#ghost x fem ! reader
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Try a Little Tenderness
Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Reader
Summary: Simon has just returned home in the middle of the night from a mission in less than stellar condition. Understanding that he was in desperate need of some TLC, you put aside the ‘frenemy’ dynamic the two of you usually operate within to take care of him, instead. Your gentle ministrations elicit a reaction that neither of you expect, but perhaps have been yearning for all along.
Warnings: Language, explicit sexual content, touching of naughty bits - Simon gets a helping hand in the bath, fluff and feelings, no Y/N
(A/N: This is a thot connected to an idea I had for a series. Still not sure about the series, but what ev.
This is just me exploring the intimate relationship between the characters. It is minor smut compared to what I usually write, meant to be a vulnerable moment for Simon, and for reader as well. I dunno, I feel like a certain amount of trust needs to be established before Simon allows himself to be with someone in an intimate way.
For a little backstory, Reader is Simon’s housekeeper/roommate/frenemy. It’s been platonic up to this point, but there have been some charged moments leading up to this. This is the turning point in the relationship, the first time Simon allows himself to really indulge in reader’s attention and care. Reader and Simon have been living together for about a year by this point but have known each other for almost two. Simon’s pet name for reader is ‘Doll’; reader’s pet name for Simon is ‘Grumpy’.)
Word Count: 2777
It was almost midnight by the time Simon shuffled through his front door. He was dead on his feet, still wearing the same clothes he put on three days ago, covered in filth and stinking to high hell. He would normally have stayed on base, cleaned up, ate and retired to his quarters to rest, but for some reason, he’d texted you mid-flight to tell you he was on his way back. He hadn’t been expecting an immediate answer, but he got one.
[DOLL]: What’s ur ETA? I’ll wait up 4 u. Have u eaten?
Simon had hovered over his phone, glancing about the plane, not sure how to respond. He supposed he didn’t have to stay on base. He’d just never had a reason to return home before. He knew he should tell you not to wait up, to go to bed, that he would see you tomorrow, but instead he found himself tapping out a different message.
[GRUMPY]: Landing in twenty. Be home approx 2hrs.
[DOLL]: I’ll be waiting. C u soon.
He re-read the message several times. ‘I’ll be waiting.’ This was new for him, having someone to go home to, having someone there expecting him, waiting up to see him. Sure, he had come home to you before, but not like this. This was... premeditated.
As he closed the door behind him and locked it, he heard your feet padding through the sitting room and turned. He couldn’t help the smile that spread under the balaclava when he saw you. You were dressed in one of his old T-shirts, a pair of flannel sleep shorts peeking out beneath the hem, and a pair of those ugly fuzzy socks on your feet. Your hair was loose and hanging down your back, not quite dry yet from an earlier shower, and your face was free of makeup. He liked seeing you like this better than any other way.
You were looking at him in that direct way that always got to him, assessing him, checking him over. He waited for one of your customary snarky greetings, but instead your brows furrowed.
“You look exhausted, Si. C’mere. Sit down,” you instructed, pointing at the entryway bench. Simon didn’t even hesitate, just did as he was told. He watched you kneel before him and start unlacing his boots.
“Ya don’t got t’do that, Doll. I can―“
“Si, hush,” you murmured, your voice soft and gentle. “I got this, okay? You’re home. Relax.”
He didn’t have it in him to argue, so let you have your way. You removed his boots and stuck them under the bench by his trainers, then stood and held your hand out. “C’mon. You need a bath.”
He let you lead him up the stairs, but instead of taking him to his ensuite bathroom, you led him down the hallway to the bathroom that you used. You motioned for him to sit down on the toilet while you stoppered the tub and turned on the taps. He watched with curiosity as you opened the cabinet below the sink, taking out a glass jar filled with some sort of pinkish granules, sprinkling a generous portion of it into the filling tub.
“Wha’s that?”
“Epsom salts with lavender and eucalyptus. It’ll help ease your sore muscles,” you told him, replacing the jar in the cabinet. You turned to look him over again. “Let’s get you out of those dirty clothes. I’ll get you some clean ones once you’re in the bath. C’mon. Arms up.”
Simon thought about objecting. He was a grown man, he could undress himself, but as soon as he felt your hands on him, all complaints went right out the window. He held his arms out so you could pull the tail of his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, shivering when he felt your fingers graze his lats as you peeled it up and over his head.
“I smell like shite,” he grumbled, embarrassed for you to be this close to him when he was in such a disgusting state.
You huffed, the sound low and amused. “You smell like a soldier who just got back from deployment. Believe me, I’ve smelled worse.” You motioned for him to stand again. Once he regained his feet, your hands went to his waist, undoing the belt and pulling it free, then you undid the button and fly of his jeans. You pushed them down until they bunched around his knees, then instructed him to lean on you while you tugged them off his legs.
And he just... let you. He had not had anyone care for him like this since his last stint in the medical bay, and that had been a male nurse with hands rougher than his own. He’d not had a woman care for him like this since he was a small boy, when his mother would get him ready for his bath. He felt his chest constrict, almost told you to stop, but your hand on the back of his calf silenced him.
“Foot up,” you said, letting him lean on you again as you stripped off first one sock and then the other. Once you straightened, you placed a hand at the small of his back and gave him a gentle push towards the tub. “I’ll go get you some clean clothes while you get in,” you said, then stooped to gather up his dirty things. “Be back in a minute.”
You left him staring after you, disappearing down the hallway. He turned back to the tub, eyeing the hot water lapping at the sides. Aromatic steam rose from its surface, too tempting to ignore. Pushing his underwear off his hips, he let them drop on the floor and stepped out of them, then climbed into the tub.
He groaned long and low as the hot water enveloped him, certain he had never felt anything better in his whole life. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head back on the edge, only then realizing that he still had on his balaclava. He hesitated for a moment, then reached up and pulled it off as well, dropping the dirty hood on top of his underwear. Fuck it. You’d seen his face before and hadn’t made a big deal out of it, didn’t even comment on it, really, just took it in stride like you did everything else.
He cracked an eye open when you re-entered the room, watching as you placed his clean clothes on the counter next to the sink. You opened another cabinet and removed some towels and a washcloth, glanced over at him, then opened a drawer and took out what looked like a pack of wipes and a squat, plastic jar with a pink lid. You brought it all to the tub with you and knelt by the side, near his head. You held up the pack of wipes and pointed at the black paint around his eyes.
“Figured these would help take that gunk off. I’ve got some cold cream, too. Can I...”
You wanted to touch his face. His mouth dropped open to say no, but then he closed it and swallowed. You were looking right at him, a normal expression on your face, not flinching away or averting your eyes. If it didn’t bother you, then he would allow it. For now. He gave a slow nod of assent.
You opened the pack of wipes and set them beside you, then opened the cold cream. “Lean your head back and close your eyes for me.”
Simon did as he was told, though his brain was sounding a klaxon alarm in his head. He was exposing his throat to someone, was closing his eyes and leaving himself vulnerable to your mercy. Did you see how tense he was? Could you see the muscles spasming as he fought not to move, to push you away, to fend you off like an enemy? Did you understand what this was doing to him right now?
Apparently, you did, at least to some extent.
“Okay, Si. I’m going to put this cream around your eyes. It will feel cold, so don’t freak out. If you need to stop, just say the word. Alright?”
“Yeah,” he croaked out, waiting, steeling himself for the contact.
The first touch had him flinching, but he forced himself to remain still as you spread the cream around his eyes, working it in with your fingers in small circular motions. When you finished, you set the jar down and picked up the wipes. “I’m gonna clean all this off with these wipes. They’ll feel cold, too.”
This time, he only nodded, more relaxed now. Your touch had been soothing once he’d gotten used to it. It was... nice. He didn’t even twitch an eyelash when he felt the cool pressure of your fingers against his jaw, letting you tilt his head towards you. Your other hand began wiping gently at his face with one of the wipes. They smelled slightly floral, similar to the cold cream; he liked it.
It took several minutes to clean his face, neither of you saying anything. You were patient and methodical, cleaning away all the paint until none of it remained.
“Okay. Done with that,” you murmured, fingers moving from his face to his hair. “I’m going to wash your hair next, okay?”
“Hm,” he hummed in consent, not even bothering to open his eyes.
You wet his hair and then poured shampoo into your palm, working your hands together before placing them on his head. As your fingers curled and began to work his hair into a lather, Simon couldn’t help the low groan that rumbled out. It felt like heaven, the way your fingers massaged his scalp and neck. He could have whined when you stopped, but his breath hitched when he felt your fingertips under his chin, tilting his head back.
“Just need to rinse your hair, Grumpy. Keep your eyes closed.”
Again, he did as you instructed, not offering so much as a grunt of complaint when you rinsed his hair and then used the washcloth to dry his face. You raked your fingers through his hair, noting how choppy and uneven it was. Maybe he’d let you cut it some time, but for now, you would stick to what you knew he would allow.
“How ‘bout I wash your back for you and then I’ll go downstairs and make you something to eat while you finish your bath?”
He blinked his eyes open and stared at you. The steam and trapped heat from the bath were making you sweat, a light sheen making your skin gleam in the warm light. He had the sudden urge to run his thumb up your throat, collect the moisture beading there and taste it. He felt his cock give a twitch of interest below the water and brought his bent knees closer together. Grasping the edges of the tub, he pulled himself in to a sitting position, back bowed towards you.
Pleased to see him so cooperative, you dunked the washcloth in the water and grabbed your body wash, squirting out a couple of dollops. Working the cloth in your hands until you had a good lather, you rested one hand on his shoulder and used the other to slowly scrub the cloth over his back in large circles. You could feel the tension easing out of his shoulders, watched his head tip forward until he finally crossed his forearms on his knees and rested his forehead against them.
When you were done with his back, you didn’t stop, moving up to his shoulders and then down his arm. He leaned back, studying the way you washed each finger, working the cloth between them. You glanced up at him. “Other arm?”
He twisted around and held his arm out to you, resting his wrist on the edge of the tub. You washed it with as much care as you had the other, leaning over the tub to reach his underarm. When you went to slide the cloth away, he caught your wrist and pulled it to the center of his chest. He then closed his eyes and leaned back, letting his head rest against the edge again.
Slow circles worked the lathered cloth over his broad chest and collarbones, and you smiled when he tipped his chin up to let you wash his neck. A soft breath hissed between his lips as your hand dipped below the water’s surface to wash his sides and stomach, his brows ticking together when you brought the cloth back up. He shifted, his knees going wide to lean against the sides of the tub.
You were beginning to feel heat simmering in your lower belly that sent a blush creeping up your neck. “Do, uh... I can wash your legs next. If you like.”
He caught your hand in his, eyes still closed, and pushed it beneath the water again. “Wash here,” he replied, his voice like gravel in his throat.
You held your breath as he guided your hand down to his cock, let him wrap your fingers around its swollen girth and hold them there. His chest was rising and falling, chin tipping forward to rest on it when he felt you grip him tighter. Your lips parted as you gave him a tentative stroke, your breath puffing out in little pants as you watched him let out a shuddering breath, his eyes rolling open to reveal a lust-dazed expression before sliding closed again.
Your hand slid up and down his shaft in slow, even strokes, working him gradually, wanting him to enjoy what you were doing to him. His pleasure incited your own, and you could feel your panties grow damp with your arousal as you watched him slowly fall apart. He was panting now, head lolling back once more, hooded, hazy eyes staring up at the ceiling, his knuckles going white as they gripped the edge of the tub.
Your thighs squeezed together when a wrecked moan tore from his lips as you worked at him beneath the cloudy water, wishing it was clear enough for you to see him as well as feel him. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, the feel of his hot length pulsing in your hand almost too much to bear.
“Ah, fuck...” he huffed out, his back beginning to curl forward. He lifted his eyes to yours, mouth open and panting, a look of near desperation on his face. His hand came up to grip the nape of your neck, drawing you close until his forehead rested against yours, holding your gaze. His nose brushed against yours in an intimate caress, lips almost touching, the two of you sharing the same air. “Don’t stop,” he husked out.
The speed of your strokes increased, your hand slipping up to focus on the head, making his knees draw up as he tensed. You could feel him swelling in your hand, growing bigger and harder as he neared his release. His eyes grew wide, mouth falling open as his jaw went slack.
“It’s okay, Simon,” you whispered to him, “I got you,” and that was all the prompting he needed.
His grip turned into a vice on the nape of your neck as he erupted beneath the surface of the water, and he growled against your mouth, teeth gritting into a snarl as he pulsed in your hand. You didn’t stop stroking him until his eyes closed and grip loosened on your neck, his breaths puffing out in exerted gasps over your lips.
You let him rest against you, not bothering to move or say anything, wanting him to have this quiet moment, to just relax in the knowledge that he was home and safe, that you were here for him. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy the moment as well, relishing the quiet, the peace.
