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barefoothighlander · 11 months

Text

septem peccata mortalia - lust

simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader

warnings: mdni (18+), sex pollen, cnc, unprotected pinv, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, creampie, biting, mention of blood, bit of anal fingering, praise, dacryphilia

masterlist

“Mantis, I don’t have eyes on that field”

Ghost's voice warns you through the device in your ear, your mind flipping between options, you’re target had run straight ahead, you could see him weaving around the tall grass, navigating holes in the dirt as you moved closer.

“He’s in my sights Ghost”

“Do not engage without backup”

You can hear the wind passing through his mic, he’s chasing behind you but you can’t tell how far, there’s already too much distance between you and the target.

“Negative, I’m going after him”

The plants graze against your skin as you move through them, brushing against your legs as you leave a trail of footprints in the mud. You can hear Ghost's voice in your ear yelling at you, but the blood pumping in your veins is too loud, carrying you closer to the man.

It catches you by surprise, the lack of air flowing to your lungs, you’ve trained for situations worse than this, you should be able to run less than a few miles before even feeling the slightest bit tired, yet your skin was dripping with sweat, your head on fire as your legs grow heavier.

“Ghost, somethings wrong”

“Fall back Mantis”

“I can’t, he’s right there”

You huff your breaths, moving your legs as fast as they’ll go as you try to catch up to the target until all of a sudden your skin feels like it’s on fire, every hair on your body standing on end like someone lit a match to your flesh.

“Mantis, where are you”

“Field, red flowers” It’s all you can manage through strangled gasps for air, your hand clutching your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache.

You give up, your body drained of its energy as you watch the target move further away, the anger of defeat settling into your body as you collapse to the ground, your knees digging into the mud as your body sinks lower.

You can hear him in your ear, his voice echoing as he draws closer to you, there’s panic behind his voice, a real worry about you.

“Mantis, do you copy, are you alright?”

“Hurts”

His body sinks beside yours, nervous hands ghosting over your form as his eyes scan your body.

“Where, did he hit you”

“No”

“What happened?” His eyes dart from your head to your feet, noting the way your chest heaves with every breath. “There’s no blood, what’s wrong”

“Hurts so much”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shifting your hips, trying to do anything to calm the ache in your muscles as your skin feels like it’s being burned.

“Okay, okay c’mon”

His arms scoop under your form, lifting you and keeping you pressed against him, his scent flooding your senses as you rest your cheek to his chest, your body moving with every step he takes.

He moves from the field, searching the terrain as his eyes land on a circle of large trees, placing you down to rest against the trunk of one.

“We need evac, somethings wrong with Mantis”

“Ghost, please, it hurts”

“What hurts, tell me so I can help”

You can’t find the words to describe the sparks in your lower stomach, your face flush as you come to terms with having to beg your Lieutenant to fuck you.

“Need you Ghost��

“Need me to what? Stay focused Sargent”

Your mouth dries as you try to form the words, heavy eyes gazing at his, the dark pupils staring back at you behind the mask.

“Need you, to fuck me”

It was like every synapse in his brain fired at once, combining confusion and desire, the words he’d longed to hear for so long escaping your lips but under the worst circumstances possible.

His hands plant on the sides of your head, tilting it and checking your pupils, he was sure you must’ve sustained some sort of head injury, your eyes blown out and your skin searing to the touch.

“Ghost, Simon, please”

“Is that what hurts?”

You nod weakly, adjusting your body for some kind of friction, his knee bend between your legs as he holds you still. Arching your hips your grind your core against his clothed thigh, nerves shooting up your spine at the contact, weak moans falling from your lips.

If he thought you were playing some kind of joke before, he was sure you were serious, watching you grind against his leg, your chest rising as your head falls back against the tree. He can feel the warmth from your core through your clothes, radiating against his thigh, feeling his pants grow tighter with each second.

“Does that feel good?”

His brain flips a switch, too consumed with the sight of you using him to get yourself off to be concerned with anything else, he’s dreamed about your noises, the way your face would scrunch as you fell apart under his touch, but now you were using him for your pleasure, he wanted to help.

“Keep doing that, harder”

You press your down harder against his thigh, the seam of your pants rubbing against your swollen clit as he watches you. He rocks his leg slightly, following your rhythm as your arousal seeps through your pants, leaving a wet spot between your thighs, making his cock twitch.

“Just like that, keep going love”

He presses his leg firm against your core, applying the right amount of pressure as you chase your high, hips circling as your chest blossoms, muscles tightening as your orgasm takes over your body.

He helps you ride your high out, moving his knee back and forth to allow you to come down slowly, his cock now painfully hard under his pants as you slump back.

“Feel better?”

“Need more, please”

His hands make their way under you, shifting your body to lay flat on the ground as he moves to sit between your legs, large hands working quickly to undo your pants, wasting no time in dipping below your underwear and gliding his digits through your folds.

He lets out a groan as his fingers collect your slick, smearing it around your cunt as you whimper, he grabs your legs, pulling them to his chest and takes off your pants, leaning over to bunch them under your head, providing some sort of protection from the elements as he pushes two fingers into you, feeling the way your pussy clamps down on him.

