes and his breathing oh-so-slightly breaks.

No words. Just the sound of him turning the page.

Bitch. You bite your tongue as you shift your head around. You can hear his heart thumping beneath your ear, and — god fucking dammit — it’s not beating quicker at all. It’s like you can’t disturb him. Get under his skin like he gets under yours.

You pick at the elastic of his waistband. On one hand? You’re rubbing your legs together, biting your tongue, and there’s a million and one dirty images in your head. You can practically hear Keegan’s growl in your ear: too needy to sit still, princess?

But on the other hand, he’s being mean. He’s ignoring you and all of your signs. And you kind of want to just roll over and go to sleep and maybe, just maybe, he’d been hoping for you to go further.

But you won’t. So he’ll get frustrated, and then it’ll be him slowly reaching his hand under the elastic of your waistband, fingers curving over the shape of your body and feeling for wet warmth. He’ll breathe in your ear with that stupid rasp of his and he’ll ask, voice raw, if you were really planning on hanging me out to dry like that? and you’ll say maybe I was.

Or he’ll get frustrated, but he’ll reach into his own pants. He’ll leave you alone, but you’ll wake up to the quiet sound of his muted groans and his hand stroking back and forth under the thin material of his boxers and then maybe he’ll do that thing where he tips his head back, swallows, and his eyes flutter shut and he cursed, quiet and hoarse.

Or maybe—

“Cold feet?” There he is again, short phrases and little questions. He’s not looking at you; he’s looking at his book, tilting his head as he turns the page. He raises an eyebrow to you, tongue clasped between his teeth.

“What?”

No response this time. Keegan’s eyes shift over to you; he cocks his head in your direction, and under that messy black mop of hair and those thick black lashes that you’ve always been envious of, Keegan silently asks if you’re really going to play this fucking dumb.

You’ve arrived at a stalemate. You don’t move. He doesn’t speak. You two just stare at each other, blinking back-and-forth like a tennis volley until Keegan finally sighs and looks away. His eyes return to the book.

You’re about to snap, ready to rip the godforsaken thing out of his lap, when the hand on your hip shifts. His arm lifts off of your back; it pulls around your shoulders instead, crushing you into his armpit.

His fingers clasp around your wrist, and you catch the undeniable edge of a smirk on his face before he takes your hand and pulls it into his pants.

get fucking cliffhanger’d bitches

#cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan smut #cod keegan #LORDDDD

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feralforfrank · 1 year

Text

NOTHING'S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

summary reader gets injured while looking out for the team and simon riley worries.

cw descriptive scenes of reader getting injured, cod canon violence, stab wounds & blood loss, worried!simon riley. angst!!!!! hurt with tiny bit of comfort (from simon to reader) NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER. tell me if i missed anything!

a/n is this deserving of a part two? does it feel rushed? is THIS really how i want to enter the cod mw2 fandom!?!! so many questions.

masterlist | taglist

"Ghost," you spoke his name in a hushed tone, mainly to hide from the enemy but also to hide the shake in your voice.

"I'm here, Owl. I'm coming to get ya." You could hear Ghost running, and you tried to focus on the sounds he made instead of the stinging pain on your thigh and side.

It was your fault. All of it. You were supposed to be on the roof, not on the goddamn ground. You're a sniper, for fuck's sake. But being above ground, you spotted two men making their way to where the team's getaway car was. You weren't allowing them to steal your vehicle, but if you shot at them, it would alert the others, and your position would've been compromised.

You knew how to fight. Although you never liked engaging the enemy face to face and your eyes were better used above ground, thus why you were a sniper and why they called you Owl, Ghost and Soap trained you to take down men as big as them.

The first man went down quickly, he was skinny, and you surprised him. He was gurgling on his one blood in seconds. The second guy pinned you to the wall. You took your second knife from your right thigh strap and pierced his stomach twice. He was slipping from your grasp when you felt the knife you'd used on him puncture your thigh.

You screamed. A shriek left your mouth before you could stop it. Your thigh throbbed as you landed a final blow on the side of the man's neck. You stumbled off the wall, blinking the tears and black dots away. You heard someone call your name through comms, but you didn't have time to answer.