Simon’s eyes flickered open, not sure what to expect, only to find your eyes closed, lashes shadowing your cheeks, a gentle smile on your face. You looked so calm, so at peace. You looked... content.
You blinked your eyes open, startled, when you felt the hesitant press of his lips against yours, but you didn’t shy away, instead letting him feel you smile against his lips before you tenderly kissed him back.
#simon ghost riley x fem reader#cod ghost x fem reader#simon riley x fem reader#ghost x fem reader#simon ghost riley x reader#cod ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod ghost smut#cod fanfic#cod mw2 smut#cod mw2 fanfic#soft smut
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Scent
Alpha!Simon Riley x Omega!Reader
Warning: non-explicit smut.
Summary: Building nests was part of the process of an Omega going into heat. However you never actually thought you would find yourself locked away in a house with your Lieutenant.
To say that the mission has gone to shit would be an understatement.
They were hunting you down and if it wasn't for Ghost, you would be dead by now.
If it wasn't for him and his sharp reflexes you would be lying with a bullet in your skull.
But you weren't.
Instead, you were in a much worse situation.
At the start of your mission, you took your suppressants, figuring you would be back the next day, you didn't even pack any, so now, you were here, on an uncomfortable mattress, trying to make it homey for your heat.
You never actually minded going into heat. You could just lock your door, fill your room with food and be good for a couple of days.
But this was a very different situation.
You were in a bunker-like building, hiding for survival with an Alpha who was also your Lieutenant.
Not a situation you wanted to be in.
"You need to rest, I will keep watch." he avoided you, and didn't even come close to you, he just stopped at the door, never entering the room. He did put food down for you on the floor every day, commenting when you didn't eat something.
He was kind.
You knew he could smell your heat coming up, Alphas always did.
You know the upcoming days will be as much of a torture for him, as it will be for you.
You were glad it was Ghost with you, at least he had control over his alpha.
Before you could reply, he already left. Going as far away from you as possible. Yet, your smell still lingered.
Sure, Simon had control over his alpha, but the temptation was too great. You were perfect. In every aspect of the word. The perfect woman, partner, and omega.
At first, Simon thought you had no place in the army, he thought Price had gone insane but you proved him wrong.
Your kindness wasn't your weakness, instead your strength.
Simon took a deep breath, his mind and body immediately filled up with your scent, and how sweet you smelled. Simon, out of frustration, hit the wall, making the brick crumble.
He knew he should be there with you, help you, and yet, he was forcing himself away from you.
Even if everything inside him was screaming for him to go to you, help you, feed you, and keep you safe and comfortable.
He knew he can't.
The next day he brought you another plate of food.
"Ghost..." your voice came out way too desperate. "Can I have your shirt, please? The smell of the... pillows are..." Simon didn't need to be asked twice. He handed you his sweatshirt in a swift movement. "Thank you." he watched as you cuddled up with his clothes and he couldn't help but wish it was him. He forced himself to stand up and leave.
His scent really did help ease your pain as your heat reached its high.
Your mind is filled with all the different lewd things.
And yet, somehow, even with a hazy mind, even with a fog before your eyes, deep down, you knew better than to act upon those images filling your mind.
But you didn't know how to keep your scent at bay, not like there was a method or something.
And it caused quite an interesting reaction with Simon.
While you were locked in a room, touching yourself to the thought of an Alpha, he kept stroking his cock to the scent and thought of you.
You both knew it was forbidden, but no one was around, no one could hear your thoughts and your moans.
And for now, it was enough.
---
Thankfully, your heat soon ended, Simon got used to your smell as it slowly weakened.
You started to grow stronger, and back to normal, but it will take you a couple of days to be fully back in action.
Simon knew this.
"How are you feeling?" he asked from the doorway, while you lay on the mattress on the floor.
"Your smell disappeared," you said with a pout as you looked at him.
"I will give you my shirt then, let's exchange." he said as he held out his shirt for you to take, you gave him the sweatshirt back.
His shirt smelled like you now.
"We will have to leave in a few days, we have been here for almost a week now. We cannot stay, they will find us."
"I will be good to go tomorrow. I'm still a bit hazy though," you said and Simon nodded.
"How can I help more?"
"You have done plenty, Simon." use never used his name before, it was always Lieutenant or Ghost, nothing more, nothing less.
You kept it professional. Until now.
"I will bring you more food for dinner, so you can have your strength back."
"Thank you, Alpha." you whispered the last part, but he heard you.
God, he heard you very well. As the door closed behind him, he just stood there, too stunned to move. Everything in him screamed to go inside and to claim you.
But he couldn't. He shouldn't.
And yet, he did.
He turned right back, opened the door and for the first time in four days, he stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.
He looked at you as you lay with his shirt pressed into your face, smelling it.
He knelt down beside you, taking deep breaths to remember your scent.
You opened your eyes and smiled at him.
"Took you long enough." you said as you moved to turn around and leave some space behind yourself.
"Shut it." he whispered before he moved to lay down with you in your nest, holding you close with his nose in your hair. "Omega." he said and it made you humm. "You smell so good." he took a deep breath and you smiled to yourself, not opening your eyes.
You put your hand on his which held you close by your stomach.
"You could have been here for my heat."
"I wouldn't have been able to control myself."
"Of course, you would have. You are Simon Riley... What made you realize that I wanted you here all along?"
"Your smell had a hint of sadness every day. But when I came into the room... you smelled like hope and..."
"Love." you finished for him. "Am I truly that obvious?"
"The smell of an Omega never lies to an Alpha."
"You are right, I'm a lot happier as well."
"Same."
"I wish we didn't have to leave."
"Same." he breathed out one last time before you fell asleep in his arms.
Building nests was part of the process of an Omega going into heat.
And Simon never failed to notice that you made yours bigger, to give room to him.
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House Shopping with Simon Riley
Little drabble right before shift starts at work. Literally what the title says, but with public (not sure if you can call it that) but... having in a relations in a place you shouldn't?? SimonRileyxFemale!reader
Language, p in v, quickie
but just know NSFW NSFW NSFW!!!
Somehow, you had domesticated Simon "Ghost" Riley. It was baffling to everyone, including The Ghost himself. Not to you, however. Loving him was easy in your eyes. Someone so patient as you finding no chore in the task.
And that's why Simon literally bent over backward for you. Never at your request, though. You needed something? He was there with it shortly after you said it would help. Even when you wouldn't say anything. He noticed the tires on your car getting bald, paying for a new set, and replacing the worn ones.
It was the least he could do for you. So when it came to the next step, moving from a small flat to an actual house, he didn't hesitate. It had to be a place to make into a home. Strong, sound four walls to make sure you were in a safe place while he was away. With a nice view preferably with no close neighbors to be watching you while he couldn't shield you. A place with a kitchen for meals, and a big one at that. The bedroom needed to be large and spacious for your bed. Maybe even a few other rooms to fill later down the road with little bodies split of the image of you both. Only the best for his, Love.
Finally, a realtor had found a house with all the list of his demands. Taking the day, he told you to dress nice, business casual. You had dressed in a white crisp cotton collard shirt with a tight pencil skirt, and him in a white shirt matching with a black tie and slacks.
"Where are we going?"
"Lawyer."
"A lawyer?!" You asked, shocked, looking at him stunned while he backed up the vehicle, his arm draped over onto your seat.
"Lawyer." He confirmed.
"What for?"
"You'll see when we get there, calm down."
Fiddling with the hem of your skirt the entire time of the drive, you continued with the same nervous habit in the lawyer's office. Only now, you were bouncing your knee as well. Simon's hand reaching over and squeezing your thigh, his way of telling you silently to calm down.
The lawyer had sat down at his desk with a stack of paperwork next to him. It was about the third or fourth page in the stack that you understood that this had to do with a large sum of money. You just didn't understand what for. Your suspicion signified from a raised eyebrow to Simon, but all he wore was a knowing smirk.
"Just need you both to sign these pages," the lawyer you didn't even know his proper name said.
"What am I signing?" You asked
"Just trust me," Simon said, leaning forward pen in hand and sliding the paper over to you.
You sighed, frustrated, but his words enough to quell your worry and anxiety.
You tried to glance over the paperwork, still looking for any hints of what you were signing your life away too, but the jarble of the language too much to just get by skimming.
"Did you find one then?" The lawyer asked.
"Still have to look at it, but believe so." Simon answered.
Conveniently, all was said as you were signing the last page, leaving you unable to ask any questions. Simon stood up, hand out to you to grab. Feeling annoyed and left out, you did it anyway.
"Good luck," Mr. Unknown lawyer waved to you both as you left.
"Simon," your eyes burning into the side of his head.
"It's a surprise..." he said while laughing, watching you roll your eyes and groaning at the same time ,"I'm gonna show you."
"Show me?"
"Sit back," he said, giving you a side eye, tired of your questions.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The shock you felt was unexplainable when he pulled into a driveway of a home with a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.
"Si-mon," dragging his name out for effect.
"I want us to buy a home together." Blurting it like it had been killing him to hide from you.
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack. Taking money out of a firm that I've had stored away for a while. This is the house closest that fits what I want to give you."
"SI-mon." The excitement you felt when he told he what he had been planning.
"Come on, realtor is waiting," he said, finally opening his car door. Quickly, you joined him, your heels clacking on the cement driveway with joy.
Just as Simon had said, there in the doorway stood a woman who was there to show the house. Holding a clipboard in a green pantsuit and large black rimmed glasses looking all prim and proper with a large smile. Ready to sell this house.
To say the house was stunning was an understatement. Vaulted ceilings, large kitchen with an island in the middle, pantry just off of it. Multiple bathrooms on both floors of the house. Natural light from the windows for days. Your attention was now looking over the bedrooms. Checking out a smaller closet that was between the master bedroom and guest room. The realtor you had learned her name as Peggy, walking around a room in the opposite direction.
What shocked you was Simon pushing you into this small linen closet and shutting the door behind him.
"Simon!" you said his name for the upteenth time today.
"Shhhhhh," he said grinning deviously as he stood before you.
The hot air from his shushing made your skin prickle, but him removing his black tye in a swift motion made your blood run cold. He made a swift loop after lifting your wrists above your head, wrapping it up around a wooden rod to hold hangers just above your head. Then, he pulled it tight as gently as your torso stretched perking your chest to him.
"So hard, not to touch you like this. " his mouth against your cheek and then into your ear. "Skirt looks so nice on you." Gasping, feeling his teeth nip into the pillar on your neck.
"Need ta' test the bones of this house, make sure it's good enough." Coy with a shit eating smile.
His fingers slipping up your skirt, pushing it up at the same time. There he rubbed against your core, making you moan.
"Shhhh," he said while chuckling. "Can't have Peggy hearing us. Worked so hard to find this house, can't ruin her work now." Teasing into your ear while he rubbed circles into your clit. Instead of taking the risk of getting caught, you leaned your head into his chest, masking your sounds there.
Pushing your panties to the side, his fingers rub your bare pussy. What he was doing was testing the waters, checking to see if you were wet enough to take him. Little did he know, your gates of arousal started to flood seeing him slip his tye off so quickly, revealing the collarbone you love to sink your teeth into.
"Dirty girl," he cooed into your ear while plunging a finger in. The stretch felt good but was pulled from you quickly. Your eyes narrowed at him in disappointment, but quickly changed to euphoria as his cock entered you abruptly.
You bit your lip trying to contain your moans, the whole situation hot to you. His large hands gripped your waist and set you on a narrow shelf, you assumed it was for shoes, but it was perfect for this. It allowed him to enter you faster and deeper. The position brought you closer to the brink, his pace perfect.
Your body was starting to catch fire, slipping your legs around him to pull him closer, sending you over the edge. Trying to roll your head back but unable to find anything to rest it on, let Simon see your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loved the feeling of being unable to move at his mercy and will. Thankfully, he was always into pleasing your needs quickly.
His chest lightly thundering with a chuckle watching you come undone.
His rhythm becomes harder, desperate for his own release. Slamming into you faster, you could feel his hot seed fill you making you whimper as your pussy clamped around him greedily taking it all.
"Good girl," he grunted, slowing down. Both of your shallow breaths filled the small space. Simon leaned down and kissed you as he pulled out. Quickly, you pushed your thighs together while he untied you from the rod. Once free, you pushed your panties back over to catch his cum before it dripped down your thighs and onto your black skirt.
"Like that?" He asked, still wearing his devil grin. Clearly, he was proud of the act.
"Very much so," you said helping him tie his tye.
"Hello??" Peggy said, while looking for you both.
It made you cringe a smile, and laugh amongst each other.
Simon tried to deflect the dirty deed you had just done together. Pushing the door open quietly, stating, "This is a perfect place to use, keep my tyes in." A statement that was a double-edge sword. It is a statement that not only you and Simon understood, but clearly, so did Peggy. Her jaw was slack mouth agape, making you both divert your eyes from her.