The third man came behind you. He must've heard you scream. He circled his buff biceps around your throat and squeezed. Fight and flight kicked in. Andrenaline was pumping in your bloodstream, and, without thinking twice, you bit his bicep. Hard.

He cursed and moved away from you for a split second, and you got a chance to suck in a breath. You stumbled forward, but he caught you, spinning you around and pulling you so impossibly close.

At first, you didn't feel it. A shot rang out, and his body slumped forward, distracting you. The man was dead in your arms, and his blood had splattered on your face and continued spilling on your shoulder. Your head shot up to your station—that's where the gunshot had come from. Gaz asked you if you were okay. You tried to nod, and that's when you felt it.

Your ears started ringing. You stepped back, the man falling completely from your grasp and onto the ground. You choked on your breath. Your hand instinctively fell to your side and then rose in front of your face. You were bleeding from two places now.

Gaz called for you again, but you didn't answer. You felt dizzy, and as much as you tried blinking those black spots away, they just wouldn't go. You leaned against the wall. Ghost ordered your whereabouts, and Gaz answered him hurriedly, adding that he could see you losing consciousness. So, that's who shot from your position. Ghost confirmed that he was coming your way.

And that's how you ended up in this position.

"Please, hurry." Your cry of pain made the lieutenant's pace pick up.

Ghost always had some sort of a soft spot for you. Your kind-hearted, friendly nature and bubbly personality didn't help his growing infatuation. You were too sweet for your own good, and he swore your sarcastic comments directed mostly at Soap always managed to melt his heart.

The guys weren't oblivious—they could see how Ghost always stared at you. His hard eyes seemed to soften when looking at you. Actually, his whole posture changed when you were around. Ghost was always near you, a soft hand placed on your lower back and guiding you when you were in the dark during missions, and glances were thrown at you when you were too quiet to make sure you were doing okay.

Soap and Gaz had joked about his fascination with you, asking him why he never made a move. He'd shut them down and called them inappropriate before lowering his head to hide how flustered he felt. He thought burying those teenage sentiments at the very back of his mind would be the best. He's never been good at expressing his feelings, and for fuck's sake, he was your superior.

But as he heard your breath come out in gasps and Gaz telling him to hurry up through comms, he felt panic inside him. His steps became more urgent, and his grip on the gun tightened. He was almost there.

"Don't move. I'm coming to get you." Ghost's voice was filled with utter panic and anxiety, and he took a breath to get rid of the shake in his tone. "I'm almost there, darlin'."

Fuck.

He hadn't meant for that to slip out. He heard your breath hitch. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

He turned the corner, and there you were, slumped on the wall, holding your side with your palm and breathing heavily. He placed his gun in its holster and ran toward you. You collapsed with a groan, your forehead touching his vest.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I'm so sorry. They were—They were trying to escape with our c-car, and I couldn't let—I couldn't let them—" You gasped for breath as Ghost looked around at the dead bodies.

It was dark, but he could make out three silhouettes, definitely larger frames than yours, and they all lay dead in a puddle of their own blood.

"It's okay, it's alright, love. I'm here now. I'm not goin' anywhere." A soft whimper escaped your lips, and he felt your body give in to the fatigue caused by the blood loss.

Ghost picked you up, requesting the rest of the team to meet him at his location. The car was unlocked and untouched, and his heart swole with pride. You'd taken out three soldiers to protect the team and secure their getaway transportation.

You mumbled his name as he placed you in the backseat. He quickly got in, and pulled you in his arms again, one palm pressing on your wounded side and the other on your bleeding thigh.

Soap slipped in the driver's seat, Gaz following right behind him. "How's she doing, Lt.?" The former asked, glancing behind him once.

"She'll be fine if you move this goddamn car!" Ghost's tone was sharp, but Soap didn't take it personally.

"Where to, Ghost?" John asked.

"The safe house. Make sure no one follows us. As soon as we're in the clear, Gaz, you call Price. Tell 'im to send evac." Gaz nods curtly, followed by a yes, sir.

"Simon." You shift, snuggling closer to his body.

The frown on your face deepens. Simon looks down at you. His heart hasn't stopped its rapid beating, and worry mixed with panic is still swirling in his blood. He wants to tell John to hurry the fuck up, but he knows the soldier is going as fast as possible.

You whine in distress, your eyes blinking ever so slowly. Your ears ring, your gaze is unfocused, and your eyes are glassy with tears ready to fall.

"Shh, it's alright, love," Simon whispers. "You're goin' be okay."

"Am I dying?" You speak in hushed panic.

Simon shakes his head quickly from side to side as if your words burned him. "No, you're fine. Nothing that can't be fixed, okay? I can fix it." He's trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince you.

"Are they after us?" He shakes his head again. "So, we're safe? I'm safe?"

"Nothing's gonna hurt you. As long as I'm here, no one's hurting you again, ya hear me?" The finality in his voice is the reassurance you need to soothe you.

You feel your eyes drooping again, and the ringing in your ears finally fades out. "Thank you, Simon."

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granddaughterogg · 29 days

Text

men of Modern Warfare and how they are in relationships

Captain John Price

Self esteem: high, and damn rightly so. Heart on his sleeve. Doesn't really get the idea of being emotionally closed off. Seems like such a hassle, innit? He's got a lot to give and is not afraid to admit that he's a giver through and through. His love language is words, but also touch, and this man is insatiable. Will drown you in tenderness if you let him. You want to feel like a queen for the rest of your days together? Marry his ass.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Self esteem: Pretty high. He's impulsive as all out and a motormouth, so even if he wanted to hide his feelings from you - it's a battle already lost. He's way more sensitive that his Bro Persona might suggest and will be equal parts touched and embarrassed if you find out on your own. Showoff. Possessive to a fault. Can get quite cunty with his jokes sometimes, but will apologize for it profusely. He's so afraid to lose you. His love language is fucking your brains out. It's not like you're complaining.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He has this healthy belief in himself. Probably the most level-headed when it comes to falling in love out of the whole Task Force. Notices your affection right away and responds bringing his best game to the table - and this man can be Charming! Can get quite harsh when agitated though. Get prepared to be brought to tears if you two fight over something important. He'll notice that you're hurting, but firmly believes that it's not a reason to avoid discussion. His love language is shared hobbies.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Whoo boy. Self esteem: Unwavering when it comes to his job activities, and fairly bad considering everything else. He's one big walking emotional scar. Doesn't believe to be worthy of love and therefore remains oblivious to it for the longest. Probably has alexythymia on top of it. You have to grab him by the collar and shout I LOVE YOU, YOU BIG LUG into his face or he'll never get it.

Once you two are officially together he will give you plenty of everything that you need- except words. Won't tell you that he loves you unless you're on a hospital bed or something. His love language are everyday acts of service. That joke about a man who got told by his shrink that he should show his wife more affection, so he went and washed her car? It's been written about SImon Riley.

König

Self esteem: terrible. Frankly speaking, he should attend therapy before he even gets in a relationship. But shit happens, right?

He's touch starved, sex starved, obsessive and zealous. When he falls in love, it's as if he regressed into being a teenager again. He will idealize the SHIT out of you, you will become his sun, his sky, his everything. You say "jump!" and he happily throws himself over a precipice. Don't say "jump." If someone hurts you, the police will have a grotesquely mutilated corpse on their hands.

Love language: sex. He is very much a sub, even when he's the one holding a knife to your throat because you've asked him for it.

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fictionismyreality3 · 1 month

Text

Learned your lesson? (18+)

Simon Riley x Reader

Tags: Smut, daddy!simon, angry!simon

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, thigh riding, daddy kink, face slapping, slight impact play, spanking, face fucking, hair pulling, choking, exhibitionism if you squint

Notes: absolute dEBaUchErY 🤪 but I have no regrets 🤭 gimme a chance and I’d let Simon ruin my-

In hindsight, the situation you were in was probably your fault.

You hadn’t meant to make Simon angry, and he wasn’t really, but you were being a brat. In your defence, having him away from you all the time got a little lonely, and you could only fuck yourself with the dildo he got you so many times before you started wanting the real thing.