"It's perfect. We'll take it." Simon's tone almost boastful as he thought about the other places he would rail you in...or on.
Simon Riley Masterlist
#cod mw2#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#mw2#call of duty#call of duty mw2#ghost x reader#ghost#simon riley x you#simon smut#simon ghost riley smut#simon#simon x fem reader#simon x female reader#simon x reader#ghost x fem reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x fem!reader#ghost call of duty#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x reader
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not quite heart-shaped
simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader
synopsis: you and simon both have the 14th off, and by god you were going to make the most of it. pt. 4/?
wc: 2.3k
cw: afab + fem!reader, fluff, banter, cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, very light breeding kink, femme pet name (princess), no use of y/n ever.
an: the return of medic reader, special thanks to @weebitofaslag who with a single comment reignited my love for their dynamic. babes all my knowledge of the military comes from romance novels, mw2 campaign and my fleeting contact with the canadian armed forces. so like if i get something wrong…don’t tell me. happy valentines day!
pt. 1
pt. 2
pt. 3
"Three." The tense quiet of the bedroom is disrupted by your offer.
Ghost stands in front of you, and despite his crossed arms his posture is deceptively casual.
He scoffs at your pitch. The standoff is common for the two of you. Basically foreplay at this point. Pretending to be irritated and annoyed with each other until you're basically begging to rip each other's clothes off.
"No way." He grunts, but doesn't provide a number of his own.
You can't keep the disbelief out of your tone.
"Less than three, Simon? You're losing your touch!"
That does get a rise out of him and he stops leaning against the bathroom door frame.
"More than three. Anything less than five is a waste of both of our days off. But you knew that, didn't you, princess?"
"I don't know if I have five in me to give, honestly." You choke out, already tugging off the sweater you wore.
"If I'm eating you out, I'm spending the day down there." He huffs.
You're breathless when you finally respond, your cool and collected demeanour crumbling in the wake of his assertion.
"Yeah okay, that's fine, but wanting to fuck me after? I may not even be conscious." When he doesn’t respond, you gasp dramatically, like a soap opera lead discovering a villain’s plot. "Maybe that's what you want! Simon! Who knew you were so depraved?" It’s easy to be silly with him lately, even more so when you’re both free of the oppressive air of the base you’re both stationed at.
"Get on the bed or get out of my house." His shirt’s already off, and it’s oh so hard to stay on the task of mocking him when the cut muscle and little bit of fat on his torso shine under the room’s low light. With the mask still on, and the dark fabric of his pants obscuring his bottom half, he makes quite the sight. The pale, wide expanse of his chest, only broken up by tattoos and healed, pink scars and sandy, blond chest hair makes your mouth water. He steps towards you, hooking the thumb under the mask and pulling it up. It feels as though the cloth is moving in slow motion, your heart beating loud and erratic with anticipation. When he stops so it rests on his nose, you exhale, not quite disappointed, but you sure as hell aren’t relieved.
“Sex in a bed?” You question facetiously, willing your brain to revert back to being a little shit. You know he can’t stand when you're being a brat, it reminds him of just how easily he’d lost control, just how messily he’d fucked you the first time, but around Simon you just can't seem to stop yourself, “You're spoiling me.” You lay back on the bed as ordered, contorting your arms to shimmy out of your bra, then your bottoms, tugging your underwear along with them. Not a thong this time, a fact that seems to disappoint Simon when he notices your regular boyshort panties entangled in your discarded sweatpants.
“Yeah, don't get used to it, I'm just tired of the smell of antiseptic.” He mutters, kicking your discarded clothes off to the side.
You snort derisively, spreading your legs so he can lay between them, allowing for him to brush the petal soft skin of his lips against your hip, your thigh, just above your knee. “Ladies and gentlemen, the last true romantic.” You mumble, patting the top of his head, lamenting your inability to card your fingers through his fine blonde hair.
Your entire body jolts when his tongue comes in contact with your clit, a full body shiver alerting Ghost to just how badly you'd needed this. He hasn't shaved and his stubble scrapes the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing a jolt up your spine, shuddering breaths escaping your lungs as his mouth gets better acquainted with the lips of your cunt.
He drags his tongue over you in your entirety, taking special interest in the skin just below your entrance, he stays there, skimming, sucking, licking, until you're worried he'll manage to give you a hickey there, on your fucking taint. He has you dripping with his spit and your own slick, and the sound when he returns to your clit is obscene. He brings both hands up towards your abdomen, but neither continues the course to where you want them, on top of your chest, plucking at your nipples, or even around your throat, obstructing your airway. Instead, Simon's left hand pushes down on your abdomen, and his right gently shifts the hood of your clit up so he can abuse it better.
All the soldiers in all the world and you had to hook up with the one who eats pussy like that?
"Fuck." You wince, and you twitch away from him as best you can, which only makes him suck harder, like he’s giving you ‘two for flinching’. You groan loud and unashamed, assured by the privacy afforded by not fucking on base for once. Your toes curl and relax over and over, the periodic tremble of your hips against his mouth has him holding you down as best he can, determined to pull more sounds from your wide open mouth. Your whole body tenses and you let out a litany of curses only disrupted by stutters of his name, all while you clench around nothing. He’s mumbling into you as you come, but whatever he’s saying ultimately doesn’t fucking matter when the vibrations of his voice make you want to cry or scream or kick Simon in his stupid masked face.
There's barely any hangtime between your orgasm shuttering through you and Simon circling his arms around your thighs before he tongue fucks you mercilessly, letting the tip of the muscle broach your entrance while he drags the edge of his teeth over the still buzzing flesh of your labia. He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you onto his face, until you get with the program and begin rolling your hips, pressing your clit against the bridge and tip of his nose, allowing his tongue to push deeper within you.
Your body is already dripping its satisfaction all over his chin, and this time with breath barely in your lungs it takes longer for him to get you into a place of desperation again. But by God, does Simon Riley get you there. This time he takes a break from the constant contact between your cunt and his tongue to slip one of his thumbs into your entrance, fucking you with slow and deliberate strokes, like a promise of what he’ll do to you later when he finally fucks you. Long, greedy swipes of his tongue jar your brain like a hit to the head. You try to struggle away, levering up with your arms before he tugs you down again like a fucking ragdoll, like you trying not to lose your fucking mind is a slight inconvenience to him. He lays wet, panting, open mouth kisses over the pulsing heat of your cunt, and when you you raise your head to - fuck you don’t know - curse his entire bloodline, you can see he’s helplessly grinding his hips into the mattress, seeking some sort of friction while he tongues at your folds, while you soak him to the knuckle. It’s hot, hotter than it has any right to be and you flop back down, turning your head into his pillow to muffle your moans. Old habits and all that. Unfortunately, the pillow is steeped in Simon’s scent, and your eyelids drift closed when you inhale deeply. Your breath stalls and you ride out yet another climax on his tongue, this time very grateful for the way he fingers you through it, even if his thumb isn’t nearly big enough. The bed beneath you bears the brunt of your orgasm this time, damp sheets attesting to your fervent enjoyment.
“What a mess you’ve made.” He speaks, once you stop huffing, voice disturbingly even, like he didn’t just factory reset your body. Which is…incredibly irritating.
“You know technically as a doctor I outrank you.” You snip, nose in the air.
“So?” He lifts his head, but his eyes are still locked between your legs, not quite able to decide if he wants to move from where he is so clearly comfortable.
“So…” you mock him, squeezing your thighs around his neck, until his stare is redirected to your face. “you should be fucking nice to me, asshole.” He digs his thumbs into the back of your knees, until you release him. Slowly, he drags himself up, over your body until he can lay on his back next to you.
“You know, I really should have finished inside you that first time. Knocked you up and had you taken off base.” And wouldn’t that have been a fun conversation for you to have with your CO. ‘I’m so sorry ma’am, he wears a mask and has big hands and knows my kinks. I had no choice, ma’am.’
“Stop talking or I’m gonna sit on your dick.” You whisper, shutting your eyes against the harsh beam of the light overhead. Your heart rate is finally starting to settle, and you’re grateful for the moment of reprieve, the few moments he gives for you to stitch your mind back together, to regain purposeful use of the human language.
Shoulder to shoulder in his bed, and no longer occupied with singing Simon’s praises, your mind begins to harmlessly wander, unhelpfully cataloguing that you aren’t even halfway through what he’s planned for you. You also start to filter through your responsibilities due in the coming days. It’s automatic at this point, a system you developed during school, when papers and projects and your social life all constantly contradicted each other. You’d come, at the hands of yourself or someone else, and your orgasm cleared brain began building a calendar. Nothing today, of course, you’d cleared your schedule and no one had questioned why. Most people wouldn’t question anyone taking off Valentines.
The “holiday” never really stuck out to you in the past, for one reason or another. Work, med school, family stuff, hell sometimes you just didn’t fucking feel like it. But this year, today, you can’t help yourself.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Simon.” You puff, keeping your eyes trained on the ceiling, letting your brain make patterns out of the popcorn ceiling.
“Ah,” he vocalizes, voice gruff. “Right.” he shifts in his bed, and you figure you’ve got about 30 seconds before he gives you the dusty combat boot. Your face burns with embarrassment, why the fuck did you say that? When did he ever give you even the slightest inclination he gave a shit about some overblown, capitalistic, aggrandized-
“Here.” A bag of jellybeans is unceremoniously plopped onto your bare chest, right between your tits.
“Where were you hiding these?” You gawp, struggling to string together a sentence as you examine the bag of colourful candies. It has a bow on it. You finger the pre-tied ribbon, stuck on with an adhesive pad.
“Under the bed.” He grunts, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose, like he’s fending off a headache, but you think he may just be embarrassed, if the pink tips of his ears are anything to go by.
“This is sweet.” You choke out, and you have to sink your teeth into your already swollen lower lip to stop from giggling hysterically. “Thank you, Simon.”
“Mng.” He makes the noise in his throat, forgoing the English language for the easy comfort of grunts, watching you tear the bag open and chew on a handful of the brightly coloured beans. All at once, like some kind of animal. The flavours don’t quite go together, strawberry and buttered popcorn and root beer. Others you can’t even begin to pin down. But you're too frazzled to eat them how you usually would, your favourites first, then making combinations with whatever’s left, guided by the suggestions on the back of the bag. And ultimately, it’s not altogether too unpleasant. It works, in a fucked up, saccharine sweet kind of way. Kind of like you and-
“Alright, put it away.” He rasps, turning over to cover you with his weight once more, sliding down to get started on orgasm three.
He plucks the bag out of your hands and drops it on the nightstand near you, devoid of any knick knacks or photographs, just a beat up 70s style alarm clock that acts as a pedestal for your candy.
“My beans!” You shout, trying in vain to secure the confection for further enjoyment. You give up your fruitless endeavour when Simon sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast on his way back down to your pussy.
“I didn’t get you anything.” You moan, pressing the cool palms of your hands to your overheated face, soothing the mix of embarrassment and giddiness stirring in your mind.
“I’ll live.” He grouses, bending your knees, holding your thighs up and together with both palms at the back of your knees. You can’t see his face. Have never seen the whole thing, but you’d bet all the jellybeans in the fucking world, that Simon Riley’s cheeks are pink.
the beans were soap’s idea for sure. poor guy’s definitely heard them fucking more than once. support city girls, reblog what u like. happy valentines.
#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#ghost x black reader#simon riley smut#ghost smut#simon ghost riley smut#kechiwrites#cod mw2 smut#cod fic#ghost x black!reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x fem reader
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[tw: dark content, gun play, russian roulette]
Thinking about the way you ride Ghost’s throbbing cock while the muzzle of his Glock pressed against the side of your temple. Your body bouncing up and down on his shaft as he pulls the trigger for the fourth time tonight, but nothing came out. The razor-thin line between life and death is blurred when your bodies intertwine with each other. If this is the night you die in his arms, then so be it.
Only he can end your life or bring you a new one.
#shaf brainrots#tw: dark content#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader smut#ghost x reader#ghost x fem reader#call of duty#cod mwii#ghost cod#call of duty smut#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod headcanons
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This is giving ghost x fem reader
#ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x fem reader#ghost x female reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x fem reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley#ghost#ghost imagine#simon riley imagine
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How would the Cod characters react if fem!reader have angel wings?
(Ghost ,Velikan, koing, and keegan )
a/n: sure!!!