That’s why you had blown up his phone all day, sending him video after video of you fucking yourself in every room of your apartment, moaning his name as you came. In the back of your mind, you knew it was a bad idea, but it felt so deliciously good to imagine his eyes widening as he stood on base and got all your little gifts, especially when you were riding the dildo with his t-shirt on.

Your hands gripped the black marble countertop of your shared bathroom as you bounced your ass back against the wall, the hyper-realistic dildo hitting you just right. When Simon showed up with a clone-a-willy kit in hand before a long deployment, you nearly spat out the soda you were drinking.

“What the fuck is that?” You managed to sputter as you coughed, trying not to spit soda all over the living room carpet.

“Your stress reliever, luv’.” Simon’s eyes sparked behind his balaclava as he chuckled with mirth.

The rest of that night consisted of you whispering in his ear and tracing his neck with your tongue, keeping him hard as you carried out your diy sex toy production.

And now, as you fucked yourself on your clone of Simon’s cock, your phone propped up to record, the dildo did its job, but it wasn’t Simon.

It wasn’t him.

That’s why you made sure to look directly into the camera as you felt the familiar sparks building up in your core, and when you came, you let him know how much you missed him.

What you couldn’t have known, was that the wifi on base was horrendous. You’d think with the budget going towards the military, they could at least invest in a new router, but no. Simon often had to struggle through paperwork, which he already detested, waiting for the tiniest files to load. In your eagerness to tease him, you sent all the videos at once, but couldn’t have known that they’d take ages to get delivered.

By the time they reached their destination, blowing up Simon’s phone all at once, it was hours after you’d initially hit send. It was nearly impossible for him to be away from you as it is. As soon as he saw your face the day you met, he knew that he’d be needing you for the rest of his life.

He didn’t like leaving you and he didn’t like sharing.

Two weeks away from the only reminder of having a normal life was already painstaking. It was the last day on base and Simon was counting down the minutes till he could get home and show you how much he missed you. The time spent rubbing himself in the barracks bathroom, jerking his cock to the thought of you, all it had done was provide temporary relief. He needed the real thing.

He needed to be buried so deep in your tight little cunt that he made himself a part of you with each thrust.

Simon was counting down the minutes as he sat through the last briefing of the day, just a few hours away from getting to let out all his pent up tension, when his phone began to buzz endlessly. His heart spiked, threatening to burst from his throat as he saw the texts from you. Instantly, the worst case scenarios of what could’ve happened ran through his mind. He wasn’t a paranoid man by any means, but when it came to you, the only thing that mattered more that keeping you happy was your safety.

What if something happened? What if you were hurt? What if you’d been taken hostage and someone was sending him videos of you being tortured?

Okay, so, maybe a little paranoid.

Not wanting to wait in agonizing curiosity, he clicked open the attachment.

Within seconds, sounds of your wanton moaning filled the room, your breathy whimpers of his name silencing the rest of the 141 who had been debriefing. All eyes snapped to Simon as he fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the floor in his haste to mute the video. This interrupted Soap’s guffawing, as his eyes locked on the screen, the video of you riding the dildo he got you playing on repeat.

“Jesus Christ, Lt! Tha’ yer woman? She’s a sight to-” Gaz smacked him upside the head as Price tried to avert his eyes, clearing his throat.

“Watch your fuckin’ eyes, Johnny, before I rip ‘em outta your skull.” Simon snapped.

Finally, he managed to switch the video off, but the damage was done. Even though he sat as still as a statue for the rest of the brief, his balaclava hidden face betraying no emotion despite Soap’s repeatedly cheeky comments, Simon was livid.

From the time he first took you, he ruined you for anyone else. Nobody could replace him, nobody could break you or make you scream like he did. But you’d ruined everything else for him too. And just the thought of someone else getting to have you, getting to touch even an inch of your skin, was enough that he had to ball his fists so as not to throttle Johnny’s neck.

He trusted his guys with his life, even if he’d never tell them that. But this was different.

This was you.

While you giggling conspiratorially to yourself, thinking about the fun you’d have with him when he got home, Simon was whiteknuckling the wheel of his truck, trying not to break the speed limit to get home to you faster. His cock was achingly hard as he ran over how he planned to punish you again and again in his mind. You’d love every second of it, he always made sure you did, but he wanted to tease you just like you did him.

This is what he loved about you. How you were so eager to please, but so eager to rile him up, it was the perfect combination to make Simon’s cock scream at him to fuck your pretty throat.

He nearly ran a stop sign imaging cumming in your greedy mouth.

His dirty girl.

His greedy girl. He definitely couldn’t give you the usual treatment this time. The thought of your ass marked up with his handprints after a spanking was tempting, but you would enjoy it far too much. He wanted to see you struggle to get even the slightest bit of relief after the stunt you pulled.

The rumbling of his truck signalled his arrival to your keen ears, and you jumped up from the couch, running to the front door of the cozy house you’d bought together to stand on the porch waiting for him.

Simon got out of his truck. He knew you were standing there, where you always were to welcome him home after a deployment, but he didn’t look at you. Getting his gear bag from the back, he slung it over his shoulders and trudged up the front stairs. His kit was well over 100 pounds, but he still managed to carry it with one hand. The other hand shot out to wrap around your throat, causing you to stumble on your feet.

“Simo-” Your greeting was cut of by your now restricted air supply, and your hands instinctively clawed at his grip on your throat. He didn’t utter a word, only reached around you to open the door, pushing you inside as he followed, closing it with his foot.

You were pinned up against the wall as soon as his gear bag had hit the ground, and you could already hear his ragged breaths.

“D’you have any idea,” He huffed, trying to restrain himself from just fucking you against the wall. “how much shit you’re in for… love?” He ground out the pet name like it took effort for him to keep from swearing even more.

You quickly ran through everything that you could have done wrong in your mind. Sure, you’d been a brat all day, but Simon liked when you were bratty from time to time. Nothing you could think of could explain the tightly contained anger that was rippling off of him.

“What? Did you not like the videos?” You managed to say breathily, the grip on your throat keeping you perched on the edge of loosing your breath. “Did I not like the-” Simon stopped to let out a low, raspy chuckle, his head dropping to the crook of your neck.

“I loved the videos, sweetheart. An’ so did the boys.” He whispered slowly into your ear.

Immediately your face scrunched up as you tried to decipher what he meant.

“What do you mean, Si? I only….oh.” The reality of your mistake hit you all at once.

Oh.

How could you have forgotten that Simon would probably be around the rest of the 141, not to mention how inept with technology he was. No wonder the rest of the team saw you. Your swirling thoughts were broken up by Simon releasing your throat, only to grab your arm, and roughly drag you over to the couch.

“‘Oh’ is right, luv’.” He murmured as he sat down, pulling you on top of his lap to straddle him. Your hands instinctively went for his balaclava, wanting to take it off and see his face, a permission only you were granted.

Before your fingers could even meet the fabric, Simon was grabbing both your wrists with one hand, pinning them to your lap. You really had poked the bear in all senses of the word. Simon was utterly massive, and he could easily palm any part of you that would take most people two hands to hold.

With his free hand, he pushed his balaclava up so it rested just underneath his nose, his lips free to kiss you. Your stomach was churning with a mix of apprehension and excitement. You knew the look in his eyes, the look he only got when he was going to break you. It was nearly impossible to keep from leaning down and pressing a kiss to his inviting lips, but you knew that you were already in as much trouble as it was.

With the way you were straddling his lap, the thin material of your shorts allowed you to feel his cock growing ridged underneath you. Heat bloomed in your core and Simon’s grip on your wrists suddenly felt electric.

“You’re a greedy cockslut, aren’t you?” He slipped the hand which wasn’t keeping your wrists trapped underneath your shirt. “So desperate you jus’ had to be a brat, hm? Had to let everyone see wha’ a needy girl you are.”

The low, condescending tone of his voice made your head swim, and your breaths began to come faster and faster as he palmed your tits, beginning to play with your nipples. You couldn’t exactly be sorry when he was making you feel so good, but there was still some guilt in the back of your mind for putting him on the spot.

“Simon, I’m-” Simon’s large hand slapped you lightly across the cheek, tugging your hair to refocus your gaze on him. “Don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He pinched your nipple hard, causing you to reel forwards into his chest.