Ghost:
-he would be stunned to say the least, enamored though. He thinks their so stunning in the sun or when water hits them just right
-loves to tease you about them too, he’s a sucker for your pretty feathers though so whenever you two are cuddling he’ll end up messing with your feathers softly
konig:
-loves to pick you up and toss you in the air so you can flutter your wings even when you can’t fly with them since he just finds it fun
-hates when your loosing feathers around the house though- they always get caught in his vacuum or stuck to his clothes or somehow in his gear? He’s been teased an awful lot over the feather that got stuck to his mask once
Velikan:
-adores your wings so much, honestly he thinks their so stunning on a girl as perfect to him as you. Although they did pose an issue the first time he tried to take you on his motorcycle since motorcycles aren’t built for big wings
-calls you his angel but only in teasing, since he thinks it’s a tad bit unoriginal
#requests open#cod mw2#cod fic#luci44_writing#cod headcanons#headcannons#cod hcs#konig x reader#konig x fem reader#konig x you#konig cod#velikan headcannons#velikan x reader#velikan cod#velikan#simon ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x fem reader#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost simon riley#x fem reader#x reader
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Hiii, i love your writing so much!! I just saw your requests were open and wanted to ask for a Ghost x fem!reader. Maybe she is sick and little and Simon has to take care of her. Of course only if you want to, no pressure. All your work is so adorable i just wanted to babble about it really (ˊᗜˋ) ♡
𝓢𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓓𝓐𝓨𝓢 ,
˚₊‧꒰ you’re sick. And off in fairy-land. Simon takes care of you. ꒱ ‧₊˚
BEFORE YOU PROCEED ! ‧₊˚ ┊ littlespace ! reader . fem ! reader. afab ! reader. caregiver ! Simon Riley . sickiesickie reader :c . da snifliez . reader is mentioned 2 be physically smaller den simon . not proof-read . OOC !!! simon . 1.3k words
˚₊‧꒰ 🍼 ꒱ ‧₊˚ A sniffle and a sneeze.
That is what Simon had woken up to.
There you lay, sniffly and hiccupy at the far side of the bed. You sneeze again into a tissue. A teddy bear placed on your dainty lap as you whimper meekly.
You want to be held, but you don’t want to either. Hot and icky from the fever you have just caught.
You want papa.
You turn your head around- and only then does he capture you into his strong, warm, papa-bear arms. You’re not sure if you’re grateful about the heat he radiates and produce, but you’re clearly happy to be in his arms.
He squishes you as if you were just a little teddy bear. Your cherub cheek lies on his chest as you sniffle again. “Papa..”
“I know, I know luv.” He grunts softly, murmuring soft praises of affections in your ear- so much alike of sweet serenades being hummed. He presses a firm kiss on your forehead, “You stay ‘ere, yeah? I’ll make you some-
Clearly, you did NOT want him to go. As he stood up whilst mumbling, your hand clings onto his sleeves with a soft sniffle. This elicits a soft hum. Big beady eyes stare up at him, lashes dew-dropped with tears from the discomfort you were feeling as of now.
His heart pangs. He hates seeing you like this.
“Wan’ papa.” You simply state, shaking your head stubbornly. Clingy girl.
“Luv, I have to..” He trails on when he sees that sad look on your face. Much alike of a baby puppy seeing her owner at the door, closing it in front of her face. He clears his throat, calloused fingers coming to rub off the dew-drops that stain your chubby cheeks. For your sake and his, he has to be firm.
You begin to tear up again. Argh. He can’t do it.
Then- without a word, he grabs your fluffy burberry blanket and throws it over his shoulder. And he picks you up with the utmost care in the world- as if you yourself was just a porcelain puppy. Your little legs wrap around his waist, face in his chest, with arms around his broad shoulders.
“Papa.” You babble sweetly, nuzzling your cheek on his chest.
“Mhm. That’s me, bug.” A faint smile on his cracked lips is evident.
He plops you on the sofa, before wrapping you up in the soft blanket like a bunny nestled into its burrow.
“Y’want chicken soup with yoghurt or bananas, luv?” He calls from the kitchen.
You sneeze, peaking your head from the blanket to watch papa, “Mmm.. Yoghurt.” You hear a can being easily opened, and a slow pour to the ceramic bowls. The ones with the floral print. Your favourite bowl.
“Strawberry or.. Vanilla?” He asks with a gentle grunt.
You blink the sleepiness out of your eye. “Wan’.. Strawberry.”
You hear a low hum, indicating that he heard your little voice from afar.
You feel dizzy from the fever that had come to bite you. You feel miserable without papa. You let out a weak whimper from the sofa, “Paaapaaaa..”
“I hear ya, luv. I’m comin’ soon.” With a small plastic spoon and a bowl of chicken soup warmed up from the microwave, he comes to you with a stride brooding yet loving. He beckons for you to sit up, and you do so with a bit of trouble. You weakly crawl to him.
“‘Aaah,’ baby.” He cheekily coos. A spoonful of yummy chicken soup near your mouth. It oozes with a scent so homey and comfy, you eagerly open your mouth and allow him to put the spoon in.
But.. You droop.
You can’t taste it. At all.
You try to stiffen the tears that almost drip from your waterlines. It coats your wispy lashes as you blink multiple times to get rid of the dewdrops.
He looks at you with a sad frown, “What’s wrong, bug?”
With your frustration and sadness from just taking one spoonful- he notices, “Ah.”
“Can’t taste?” He places the spoon in the bowl to rub your head affectionately.
“Nuh-uh,” You shake your head sadly.
“‘m sorry luv,” He grabs the spoon and gently places it in your mouth again- and again, again. Until the bowl was empty, “At least you know it’s warm, yeah?”
You brighten up just a bit, “..Uhuh.”
“Warm just like your blanket,” A soft squish to your cheek. This elicits a hoarse giggle from your throat- and a soft sneeze.
“Still want the yoghurt?”
You look down at your fuzzy socks, tiny tots wiggling from inside out of pure boredom. “Uhm.. mhm.”
“Good girl.” He brings the yoghurt to your mouth. You can’t taste it, but at least it makes your throat feel just a bit better.
“Tummy full now..” You babble sweetly.
“Mhm? That right, bug?” Standing up to go put the dishes in the sink to wash up quickly, he does. He throws the empty yoghurt tub in the bin with a quick step on the pedestal of the trash-can.
“Luv?” He calls out for you from the kitchen-area.
“?” You peak your head from the blanket again, staring at him with those sleepy baby eyes of yours.
“Y’know I love you..”
Suspicious arises in your tummy. “..Uhuh.”
You squint your beady eyes, a tiny cough escaping your throat.
“And I want what’s best f’ you..”
“…Oki.”
“And.. you want what’s best f’ yourself, don’t you?”
Smart little girl you were. “Nuh-uh.” You don’t want to drink pills.
“Bug..” He frowns, “Just one.”
“It’ll make you feel much better baby, I promise you.” He grunts, filling up a cup of water. He feels bad for doing this- but for your sake.
You can’t help the whine escaping your lips. It’s hard enough to swallow things whilst sick!!!
“No no noooo,” You shake your head as he strides closer with the medicine. You try to back away, even holding the blanket closer to you, but you could not get out of this. Not one bit.
“..Yes, yes, yes,” He plops the medicine in your mouth and- dunks the water as soon as he could.
You sniffle and force yourself to drink it up. You shake your head vigorously, low pigtails bobbling about.
“Bad papa, bad bad..” You rub the sleep in your eye yet again.
He squints his eyes at you, “Oi.”
You meekly look at him, “Sorry..”
He softens up a bit, before pulling your burrito-wrapped self near his frame.
“You’ll be okay soon, luv.” And he presses a soft kiss on your forehead. A squeeze from his arms made you feel much better, as you rest your little head on him yet again.
“My good girl, so strong.” He grumbles out. The praise makes your cheeks bloom like a flower. Your papa-bear. With his warmth, you can’t help but shyly cuddle into his toned-self. You feel just a bit better since you were in his arms, and you were fed a yummy meal. But alas, the everlasting feeling of sickness always comes at you from behind, and catches you off-guard. It makes you broody and crabby.
“Daddy?”
“Mmhm?” He hums gently, watching you play with his much larger fingers.
“My tummy feels dizzy,” You hiccup.
“Dizzy?” He questions, amused.
“Uhuh..” A tiny ‘achu’ escapes your lips. A chuckle rumbles out of his chest at your little sneeze, which causes a glare sent his way.
“Not funny, papa.”
“Mm.. Just a bit, bug.”
#ghost x fem! reader#ghost x little you#ghost caregiver#ghost x fem! you#ghost x reader#cod x fem! reader#cod x fem reader#ghost x fem reader#ghost x you#sfw littlespace#sfw agere#sfw little blog
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Echo Chambers Inside A Neighborhood (ch.4)
read ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.5
tag list: @junosbugs @lovelyladymayyy @specialagentmonkey @elle-writes-things @anotherrickinthewall
“Likin’ ya new place, L.t.?” Soap’s voice broke through the silence in Ghost’s office. Piles of papers stood high on his desk and his laptop was open to the notes from the most recent mission briefing. He was trying to focus on his work, knowing he’d have to go back out in a couple hours to continue training the new sergeants. But memories from last night followed him around like a lost puppy, begging for his attention.
“It was the first and last time I set foot in that store,” you said through fits of silent laughter, the words barely formulating on your tongue. Ghost couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way your face lit up with your laughter. He stared, memorizing the line of your plump lips, the gentle curvature of your nose, the way your lashes fell against your cheek when you closed your eyes.
The sound of amusement that left you was the sweetest damn song he’d ever heard, and he yearned to be the reason you made it.
“It’s fine,” Ghost said nonchalantly, not looking away from his laptop. It was more than fine, but he’d be damned if admitted that to the sergeant.
Soap remained standing at the door, his body leaning against the frame as he crossed his arms across his chest. Ghost could feel Soap’s eyes on him, and he shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.
“What?” Ghost snapped after thirty-seconds of silence, finally moving his gaze for a brief second over to the man standing at his doorway.
“Nothin’,” Soap shrugged. “Been awfully quite the las’ couple a days, that’s it.”
“Got nothing to talk about,” Ghost retaliated.
“Not even the beautiful lass you’re livin’ with?” Ghost’s eyes zoned in on Soap, a silent question as to how he knew what you looked like. “Got curious. Sam showed me a picture.”
“It’s none of your business, Sergeant,” Ghost clipped, returning his focus to the computer screen. He tried comprehending the words in front of him but just ended up reading the same sentence over and over again.
Soap, nosy as he was, walked further into the room and plopped himself onto the chair in front of Ghost’s desk.
“She’s a stunner, L.t.,” Soap interrupted.
A vein on Ghost’s forehead ticked, though Soap wasn’t able to see it. He knew you were pretty, but why was Soap so interested?
“Why the sudden interest?” Ghost questioned, a sliver of possession running down his spine. It was wholly unnecessary and completely out of the blue, but there was no point questioning it. Ghost had been feeling unwarranted feelings ever since the first time he talked to you over the phone.
“No reason.” Another shrug from the sergeant. “I gave yoo the number, is all. Feels like my responsibility if something goes wrong.”
Ghost scoffed. “I’m a grown man, Johnny. I can take care of myself.”
“No doubt,” Soap smiled. “So…is she nice?”
“She’s none of your business,” Ghost deadpanned. He tried hiding his annoyance, though he didn’t know if he was successful.
Soap chuckled, shaking his head slightly. He wasn’t gonna get anything out of him.
“Tight-lipped as ever,” the sergeant jested. “But that’s not what I came in ‘ere for.”
“Oh?” Ghost’s ears perked up.
“There’s trouble again. Insurgents in Al Mazrah.” Soap’s expression turned serious, all sentiments back to business. “Price wants a word.”
---
“But I thought we got all the weapon holds there,” Gaz asked, a quizzical look towards the Captain.
“I thought so, too,” Price said, hands on his hips as he paced back and forth. “But this one is underground. Practically impossible to sniff out.”
“Then how’d you find it?” Soap spoke up from where he was seated.
“We noticed multiple caravans, all taking different routes, end up at the same location deep within the desert.” All eyes in the room turned to the laptop from which Laswell spoke. Her stoic face betrayed no signs of urgency, but the tension in the room said otherwise. “Had our drones scout the area. Turns out there’s a bunker within the oasis.”
“Bloody hell,” Ghost murmured under his breath. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that the trouble with Hassan was over just because they killed him, but he was disappointed that they’d left such an important loose end undiscovered for so long.
“How the hell did we miss this?” Gaz stated, putting everyone’s unspoken thoughts to words.
“It’s easy to miss things like this. But that’s not what’s important right now.” Price grabbed the map sitting next to the laptop and spread it open on the table for the rest of the crew to see. “Dealing with the insurgents here…” he circled ‘Al Mazrah’. “And getting hold of the weapons bunker here,” he indicated to an obscure position somewhere in the desert next to the city. “These are our priorities.”
The next couple of hours were spent determining the plan of attack. Ghost and Soap were to head the team that would be responsible for dealing with the insurgents in the city, while Price and Gaz would attack the weapons hold.
And by morning, they were exiting the aircraft into humid, sand-filled air.