“What’s my fuckin’ name, huh? Only good girls get t’call me Simon.” He dug his fingers into the skin of your wrists, the pain warning you of what would come if you weren’t more obedient.

“…daddy?” You tried quietly.

Simon’s grip on your wrists lessened instantly, and his hands began to tease at your tits again. The whiplash of pain to pleasure was something that he had perfected, and he loved the way you’d bite your lip as you struggled to catch up. All it took was just getting you to call him daddy and he could already feel you melting in his lap, your eyes getting half lidded and foggy.

“That’s right, bunny. And daddy teaches his baby how to behave doesn’t he?” Simon said expectantly, beginning to peel off his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Y-yes, daddy.” The cold air hit your skin, sending a shiver through body as you were left in just your thin pajama shorts, straddling your hulk of a boyfriend. Without the t-shirt in the way, Simon had easy access to your gorgeous tits, and took the opportunity to take a nipple in between his teeth, his other hand running up and down your back.

He was rock hard by now, the feeling of your soft skin on top of him sending his mind into a buzzing haze of desire. All he wanted to do was rut up into that precious pussy of yours and make you cum around his cock. But he had to be patient. He had to make sure you knew what you did wrong.

As soon as he felt you begin to rock your hips, a movement so imperceptible that only those who knew you would realize what you want, he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Simon’s eyes were narrowed in warning, and a dark chuckled left his throat.

“You’re so greedy.” He growled, his fingers digging into your thighs. “Show daddy you’re more than jus’ a needy little girl.”

“How, daddy?” You breathed.

A whine fell from your lips as you slipped further away from being rational, your head fuzzy with want as you felt Simon’s cock pressed underneath you.

“Can’t get off without my cock, hm?” He thought back to the videos of you fucking yourself on the dildo he got you. Simon loosened his grip on your hips, allowing you to move, only to shifted you so that he could tear your pajama shorts off. He lifted you slightly so that you were straddling one of his thighs instead.

“You wanna cum s’badly? You need it s’much that you’re a brat?”

“Fuck yourself on my thigh then, luvie.”

Your breath left you in one big whoosh, and the moment Simon gave you permission to move, you were grinding down on his thigh. The fabric of his jeans rubbed against your clit, sending little jolts of pleasure through you.

Simon watched as your eyes got droopy, half opened through your haze of pleasure. He was still angry but right now all he could focus on was how pretty you looked. Your cheeks all flushed from his words and the exertion of grinding on him, your little hands holding onto his shoulders, and the wet spot on your panties.

“That’s it, pretty. Jus’ like that.” He groaned.

His cock felt impossibly hard, raging with need every time he looked at the way your tits bounced. Fumbling with his belt, he pulled his cock out. The noise caught your attention, and you faltered, going to reach for him. You didn’t get very far, because as soon as Simon felt you stop moving, he delivered two quick spanks to your ass.

You cried out in surprise and pain as he fisted one hand in your hair, and the other around his leaking cock. His hands were so big it made him look normal sized, but you knew he was easily almost ten inches.

“Such a whore.” He whispered, pulling your hair so your head was forced back. “Jus’ had t’get my cock in your mouth.”

Simon stroked himself lazily, savouring the wave of heat which coursed through him every time he ran a thumb over his tip. It wasn’t your touch, but it would do for now. Your gaze was forced to the ceiling as Simon kept you locked in position, observing you like his own personal work of art. The sound of his quiet groans filling your ears was torturous knowing you weren’t allowed to touch him. You could feel yourself leaking into his jeans, and knew he no doubt felt it too.

“Are you- oh, gonna be a good girl f’me?” His mouth latched on your exposed neck as he sucked a hickey into your skin, marking you as his. You were panting, practically trembling as he forced you to keep still. Simon was closer than he’d like to admit. It had been weeks since he’d touched you and just seeing you writhing on lap, trying to get whatever friction you could, made his cock leak.

“Say it, bunny.” He rasped into your ear, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“I’ve learned my lesson, daddy. Please, can I…” You trailed off, afraid that if you asked for his cock you’d seem ever more needy.

But Simon was thrilled.