---
It’d been six days since Ghost had left for work, seven since the night of the dinner. You would replay bits and pieces of the night over again in your head, smiling at the memory of shared laughs and dry jokes.
He barely revealed anything about himself, letting out grunts or straight up not answering when you asked personal questions. You got the hint, realizing that the man valued his privacy more than anything, so you ended up regaling him with stories of your own life.
You had nothing to hide, but more than that, you didn’t feel the need to hide from Ghost.
It was nice to have someone who listened, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed whenever you were met with silence about his own past. Obviously, it’s not like you wanted him to tell you his deepest, darkest secrets. But maybe you were starting to think of him as a friend, and maybe it would be nice to know more about him besides the fact that he was in the military.
“Hi sweetheart,” Belinda said as you entered the shelter, shaking the snow off your boots. “How’ve you been?” The old lady stepped out from behind the counter and gave you a hug, rubbing a soothing hand on your back. You hugged her back, allowing yourself to take a little bit of comfort from her.
“I’m okay. I think,” you said, pulling away from the embrace and stuffing your hands in the pockets of your coat.
“You think?” Belinda shook her head as if that was unacceptable. “How come? That boy Ethan up to something again?”
You sighed, realizing you hadn’t visited the shelter since you and Ethan had broken up, so Belinda was none the wiser.
“Actually,” you began. “We’re not together anymore.” The words came with no feeling, as if you were telling the woman you had oatmeal for breakfast, and not that you’d ended things with your boyfriend of three years.
“What?” Belinda sat down on the wicker chair next to the door, patting the one next to her. You complied and sat down too. “What happened?”
You contemplated what to say. On the one hand, you could be honest and tell her Ethan had cheated. But on the other, that wasn’t a detail you were in the mood to hash out.
So you shrugged, averting your eyes from Belinda. “He was a jerk.”
“Oh hon.” The woman took your hand, running a gentle finger across the back of it. “It’s good you realized he wasn’t worth your time. Better single than raising a man-child.”
You chuckled, thinking to yourself that those words couldn’t be any truer.
“You wanna head back? We had a new litter of kittens dropped off here a week ago if you want to see them,” Belinda said.
“Of course I wanna see them.”
You were out of your chair and at the back of the shelter in a matter of minutes, petting the older cats you had already met and letting the new ones get accustomed to you. As you played with the little fur balls, a certain one caught your eye; sleek, black fur covering the top of its head while the rest was white as snow.
You gently took the cat into your arms, noticing how quiet and patient it was. Reminded you of a certain someone.
“That’s Maisie,” Belinda said as she walked past the curtains, a large bag of cat food in her arms.
You looked at Maisie, seeing her calmly watching you. “Hi Maisie. It’s nice to meet you,” you whispered. The cat raised a paw towards you, curiosity shining in her eyes. You brought your face closer as her paw grazed over your nose, then your cheek.
“She likes you.” Belinda was at the corner of the room, rationing out portions of cat food into bowls.
“Well, I think I like her too.”
“She’s all yours if you want her,” the older lady raised an eyebrow in question, a mischevious smirk on her face.
You looked back down at Maisie, trying to map out the pros and cons of adopting a cat right now.
“Oh, don’t think about it too much,” Belinda scolded. She left her spot and walked over to where you were seated on the floor next to the play pen. “She’ll be great company. Might even help you through your breakup.”
You didn’t tell her that you were very much over your cheating ex-boyfriend. But would it really hurt to have someone to come home to at the end of the day?
#simon riley#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare 2#call of duty modern warfare 2#call of duty#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x fem reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x fem reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x fem reader#simon riley x reader fluff#simon ghost riley x reader fluff#modern warfare 2#cod#mw2#x female reader#x fem reader#fluff#forced proximity#roommates#slow burn
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Happy Ending | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Note: This has been ghosting around in my head for some time now because of the song "Wallpaper" by Megan Cromwell. I noticed that whenever I don't have the pressure of a request in the back of my head for a story it's much easier to write. That's why I wrote this rather easily and quickly. I just wanted to post something again lol. So yeah, have some good ol' super dramatic angst. I'll be more active again hopefully.
Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)
Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Unrequited Love, Mentions of NSFW Stuff, Trauma, Reader has some Issues
Summary: Ghost wants a happy ending but not with you.
Word Count: ~2k
If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)
Masterlist
Call sign: Vigil
"We can't do this anymore."
You had known from the start that sleeping with him was a bad idea.
Generally, people advise you against sleeping with a co-worker. Because it makes things complicated. Even more complicated when you're both in the military.
Because technically you’re not allowed to fuck, your actions could be clouded by emotions, potentially risking not only your but the lives of your fellow operators as well. But that little clause in your contract was printed in that tiny font, and so you decided to ignore it.
It didn’t stop you from getting involved with your lieutenant. You were never a big fan of rules after all. Your rank as a sergeant after so many years of service in the military said enough about that.
But at the start, you truly believed that a physical relationship with him wouldn't cause trouble to you or anyone else.
You thought you had it under control. At least in the beginning.
Yes, you had been attracted to him since your first meeting when you had signed your contract with Taskforce 141. Mysterious men were your thing, and he embodied such a man with his skull mask.
So yeah, you did allow yourself to daydream about him, and have some dirty thoughts every once in a while. It wasn’t like you were the only one.
You were attracted to him and you knew he was attracted to you. It was mutual and actually pretty obvious.
You could feel his searing gaze on you just a few days after you had joined the taskforce; the way his eyes trailed up and down your body. The looks he gave you were charged with want.
But attraction doesn't necessarily lead to a romantic relationship, right?
He was a good-looking man in your opinion; tall, rugged, buff, with muscles and fat in the right places, just the way you liked it.
His face couldn't be considered conveniently attractive yet that made it so much better for you. The arch in his brows, the dark eyebags, the scars on his cheeks, his cheekbones. He was your type. And his rough appearance fuelled the fire in your lower stomach and your imagination.
What was the harm in joining him in the sheets and having a bit of fun? It wasn't like you loved him.
That’s what you had asked yourself.
It was much better to get rid of your pent-up frustration with him instead of a toy or a rare one-night stand when you were off-duty. And damn, was he good in bed.
Rough, fast-paced, keen to try out every possible position, and not shy of pleasing you. You could've expected it. He was a man who wasn't afraid to get down and dirty. Dirt, blood, sweat, and other fluids... It didn't matter.
Short summary: It was pure ecstasy every time.
You two had lots of fun together in lots of different positions and locations, and that was all it was. Just some fun.
No strings attached, as you both declared at the start. Just fuckbuddies.
"I'm not a relationship kind of guy, Y/N" he had told you after you had spent your first time together.
You had snorted because shit, you weren't either. Both of you were too broken and bruised by the baggage of your pasts. Your traumas would probably weigh you both down in the long run. So you were fine with the line he had drawn between you.
It was okay. No emotions, no obligations, no lovey-dovey shit, just a means to an end.
Just a meeting in your room after a mission, a phone call on your days off, then a quick meet-up in a hotel. Just pleasure. Not love.
Until it wasn't just that anymore.
You two had settled into a routine where he would join you in your room late every other night.
After you had pleasured each other enough, he would leave soon after, and somehow - with time, you began to miss the warmth next to you on your bed.
The feeling came slowly creeping, and it took you by surprise.
You never asked him to stay; you didn't dare cross the line. To ask for a bit more affection. But you wished.
That he held you just a bit closer during the act. That he remained next to you just for a few more minutes after it. That he kissed your scars, your lips. That he touched you as if you were something, someone precious to him. Someone important.
Sure, you liked it when he treated you like an unbreakable object when his grip left bruises on your body - in a way, they satisfied your need for more. They marked you as his. But just for once, you wanted to be treasured by him. To feel that you meant something more to him.
You didn't know when your feelings for him had turned into a fluttering mess in your chest. He wasn't just a means to an end anymore. You valued him. Not just as a soldier who had your back. Not just as a friend. But as a man, a partner. A man you wanted close to you. For the rest of your life. No matter how long that would be.
Because Simon had done something no one else had been able to do before.
He made you wish. For a future. A future with him.
He made you wish to be better, to be a little less broken. To pick up the pieces that had once made you whole. You wanted to be better. A better version of yourself. For him. To have a chance to be truly happy. To get that fairy tale life others dream about – you once had dreamed about when you were younger, your shoulders lighter.
His attention made you excel, it made you stronger, faster, harder. You were just better when he was around. A better soldier, a better woman, a happier person.
And you thought, no, believed that he understood that. That he helped you to be better. That you needed him. Not just in your bed, but by your side. As your other half.
You both were people of few words, so you thought that through your actions, your eagerness during missions, and your gentle touches during your time together, you conveyed all these feelings. That he got it, saw how you felt about him.
But you never spelled it out. Never said; I've come to love you.
Just let these feelings simmer under your heart, hoping that one day he'd get what you felt for him.
"We can't do this anymore, Vigil."
You'd love to say that it came as a surprise when he, one day, called you to meet up and told you these words.
But you knew subconsciously. Felt it. Long before he actually said the words, they were coming.
His calls had been less frequent, his visits rarer, and to your confusion, his eyes began to look different whenever you saw him. They looked clearer, and happier.
Only after you saw him at the party after your successful operation in Chicago did you understand. He did look happier.
But not because of you.
And only then did you realize that your brain had played a trick on you. You were so consumed by your feelings for him that you didn't realize how big the rift between you two had gotten.
He laughed.
Simon Riley laughed heartily for the first time since you knew him. Not just one of his usual chuckles that he reserved for your or Soap's jokes.
No, true deep laughter that came from deep within his chest.
And all because of a joke that the woman next to him had told him.
You didn't know her; you had never even seen her face before. She was a complete stranger to you, and yet Ghost rested a hand on her hip as if she belonged to him. As if she was his fucking girlfriend.
Soap looked at you, then who you were staring at.
"That's Ghost's new lass, I heard. Can't believe that guy found someone before us, eh? Surprised me too, I tell ya."
His words were like poison, and you tasted bile in your mouth. So much made sense to you now.
"Why not? I thought you liked it?! I enjoy it every time."
"That's not relevant anymore. I'm just telling you, Y/N. This thing is done. I won't come here anymore."
"But-"
"Let's just forget this happened, alright?"
"...."
"Okay."
You hadn't even been able to argue. Or tell him your feelings.
After all, you were the one who said you could never be in a relationship with him or fall in love with him. It was pathetic to get back on your words and admit it in front of him.
So you just shut your mouth and accepted his words for the time being.
A tiny voice in your head whispered that you could tell him your feelings later when he calmed down a bit. When he started to miss you.
You knew the whole situation with Hassan was getting to him and the others, so you cut him some slack. You thought he would change his mind. Believed it. Blindly.
But now, here you were. Looking like a fool. Feeling like one. Being one.
And the thing was, you couldn't even say anything to him.
He was the one who made you happy. Who made you want to be better. Less traumatized, more whole.
You could see in his eyes that she was that to him. Not you.
So, what right did you have to intervene?
You wanted him to be happy, after all.
How could you deny him that? You both had gone through so much.
She seemed to be the complete opposite of you. She basically glowed in the room, her smile radiant, and her aura was light as if the world had blessed her to never know hardship.
Her frame was soft, and her skin unblemished, untainted by the cruelty and darkness that existed in the world.
You couldn't help but compare yourself to her.
Your cracks, the marks of your trauma, made themselves known through various scars on your body. Your hands were rough, covered with old blisters; so unlike hers, and you were all jagged and sharp edges, while she looked so cute and bubbly.
You could see her appeal, and it hurt to think that way, but in another world, in different circumstances, you could see her as your potential friend. She just had the appearance and aura of someone who people gravitated toward. A soothing soul.
In that sense, you could understand Ghost. Why he searched her side. But you fucking hated it.
As lovely as she seemed, right now in this bar; you couldn't help but despise her.
She took him from you.
A voice whispered in your head. The ugliness of that thought made you want to throw up, because didn't it prove that you weren't completely right in the head?
Ghost wasn't your property. He had his own free will, and just because she appeared didn't mean she stole him away.
After all, he never belonged to you anyway.
This was probably why Ghost didn't chose you, you thought to yourself. Your ugly jealousy and possessiveness were rearing their heads.
I wouldn't choose myself either.
You felt like crying, but you couldn't even do that.
You hadn't cried for years now, and although the pain in your heart was worse than any of the bullet wounds you had received during your career, not a single tear welled up in your eyes.
You were truly broken. And the man who could fix you wasn't at your side. He would never be.
You looked at the two of them once more. An ugly thing clawed at your chest, begging to get out. Your vision turned red. You clenched your fists.
You had to get out of here. Now.
"You okay, Vigil?" Soap asked next to you, noticing that you seemed a bit off.
"Yeah. I just- think I didn't turn my stove off. I got to go."
You mumbled before you turned around and hurried to the exit of the bar. Soap tried to protest, but you were out the door before he could even finish his sentence:
"But you just arrived- Damn... off she goes."
He sighed and looked towards that woman and Ghost. They made eye contact. As if Simon was already looking at him. Or you.
#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare ii#modern warfare II#modern warfare 2022#simon riley#simon riley x fem reader#x fem reader#ghost x fem reader#ghost x female reader#ghost#soap#john soap mctavish#simon ghost riley#soldier reader#141!reader#special forces reader#fem reader#fanficsforheartandsouls
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'S'
Ghost x Fem Reader
Summary: Your mystery lover 'S' has finally returned and is on his way over. You prepare for his arrival, ready to meet his every need, gladly catering to each of his unique desires.
Tags/Warnings: Explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, light voyeurism, mutual masturbation, PiV sex, slight breeding kink if you squint, dirty talk as foreplay, lil bit of edging - Ghost likes to edge himself to save it all up for reader, mention of oral sex- male and female receiving, light Dom/sub dynamic- Ghost likes it a certain way & reader submits to his every whim, allusions to an innocence kink, no Y/N
(A/N: After reading the NSFW Ghost HCs one of mutuals posted, I mentioned maybe writing a fic for them, so this is it. It's debauched, little to no plot, just a filthy one-shot to weave all her HCs together. Lots of dirty talk. Sorry, not sorry. Enjoy the smut.
You can check out Rhea's HCs here .
@luminousbeings-crudematter I didn't forget. This one's for you, sweets.
Word Count: 3540
You're putting away groceries when your cell phone dings an alert. You scoff, leaving the fridge door standing open, and turn back to the counter with a bag of grapefruit dangling from your hand, sliding the phone closer to read the screen.
'S sent you a message.'
A tingle starts at the base of your skull that tightens your scalp and lifts the hairs at the nape of your neck. You huff out a shaky breath and open the app with a trembling finger to read his text.
[S]: omw. eta 30m. b ready
You inhale slow and deep. He's back. He's home. He's on his way. He'll be there in thirty minutes… and he wants you to be ready to greet him.
You scramble to get the rest of the groceries put away and hurry to your bedroom, stripping clothes as you go. A quick shower, like the fastest you've ever taken, and then you're in your closet, looking for that one white sundress with the tiny orange and yellow flowers in the print. It's his favorite. He's never said it, but he always takes his time removing it, toying with the straps, rubbing the eyelet trim between his fingers.
You utter a quiet, "Yes!" when you find it.
Skip the bra. The straps don't look right with the dress anyway, but the panties…
Which pair should you choose?
You hold up thongs and high-waist French cuts and boy shorts in multiple colors and textures. No. No. No… but then you smile when you pull out a pair of white cotton bikini panties with the tiniest pink satin rose sewed onto the stretch-lace waistline. He loves the innocent look, the virginal white. You slide them on and then shimmy the dress over your head, contorting your arms to work the zipper up the back.
You feel a little frantic, knowing he is just minutes away.
Now what? you ask yourself, and somehow your brain supplies the answer.
The lotion. God, how could you forget the lotion?
He likes to watch you put on lotion; says he loves how it makes your skin feel like silk. You grab the bottle from the bathroom and set it on your little vanity table, then arrange yourself on its cushioned stool just so. You check the time on your cell, then put it on silent and wait, heart pounding in your chest.
'S' has his preferences, some run-of-the-mill, others more unique in taste. The mask he always wears took a little getting used to, and his refusal to share his name. He could have lied, given you a false name, but he didn't. He only gave you an initial - 'S', but you are confident it actually is his real initial. Say what you want about the strangeness of your relationship, but at least it's honest, which is more than most can say about their own relationships.
You hear the muffled jangle of keys and the squeak of hinges as your front door opens, then silence. For such a big man, he moves about with such eerily quiet steps, but you can sense his presence in the other room. He'll take off his boots and leave them by the door before he joins you. He never walks around your flat with shoes on; he thinks it's disrespectful to track up your floors. You cross your legs when you hear the creak of a floorboard and begin rubbing lotion into your calf.
You can feel when he stops at your door to stare. The jamb gives a soft pop when he leans a shoulder against it, but you don't look up, giving him time to watch as long as he wants. Eventually, there's a sigh from the doorway and you finally glance up at him, a little smile on your face. "Hey."
His mahogany eyes are half-lidded, lazy, but their gaze is avid as they follow the motion of your hand. "'Ello, love. Miss me?"
The rough gravel of his voice in that familiar Manc accent settles along your spine, sinks into the marrow of your bones, both a thrill and a comfort to hear. You hum at the sound, smile widening. "Always."
He watches you a moment longer then comes to sit on the bed across from you, eyes still locked on the hand smoothing lotion over your skin. "Just get out of the shower?"
"Mm-hm." You tug the hem of the skirt up higher to reach your thigh. A tingle of anticipation sparks to life deep in your core and radiates a warmth through your pelvis.
He'll start talking now, you think, telling you everything he thought about while he was away.
He pulls the hem of his shirt out of his pants, begins to undo the buttons down the front, his movements casual, leisurely. He's in no hurry. "Missed the smell of that shampoo ya use. Always makes my cock hard when I get a whiff of it."
…and here we go.
You try not to squirm as you recross your legs to lotion up the other one. "Yeah?" you murmur, keeping your voice low and soft. "The herbal one with lemongrass?"
"Yeah. Tha's the one." He breathes out a heavy breath and reaches down to adjust the bulge in his pants, giving it a little squeeze before releasing it. "Like t'think about it when I fuck my fist in the shower."
You feel that heady drop of arousal in your lower belly as you let a little smirk play around your lips. "Is that all you think about while you're fucking your hand?" you goad.
He huffs out a grating chuckle. "'Course it's not, love. It gets me goin', but I usually think about yer cunt to get off. How wet ya get for me. How tight ya squeeze me when I fuck ya good an' deep. What ya feel like when ya cum. The thought of it's got me leakin' right now." He reaches down to grip himself, eyes meeting yours. "Want t'see?"
You peer at him through lowered lashes, biting your lip to hide your coy grin. "Yeah. I'd like that."
He removes his shirt, tosses it to the foot of the bed, then reaches for his belt. He's patient, methodical as he strips it from the loops and lays it aside, then undoes his pants. He pulls his cock out over his underwear, cupping his balls in one hand while he strokes his length with the other. He swipes his thumb over the tip, gathers the precum. "See how much I've missed ya?" He holds it up for you to see. "Want a taste, sweetheart?"
You nod, leaning forward, stretching your torso out to meet him. He rubs his thumb over your parted lips before slipping it between them, letting you suck and tongue at his thumb before pulling it back, dragging it down your bottom lip. "Thought about this mouth, too," he murmurs, his deep rumble sinful and low. "I almost like fuckin' it as much as yer sweet lil cunt. Like how ya use yer tongue on me, how ya swallow 'round my cock. Feels so fuckin' good, makes my balls draw up so bloody tight. Nothin' in the world like it."
You preen at the praise and your channel clenches, slick oozing into the already damp cotton of your panties. You love this game, but it's torture, listening to him talk about all the things he imagines you doing to him, all the things he wants to do to you. It's a kind of foreplay you've never experienced with anyone else, at least not to the extent that he takes it.
Sure, you've been with 'talkers' in bed before, but their words were always said in the heat of the moment, gasped out and desperate. He does all his talking before the main event, his words even and deliberate, building up the anticipation as he describes his debauched thoughts in detail. It leaves you dripping before he ever touches you.
"Had a dream about ya," he says, giving his cock a languid stroke. "You were on the bed, arse up in the air, and I'm just poundin' ya, an' yer makin' those fuckin' noises that make my gut twist. I swear I could feel how wet ya were, how it felt slidin' in an' out of ya. Woke up to find I'd made a bloody mess o' m'self," he laughed, short and husky. "Bet ya like that, don't ya, lovie? Do ya like that ya make me cum in my sleep like some horny fuckin' kid?"
You smirk at him, nod. "Yeah. I do." You can't take your eyes off his stroking hand, how it looks wrapped around his thick length. You rub your thighs together for a little friction. Your clit is throbbing so hard right now.
He grunts. "'S my fault. Gave it a wank before I fell asleep, ya know, just a few tugs while I was thinkin' 'bout ya. Pissed me off, losin' my load that close to comin' home. Ya know I like to save it all up for ya, give it to ya proper, fill up that sweet lil cunny of yers."
You let your knees fall apart, feel the skirt drape between your thighs as you press your fingers to your clit through the cotton, too turned on to resist the urge to touch yourself. Your eyes flutter closed with a breathy sigh. You lick your lips. "I don't have that kind of strength," you confess. "If I think about you, how good you fuck me, it always makes me cum. I can't stop myself."
You hear his low groan and slit your eyes open, see the way his head is thrown back, resting his weight on one arm while he continues to stroke his cock. You want to push him, so you continue to talk, watching him.
"I think about what your tongue feels like when you lick my pussy. God... h-how good it feels when you fuck me with it or suck my clit. Love how you look with my cum on your lips, how it tastes when you kiss me." Your voice has gone high, edging into a whine.
"Fuc-kin' hell…" he breathes out. His hand torques down on the base of his cock. He's reached his limit. Anymore and his cum will be arcing through the air to splatter on the floorboards between you, and he'll be damned if he's losing another load like that, not when you're this close.
He stares at you as he grips his cock, watches your hand circling in the folds of your skirt. "C'mere, love," he rasps out. "Come stand in front of me."
You're on your feet in an instant, teetering a bit before he reaches out to steady you. He draws you closer to stand between his knees, hands skimming down from your waist and over your hips, fingers trailing along the skirt until he reaches the hem. "Want me to touch ya, love?"
You nod, swallowing down the spit that's lodged at the back of your throat. "God, please touch me," you sigh out in a rush, resting your hands on his bare shoulders to steady yourself.
His eyes crinkle and you know he's smiling beneath the cloth mask, pleased by your words, the needy way you said them. "'S alright, sweetheart. Ya know I've got ya. Spread those pretty legs for me a lil, yeah?"
You widen your stance, a shiver racking your body as he places his fingers feather-light on your calves and then glides them up beneath the hem of your dress, sliding past your knees to skim over the smooth skin of your outer thighs. He doesn't stop until he reaches your hips, thumbs caressing your hips bones through the cotton panties. He slips them underneath the elastic that circles your thighs, calloused pads pressing lightly into the meat of your mons. His thumbs meet right above your clit, and your mouth falls open as you prepare for that first touch.
It's euphoric.
The pad of one thumb grazes over the swollen nub; it's a light touch, but slow in execution. He slides his thumb over it again, up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he increases the pressure. When he finally begins to rub circles into your clit, your knees threaten to give out and a pool of slick puddles in the crotch of your panties. "Oh, my god…"
He's watching you with rapt attention, eyes zeroed in on your face. His chest is visibly rising and falling with his heavy breaths now, his voice strained as he rumbles out, "Take yer knickers off for me, sweetheart. Do it nice an' slow."
You blink your eyes open and nod, stepping back. You hitch the skirt up and hook your thumbs into the sides of your panties. He leans back for a better view, his cock flexing against his lower abdomen when he sees you pull the white cotton down from between your thighs. You lower them slow, just like he asked, letting them go when they go past your knees.
"Look so fuckin' pretty when ya do that," he murmurs, sitting up again. He grazes a hand over the front of your skirt, voice gone to gravel when he tells you, "Hand me yer knickers and hold up that skirt, love. Want t'see that pretty lil cunny. I've missed it."
It feels so obscene to be holding up your dress for a man to stare at your naked pussy. He' still stroking his cock, your damp panties clutched in the other hand, and he's pressing them against the mask covering his nose. You can hear him taking deep breaths, filling his sinuses with your musk, low moans escaping when he exhales. Eventually, he brings his hand down, and the panties disappear into the front pocket of his jeans. You won't see those panties again, you know, so you make a mental note to buy more just like them.
"Yer so beautiful," he sighs out, pulling you closer to press his face into your stomach. He breathes you in, muttering into the folds of your skirt. "Pull up the mask, sweetheart, like I showed ya."
Your trembling hands slide from his shoulders to his neck, cool fingers curling beneath the fabric, giving him a moment to adjust to the sensation before you slowly begin to peel it up. You stop when you reach his nose, leaving the lower half of his face exposed. You feel a shiver quake through his form and he groans.
His hands slide up to knead at your breasts through your dress, rolling and pinching your nipples until they're hard and tight beneath the fabric. He slides a hand behind your back and pulls down the zipper, then hooks his fingers into the straps, dragging them down your shoulders. As soon as your breasts are exposed, he's yanking you forward, hitching your legs up around his hips as he wraps an arm around your waist. His hand comes up to cup your breast, fingers indenting the flesh as he dips his head to suck the nipple into his mouth. He moans as he rolls his tongue over it, then grunts when you grind against his cock.