Having the love of his life, almost naked on his lap, desperate to touch him was like a dream. The hand in your hair pushed your head down, his palm big enough to cover the back of your head.

“Suck.” He growled.

Rubbing the head of his cock along your mouth, demanding entrance, you parted your lips. Simon pushed inside of your mouth, heavy on your tongue as he let out a long, drawn out groan you wished you could have on repeat.

“Shit, sweathear’- oh, fuck..” He hissed. You could feel him twitching in your mouth.

He tried to focus on anything but the warm, wet-

Oh, god.

Simon bucked his hips up and began to fuck into you without warning, sending your hands shooting out to his stomach to catch yourself. His cock hit the roof of your mouth and your throat tightened on reflex as you tried not to gag. You could feel Simon’s nails digging into your scalp as he bobbed your head up and down.

“Sorry, luv’ I jus’,” He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of your lips around him. “Been achin’ for you, bunny. All those videos y’sent me.” He moaned, no longer able to keep himself from being gentle.

“Let daddy cum in y’mouth, sweetheart.”

The words flooded your pussy with heat, and Simon took notice of the way you moaned around his cock. He was strict, but he wasn’t cruel, and you had been good so far. Taking a little pity on you, Simon used his free hand to grab your hip, bouncing his leg so you could get a little relief. The sudden stimulation sent your dripping cunt into overdrive, and as Simon rammed his cock into your throat, you began to rut against his thigh.

He would’ve told you to keep your eyes on him, but they looked so pretty rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, yeah jus’ like that.” He said, his voice raspy as he tried to hold himself back. “Be good for daddy. Get close, luv’.”

You didn’t have to try with the way your cunt was clenching around nothing. Every bounce of his leg rubbed your clit against his jeans, and he pushed you further by holding your hip to help you grind against him. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, and Simon knew it too with the way you were moaning around his cock. Every noise you made sent a vibration through him, and he began to fuck your mouth with abandon, his balls tightening in anticipation.

“Oh, god. Oh f-fuck, bunny keep-” He spasmed in your mouth. “Keep suckin’ just like tha’. Daddy’s gonna cum in your pretty lil’ mouth.”

His words made your head spin. The only thought on your mind was drawing as much pleasure from him as you could, so you took his balls in your hand, rolling them a few times to push him over the edge. Your core was fluttering with need as you rutted against Simon’s leg, which he kept bouncing, hitting your swollen clit mercilessly. It was too much for both of you after weeks without each other.

Simon’s hand left your hip so he could tangle both hands in your hair, the need for his own pleasure taking over. You managed to glance up, wanting to see his face as he came.

“Luvie.. luvie, oh sweatheart.” His mouth hung open as he let out a noise he didn’t know he could make. The sight of you grinding desperately against his thigh tipped him over the edge.

“Oh, fuck. Bun-”

Ropes of hot, thick cum shot down your throat, filling your mouth and spilling past your lips. The taste of Simon on your tounge was enough to break you. Your mind shattered as you began rutting on his thigh, not caring how needy you looked, the heat in your pussy sent you spiralling. Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you gushed all over Simon’s leg as he pressed himself so deep into your mouth that your nose hit his stomach.

He sent the last of his load down your throat and pulled your head up as you gasped for air. The world was fuzzy, but you felt two big, strong arms pulling you up from where you’d collapsed forward onto Simon’s stomach.

Taking you into his lap, he ran a hand through your hair as he rubbed your back in slow, comforting circles. His cock lay resting against his stomach, big even when it was getting soft. Simon’s hand found your chin and he turned your gaze to his, helping you come back to reality by taking off his balaclava to let you see his face.

“Did so good f’me, pretty.” He pressed a kiss to your nose, making you giggle.

“Thank you, daddy.” You managed to say, your eyes getting droopy as sleepiness began to creep in.

“I think you learned your lesson, sweetheart.” He mused, noticing your breaths begin to slow. “Jus’ rest here, luv’.”

“Daddy’s got you.”

Simon watched with reverence as your head rested against his shoulder, your flushed cheeks making you look even cuter than you did choking on his cock. This was good. This was right. He’d take care of you forever, he knew it from the moment he saw you. You didn’t realize yet, but you had one hell of a guardian angel on your side.

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