He releases your nipple and grinds up into you with a filthy grunt before he captures the other nipple between his lips, eyes locked with yours as he catches the bud between his teeth and worries it. You're whimpering, pressing your chest into his face, throwing your head back with a gasping, "Hah!" as he draws in as much of your breast as he can fit into his mouth. He's ravenous with them, biting and marking, staking his claim.
You're mindlessly grinding against each other now, his cock gliding through your slick heat, making the most obscene wet sounds. You feel his hand slip from around your waist and burrow underneath your gathered skirt to grip your ass, and then you're being flipped over, landing on your back with an 'oof!' as he settles his weight against you.
He only pauses long enough to push his pants down past his hips and then he's notching the head of his cock at your pulsing entrance and pressing forward, a guttural groan vibrating through his chest as he sinks into you. He doesn't stop until the head of his cock bumps against the sensitive barrier of your cervix, and then he holds himself there, panting through gritted teeth.
You know he won't move until he'd regained some control. He'll wait til he feels the muscles in your channel relax, the spasms easing into pulsing undulations that milk at his cock. His eyes slide halfway open and lock with yours as he begins to move inside you, bracing his weight on his arms so he can hover over you, so he can watch your face as he fucks you. You know he won't speak again; he can't. It renders him as speechless as it does you, catching you both up in the heady sensation of being joined after so long.
All of his focus is on you now, intent on making you cum for him. He won't be satisfied until your clenching around him, just a shaking wet mess lying beneath him. He fucks you slow and deep, drinking in every detail of your face as your jaw goes slack and your eyes haze over. Your breathy pants morph into moans when he begins to thrust harder, snapping his hips, clapping his balls against your ass in a steady tattoo. You see his eyes roll back, his lids slide shut, but he blinks them open with a grunt, determined not to miss a moment of your pleasure. It gets him off to know he makes you feel so good.
He hits that spot that only he can find, a pleasure-pain that vibrates deep in your core and radiates out to thrum through your clit. Tears begin to swim in your eyes and thoughts fade into the background. Nothing else exists except that building pressure in the cradle of your pelvis, each thrust he delivers threatening to burst the dam holding it back. Your channel flutters, begins to spasm, and his low moan becomes a choked whine when your walls clamp down.
Your heels dig into his ass, your fingers raking down his back, and he growls through his clenched teeth. Your neck arches as you tilt your chin up to the ceiling, body tense as a wire and vibrating around him as you teeter on the very edge of orgasm. One more hard thrust sends you over, and you inhale a sobbing breath as the world melts around you.
It's a rush of bliss, a cascade of liquid heat that flows like warm, sticky honey throughout your lower body. It comes in waves that pulse in time with the throb in your clit. You can feel your cum flow over and around his cock, hear the squelch of liquid as he continues to rail into you with unhinged pleasure. With one final thrust he buries himself balls deep and cums, growling as he empties himself inside your spasming walls. He finally allows his eyes to roll shut, chin lowered to his chest as he gives a few more sloppy thrusts, wanting to push his seed deep into your pulsing core.
With your feet still hooked over the backs of his thighs, your legs quake around him as you shudder. He lowers himself to an elbow, brings his other arm back to run a soothing hand over your trembling thigh, soothing you as you ride out your orgasm. His mouth descends to cover yours, his tongue snaking out to tangle with yours in a wet, sensual kiss.
He only releases his claim on your mouth when he feels you go slack beneath him, completely spent and utterly wrecked. Wrapping his arms around you, he drags your limp form further up the bed until your head is resting on the pillows, your body sinking into the mattress. He stretches out beside you and gathers you against him, his arm around your waist pulling you snug against his side. His lips brush over your temple as he sighs, relaxed and sated for the first time in months.
"Missed you," you murmur into his chest, sliding an arm around his waist and a leg over his thigh. "Stay with me tonight?" you ask, like you always do.
"Maybe," he lies, but he holds you close, and you feel his hands grip you in remorse. If he could, he would stay. You know he would. "Jus' sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."
You close your eyes and pretend it's the truth.
#simon ghost riley x fem reader#cod ghost x fem reader#ghost x fem reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#cod ghost smut#ghost smut#cod smut#gift fic#showing some mutual love
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Tangled Bedsheets
p/s/s—preferred streaming service/site; Netflix, Youtube, Hulu, etc
Fem reader
Ghost was simply trying to help. Not aware that he was poking at some of y/n’s previous trauma. She hadn’t realized how difficult it’d be to get used to sharing her space with someone else. While wary, she agreed to helping Simon make the bed. A task that was basically automatic for Ghost, an act he passed by quickly without any embellishments. Now he had to deal with fluffy blankets and throw pillows. ‘Any good shows on p/s/s?’ He asked as he gently took the mattress cover from y/n’s hands.
Mattress sheet—fitted sheet—blanket. Just like the first, he kept taking the items, assuming that they’d created an assembly line of sorts. But Ghost noticed, it was like day and night. They’d never had problems completing chores together. Dinner—laundry—gathering the trash. All of it went without a hitch, hell, most of the time there’d be conversation or music flowing through the halls. Usually her favorite music artist or genre, playing whatever song was stuck in her head at least three times. The rare times he’ll let himself goof off and get off task because he felt that comfortable, that safe. But this, it was as if he was interacting with a mirrored version of himself. The shortness of her responses, she sounded so snippy. So unlike herself. Slowly piecing together that she was stuck inside her mind when he noticed the glazed over look in her eyes.
Grabbing her hands, Ghost decided the task could take a rain check. That they needed to pause as Simon needed to know what she was thinking. Sitting down on the bed sans decorations, ‘Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?’ Wiping away the tears. Ghost hated how red her eyes were, how irritated they were. ‘I don’t know how to say it without sounding like—it’s not important.’
‘That’s okay, I’m listening. If it’s bothering you this badly, then it’s obviously important.’ Removing his balaclava as an attempt to calm her nerves. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the time to be intimidating. She needed Simon, not Ghost. Her roommate, not the calculated lieutenant.
‘When I was a kid, my parents would always yell at me when it came to my room. Hell, my dad would say it looks like a bomb went off,’ Y/n reached for her childhood stuffie, hugging it close to her chest. ‘my mom once made me stay up until the bed was made. It wasn’t that I was refusing to, I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to put a fitted sheet on and whenever I asked, she’d do it for me.’ While Simon didn’t exactly comprehend it all, he sympathized. While it truly seemed like nothing, there’s things that one simply never forgets. No matter how hard they tried. No matter how fast they ran and he knew that well. ‘I thought I could let you help, I did. But I got frustrated and then bottle it all up.’ Hyper-independence, it was a trait he’d seen in her before.
‘That’s okay, would it do good if I stepped out and let you finish this on your own?’ Mirroring the way y/n comforted him. ‘I think so, yea.’ Leaving the room, Simon decided to make them both a cup of tea.
‘Thanks.’
‘It was the least I could do.’
#call of duty#cod x reader#x fem reader#x female reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x fem reader#cod ghost x reader#cod ghost x fem reader#ghost x reader#ghost x fem reader
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O-
GhostxFem!medic!reader
Reader is a medic that has been assigned to specifically take care of TF141. She learns just how difficult the lieutenant can be.
SFW, CW for- language, more then likely medical inaccuracies
You had worked next to Price shortly a few years after he started. Your impressive skill level always imprinted on him. After he became the Captain, he had sought you out specifically. The risks of the missions he was on he wanted someone he could trust on standby to take care of him and his men if something were to happen. Sure, you knew your way on the battlefield and could do basic operations if needed, but your area of expertise was caring for the injured. It was almost like you were hardwired and made for it, a natural.
Once learning Price had requested you, sought you for so long- it was a no-brainer to join him and his team.
"Ready to meet everyone?" He asked, his voice quiet but still carrying a booming effect.
"Sure am," she you replied, crossing your arms as he led her to his office. Inside stood 3 men. One that wore a blue hat in casual attire, the second one with bright blue eyes and a mohawk, and the other was a large looming man that leaned against the desk face covered with a skull balaclava, dressed all in black.
"Would like you all to meet the team medic, this is Y/N L/N. I sought her specifically for us."
Y/N stuck her hand out to greet everyone, shaking the first two, easily learning their names as Gaz and Soap. The third one, however, did not step forward to shake her hand. One could feel the distrust from his gaze.
Fine, You thought to herself and instead stood next to the Captain again.
Price explained your duties and how you would be attending missions with them on scene, in your own helicopter, and would respond as needed.
"If I could have dog tags, just to have full name and blood type, I'd appreciate it. Makes it easier for me to log and store blood if needed."
Again, the first two she met and Price complied, handing their dog tags over with ease. The large one never left his stance from the desk, arms crossed, hands never reaching into his shirt.
"Lieutenant," Price said just shy of a scolding manner.
"No worries, Captain, I'll manage." you said, waving it off. Honestly, far from offended, dealing with difficult men your entire career, becoming used to it. Price looked at you, shocked, wondering how you would "deal" with it. Scribbling the information down, your own chicken scratch looking difficult to anyone else who might read it before handing the tags back. "Thanks," you said cheerily, handing the tags back. "Lieutenant," nodding in his direction still being courteous to him. "I'll be in the MedBay updating my records and starting carts for all of your needs. Hope you all have a pleasant day." Nodding, and stepped through the group of men.
Once the door was shut, they all turned to Ghost appalled by his behavior to such a kind woman. "Why ya' gotta be like that, mate?" Soap asked him.
"Don't trust new people," he grumbled, leaving them all to shake their heads.
Time had passed, you had her records all updated and built trust with three of the group she cared for. Not quite with "Skullface" though, as you called him. Being on the team with the TF141, means you still had to qualify on all weapons... leaving you at the mercy of the range with the grumpy Lieutenant as he was the instructor.
His tone came across condescending at the very start. The first weapon he picked was a handgun. He showed how to load and reload the mags, how to place it in the bottom of the guns and forcefully shove up to make sure the mags don't fall out. How to use the iron sights and the difference between red dots, the difference between calibers - things already known by you but dared not say anything wanting to make a point. He handed back the pistol, taking aim, and shortly emptied the clip, hitting the metal target in the center. The ping echoed, target shaking with each bullet. Managing tactical reload, dropping the mag, pulling the full one from your belt, reloading it, and doing the same thing.
"You know how to use a gun?" he asked stunned.
"I do."
"You could have led with that."
"Didn't want to interrupt your whole "spiel, "seeming it's the most you've said to me the entire time I've been here."
Behind him, Price stood smiling, arms crossed as he stood at the front of the range. Game, set, match, he thought to himself comically.
"Can we do shotgun next, or are you gonna break the basics down for me on that, too?" Your tone playing coy, making Ghost shake his head, handing her the shotgun.
The day was over faster than Ghost expected it to be, thinking you would be inexperienced.
"I'm sorry I treated you like that," Ghost said humbly as they picked up the empties.
"Used to it."
This answer caused silence among them both. You took it upon yourself that he was waiting for you to answer why.
"Most men in this field just see me as a nurse. They seem to forget that Medic's have to be battle trained, too. Used to being treated like that."
He turned to look at you. "Shouldn't be a medic, you're better than most of the soldiers I've seen in the field."
"All be it surprised, I'm a better medic, then I am on the battlefield."
"Have to be one hell of a medic then."
"I am." you said confidently, throwing the expended bullet casings into a bucket to be repressed.
How grateful you were, that it ended on a positive note between the two this time.
"Here," he said, going to hand her his dog tags.
"Don't need them any more."
Even though his face was covered, you could tell he was confused by your response.
"Got it taken care of." smiling widely to him, throwing your assigned weapons over your shoulder and heading back to the base.
You had left him preplexed and him watching that smile never leave as your legs carried you away. Satisfaction filling you, knowing you made your mark on him.
"Fuckin' hell," he said quietly to himself.
Inevitably, the day came. Ghost had found himself and Soap injured, Ghost was losing blood rapidly, taking the grunt of whatever exploded. They requested evac but had to wait for an extraction team to get to him. His conscious status was in and out, vaguely remembering you and your squad getting to him and Soap. Your facial features make you seem like you were is glowing, the light being so bright. If he had not seen your ability to be deadly, he would have thought an angel was standing before him from the golden glow.
The next thing he knew, he was on the helicopter, finally coming to. He started to sit up quickly, the sudden alertness making him realize what had just happened
"Sit your ass still," you growled to him.
Even as a threat, your voice calmed him, making him indeed sit still.
"Where's Johnny?"
"Next to you, across the bird behind the curtain, my team got him stitched and wrapped up. Hold still," You said, pulling his arm back to her. He realized you were stitching him, hand holding his arm close. Noticing the IV for fluid and another for blood attached into his other arm. There, he saw a rolling cart with "Skullface" wrote on the top where his name should have been, bags of O- blood inside it.
"My blood type isn't O-," he said, head rolling over to look at her.
"Mine is. It's the universal donor."
Finally, he realized what you meant.
"That's your blood?"
"Yup, been pulling mine off for your cart in case something happened since you wouldn't give me your tags that day."
He was silent for a bit. That was her way of managing... using your own blood to save him. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you."
"Stop. You already apologized. Just be grateful I did what I did and didn't leave you to bleed out." Some men just needed tough love.
Somehow, you had struck him. He was seeing you in a different light once more. How grateful he was for his mask because if it wasn't there.. you would be able to read his face. Adoration and all. He leaned back into the pillow, letting you finish and look him over. Fingers ghosted across his skin as you moved his body to be able to check for whatever it was you were looking for. No resistance was given by him now. You had earned just more than his respect and trust. Just on the ride back to base, you already had him stitched up.
"Still will have to do scans to make sure there is no internal bleeding, but have to do that back at base. I'm glad you're still alive." you said, patting his thigh in an area that you knew was not injured.
"Fuckin' hell," a phrase he found saying all too much with you. Eyes watching your walk away and prepare for landing.
Soap pulled back his curtain, smiling mischievously at Ghost.
"Not a fuckin' word," he grumbled to him, knowing all to well that Soap knew that Ghost had caught feelings for hyou.
Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#mw2#simon riley#call of duty#call of duty mw2#ghost#ghost x fem reader#ghost X female reader#simon x fem reader#simon X female reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon x reader
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Run Me In Circles:
Credit for the top right picture (this is what Simon looks like in my head and I'll die on this hill <3) goes to Moony (@lielowatmoonys)-I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it- on X check those pictures out they're all awesome!
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2#ghost call of duty#ghost x fem reader#no y/n#a03 fanfic#a03 link#cod mwf2#cod fanfic
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Got Milk?
Summary: You have some of the wildest sexual fantasies all your life, but only Ghost and Konig could make it all come true.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader x Konig
Warnings: afab reader, sub!Ghost and Konig, polyamorous relationship, age play, age gap (reader in their 20s, Ghost and Konig in their early 40s), lactophilia, mutual masturbation, fingering, squirting, exhibitionist, golden shower, reader is highkey a nymphomaniac lmao, overall nasty nasty stuffs.
Word count: 2,010 words
NSFW. MDNI!
a/n: Please don’t take any medication without consulting a doctor first! Also this is my first ever fanfic so any suggestion and feedback is welcome 😊
You are a depraved person. Or at least, that’s who you think you are.
You are, however, not always like this. Not in the beginning, anyway. When you hit the ripe age of puberty, you started to feel something changes from the inside of your body. You start bleeding every month, there’s hair starting to grow in some parts of your body, the shape of your breasts start changing. It’s fine, you knew all about it, it’s all written in the science book from your school.
There’s something inside you that’s brewing. Something that you couldn’t explain and it’s not on the science book that you’ve been reading. So, you look for answers on the internet. Your parents have been so busy all your life so you basically have access to the internet, unsupervised, during your entire teenage hood. Until one day you accidentally saw someone on social media sharing a picture of their cock. It awakens something in you. That day, you finally find the answer that you’ve been looking for.
You finally find out that there such things as porn site, the place where people took off their clothes and have sex with each other. You also know what sex is, that’s what people do when they want to have children. But you don’t know it was going to be this hot. You could feel something between your legs, some kind of thing that wants to be released. So, you started touching that damp part between your legs, flicking this bud inside them, rubbing them continuously with your own fingers. God, it feels so good, so you keep rubbing them over and over again until something inside you started building and it exploded as you keep going.
You reached your first orgasm, and it was probably one of the best feelings that you ever felt. And now, you want more.
As you grew older, there’s not a single day where you didn’t spend at least half an hour watching porn every day. You need your daily dose of dopamine hit every day. It made you feel good, you loved the feeling every time you reach your climax, it does something to your body that you could never get enough. But as time passed, the type of porn that you usually watch couldn’t please you as much as they used when you first started watching them. It becomes monotone, just another people thrusting each other, making each other moans and grunts, yada-yada-yada, they hit their climax and done. You want more. God, you always want more, nothing is ever enough for you, you’re thinking that you’re practically insatiable at this point.
Until you find that there’s types of porn videos that… intrigues you. At first, you find it by coincidence, after clicking so many next pages when you tried to find something that could make you come like it used to. It was in a very low quality and have very few viewers, the title is also in some foreign language you couldn’t understand, and the actors are also speaking in foreign language, too. But goodness gracious, it was so fucking hot. Something that so sick to you at the time, where you see the girl is being peed on by so many men, basically showering in them. Made you feel so sick, it was so fucking disgusting, but at the same time it turns you on so fucking much. You want to be that girl so fucking much it hurts. After that you find so many videos of sexual fetishes and kinks you didn’t know about. Many people find it as sexual deviant, but not to you. It was practically the most perfect thing that any human being could do.
You came so much your body started trembling after watching that video, it was so good, just like the first time you have an orgasm. But now, you want more. And you want a real thing this time.
You have boyfriends in the past, you never been a hypersexual girl to other people because you always keep your image like a normal girl, you have sex with your boyfriends but none of them seems to please you like you want to. You can’t even come properly because they finished too soon, let alone fulfilling all your crazy sexual dreams. They only prioritize their own pleasure on top of yours. Reminds you of that one song where the singer sings about boys their own age doesn’t know how to treat and touch them right.
It all changes in one single night. That night, you struck an absolute gold.
You went clubbing with your friends. Club has never been your scene, you prefer to stay at home if you could but you don’t want to disappoint them, so you tag along. You could see your friends absolutely having a blast on the dance floor, moving their body to the beat, while you sat at the bar, drinking your cola instead of alcohol since you always find the taste of them disgusting and wondering why people like them so much. But soon you feel two pairs of eyes piercing into you, the gaze of two tall men, standing before you with hulking forms that strained their clothing. Both of them wearing mask, only leaving their eyes exposed. You could feel their stare boring into you. It was the hottest feeling in the entire world.
Soon, the two men approached you, asking to buy you a drink. You said no, but ask them to stick around. After some times talking, you found out that both men are in the military and they’re currently on a break from touring. You could feel the sexual tension in the air when you’re speaking with them, but one thing led another, and the next thing you know you’re sandwiched between them in the back of the club, both of them absolutely ravaging you like starving animals. They asked you to come home with them, and you said yes. The next thing you know you woke up in Ghost’s house, feeling absolutely worn because both men absolutely drained your energy from hours of sex and you came five times last night you seriously think that you’re gonna pass out from dehydration from non-stop squirting they made you do.
You can’t get enough of them, so you asked them to be with you, to make it an exclusive relationship between three of you. They said yes, but you didn’t know that your life will change forever.
At first the three of you are just having regular sex, it was always hot, they got stamina as fucking beast and you’re trying not to pass out every time you had sex with them. It lasted for hours most of the time, and it was everything you could ever dream off in your entire life. After few months, you decide to tell them that you have some ‘ideas’ to spice your relationship. It all started with having sex in a mall parking lot, fitting rooms now you’re fucking them out in the beach on the weekend where it was absolutely crowded with people, and they might catch three of you fucking in public place soon. But fuck it, right? The thrill of getting caught made three of you getting even more turned on.
One fucked up thing led to another, now you’re basically the girl from the porn video that you watched, the one that absolutely get golden showered by a lot of men. One time, you let Ghost and Konig showering you with their urine. You could feel the warm liquid drenching you from your head to toe, as you sit on the floor, feeling like you’re in heaven. Fuck, maybe you’re already dead and this is heaven. At first, you thought that they will be disgusted by you at this point, but you surprised that they actually into them as well. They also told that girls your age made them excited about life again, and they down to do anything that you want.
Bing-fucking-go.
At this point, there’s nothing you haven’t had with them and nothing they haven’t done to you. Everyday is an adventure with them, it’s exciting, and three of you are like animals when it come to sex. So, you’re always trying to find something new to bring to the table. The sky is the limit at this point. Soon you find out that there’s such thing as induced lactation as this usually done by adoptive parents who want to breastfeed their children. But of course, considering how insatiable you are, you also want this too. The thought of breastfeeding your men turns you on so much, so you look on the internet how can you induce lactation on yourself. Soon you find out that there’s medication for that and there are techniques that you can do such as massaging and pumping your own breasts. You do what the internet told you to do, and of course you do every single things that you read. Now you only need to find the right timing to do the act itself.
It was a quiet Sunday morning, as the three of you just wake up from your slumber. Sitting in dining room with the men, drinking their coffee, until Konig suddenly asked what should they have for breakfast, and you suddenly blurted out, “How about me for breakfast?”
The men, of course, pick up the cue right after you told them, both of them dragging you back to bedroom, stripping you naked then pushed you to the bed. You told them to strip their clothes as well and lay next to you.
You could feel Ghost fingers starting to caress your already damp cunt, as Konig fondling your breast and peppering your neck with kisses and nibbling them. You moan from the intense pleasure they’re giving you, but then you want them to start sucking your tits. “Your wish is our command, princess”, they said as the latch their mouth on your tits, sucking them like a starving baby. Ghost still pumping his fingers inside of your cunt as you stroke both of their strobing cocks at the same time.
In no time you started lactating your milk, thanks to your effort prepping them beforehand. The men are surprised in the beginning but tasting your breastmilk in their mouth and it made them so fucking hard. “Suck my tits, let me breastfeed you like a baby”, you said as you still pumping your hands on their cocks. The men sucked on your tits like their lives depend on it. Lapping all your milk that feels like coming out nonstop.
“I love it when you treat us like babies, mommy”, Konig said while he’s flicking your nipples and sucking on them, make sure he doesn’t let out a single drop from his mouth. On the other hand, you could hear Ghost muttering “You’re a fucking disgusting little cunt” under his breath as he keeps doing the same thing as Konig while pumping his fingers inside you mercilessly.
It doesn’t take a very long before you could feel your orgasm approaching, the overstimulation from the men milking your tits dry and Ghost’s thick fingers inside you make it unbearable. You could feel the men’s cocks started twitching in your hands as well.
Three of you came at the same time, you jerk your head back as you could feel the intense feeling of orgasm they gave you, Ghost keeps pumping his fingers inside of you, make sure to let it all out as you squirted so hard, drenching the bedsheet. The men shoot out their thick white liquid in your hands as you keep pumping them, hitting their orgasm as well as they still latching to your tits.
You finally came down from the high, as you kiss both men on the lips, telling how good they are for you today, whispering sweet nothings in their ears, as they cuddle to you, holding you tight.
This is perfect, and it doesn’t get any better than this, you muttered to yourself.
---
Reblog and likes is always appreciated. Thank you for reading!
#ghost x reader x konig#ghost x reader x konig smut#simon ghost riley x reader x konig smut#ghost x reader smut#ghost x reader#konig x reader#konig x reader smut#call of duty smut#konig cod#ghost cod#cod mw2#cod x reader#könig x reader#könig x reader smut#ghost x fem reader#könig x fem reader#modern warfare smut#shaf writes
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annnd back by a singular demand ghost’s daddy!kink is on a whole ‘nother lvl actually because he’s fucking desperate for that form of validation and affection from you!
he fucking lives for the way you chock and loose your words. the way your body looses all control and your mouth babbles of its own accord, only able to answer him with broken speech and need, his hips becoming your complete and utter salvation.
“Like that do ya baby— like the way daddy splits you on his cock?”
You can’t speak, you can’t think! The only thing keeping you tethered to this plane of existence the driving force of him hammering into your folded withering body.
All too soon though he’s slowing at your lack of respons, coming to a near standstill while he drags away from you horrifyingly slow.
“Com’n now, darling— can’t hear you? Want me to stop?” His dark eyes hold yours, startling and maddening all at the same time. Telling you, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would stop, leaving you aching and hollow and so dangerously close to the edge.
Suddenly you break, everything you were too mindless to say spilling from your lips in a geyser, of broken desire and fear.
“Please daddy!” You wail, big fat tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Don’t stop— please! Need you daddy— need you so bad!”
Ghost chuckles, his smile beneath his mask reaching his eyes as he comes back to lie over your chest.
“Atta girl,” he says, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his relentless rut returning with a vengeance.
“Keep talkin’ like that and might just have to fill this swollen cunt of yours—” he nuzzles at the lobe of your ear for good measure,“—make you nice and round with daddy’s babies, ay?”
#I’m making such a white person just trying to get passed you face rn#anyway…#yeah please don’t throw tomatoes at me#I have the fearTM#ghost is such a fan fav and I just wanna do him justice#ahh fuck it#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x fem reader#ghost smut#mw2 smut#nsft#gblurb#daddy things
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