He pumps two digits into you, gliding them easily along your walls as his thumb rubs circles over your sensitive bud.

“That feel good? My fingers fucking you?”

You respond with a moan, hands reaching for his and moving them under your shirt, urging him to touch you. He rolls your nipple between his fingers, pinching the bud eliciting a yelp from you as your hips rock in time with his movements, your skin drenched in sweat as he works you toward your second high.

“Cum for me love, soak my hand”

Your mouth falls open, drunken moans escaping as his fingers knead your breasts,

“So beautiful, c’mon want to feel you cum”

His words send you over the edge, your pussy squeezing his fingers as your orgasm tears through your body, back arching from the ground, pressing your body further onto his fingers as you cum.

“That’s it, such a good girl”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving an empty feeling in your chest,

“Better?”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you shake your head, “More Ghost, please, need more”

“Alright love, I’ll give you what you need”

He watches drops of tears stream down tour cheeks, salty trails left over your flushed skin, he’d never seen someone so worked up he almost pitied you.

He could lie and say he was simply doing it for your benefit, to help you with your situation but he knew he couldn’t control himself, every dream that had him waking in a sweat for the past few months, the reminder of how the tips of his ears would turn pink when you’d lean over a desk or bend down to grab something, he’d never felt desire for someone like this, like he’d be at your beck and call every hour of the day, willing to do whatever you wanted as long as it meant he could feel you.

Every fibre of his being burned for you, almost as brightly as yours did at that moment, he had so many thoughts about what he’d do when he finally got you naked, but this, right now, was about you.

You bite your lower lip as he rigs his pants lower, the tip of his cock red and dripping as it springs free, a slight sense of panic as your eyes take in the size of him but the way your core aches for him drowns out any sense of doubt.

He drags his tip through your folds, stifling a groan as your slick coats him, his hand pressed firmly to your waist as you lock your legs around him.

“Don’t tease” You huff

“M’not gonna last long”

You reach up, grabbing the top of his tactical vest as you pull his face to yours, soft eyes and wet cheeks inches from his face, he wants to stay like this forever, his thumb tuning gently over the tears on your skin, collecting them before he places the digit on your lower lip.

You open your mouth, allowing him to push his thumb in, swirling your tongue around the digit, the salt on his skin mixing with your saliva.

His thumb holds your jaw open as he pushes his cock in, stretching you around his length as moans erupt from your throat, your fingers grip his vest holding him near you, letting his scent and sounds drown you as his cock stuffs you full.

He drags his length along your walls, allowing you a moment to adjust before you tug him to face you.

“Need it hard, please”

Without missing a beat he plunges his full length into you, his tip jamming into your cervix with every thrust as you arch into him, your heels digging into his back, driving him into you.

“Thought about this for so long, so goddamn perfect”

You tilt your chin to the sky, your body jolting with every thrust as he leans down, fingers pulling his mask to reveal his lips as they connect with your collar bone, neck, chest, anywhere he could reach he was trailing kisses.

“Touch yourself love”

You do as he says, snaking a hand between your bodies to trace over your clit, eyes squeezing shut at the stimulation as they well up.

“Just like that, doing so well”

Weak digits work your bud, lazy circles out of time with his thrusts, your band in your stomach slowly stretching but it’s not enough.

“More Ghost, need more”

He stops his movements for a minute, a single digit moving to part your lips, pushing in and exploring your mouth as you whimper around it.

He pulls his finger out with a pop, his cock still inside you as his other hand grabs your leg, flipping your body and tugging you up to your knees.

He teases the wet finger around your other hole, his cock twitching inside you as you arch your back for him, pushing your hips back to allow him access.

Slowly he pushes in, thrusting his length slightly as he reaches the first knuckle, listening to your noises.

“This what you need pretty girl both holes filled?”

“Yes, please, fuck me”

He pushes the finger deeper, watching your hole swallow the digit as he pumps his cock into you, slowly he pulls his finger, pushing it back in, allowing you to adjust before moving in time with his thrusts.

You’re stuffed to the brim with his cock while his finger works you open, your slick dripping from your core to coat your legs as his hips collide with your ass, using the last bit of your strength to steady yourself in the dirt.

“Want you to cum in me, please, need to feel you”

His balls tighten at the thought,

“Fuck, cum for me love, one more, squeeze my cock with your little pussy”

Your body melts into putty, every inch of skin slick with sweat as you turn your head to face him, watery eyes staring as he locks eyes with you, his lips are still visible, a piece of him you’d never seen before.

In a burst of strength you pull off him, turning your body and shoving him back as you climb onto his lap, weak hands on his shoulders as you sink down on his cock, leaning in to connect your lips. You bare your teeth into his lower lip, stifling the moan from your throat as his hands grip your waist, tugging you up and down his cock as he digs his heels into the dirt, thrusting his hips to meet yours, his cock slamming into you with brutal force.

You taste metal in your mouth, pulling back a drip of blood falls from his lips, mixing with the saliva that strings you two together, everything is too much, his hands holding you against him as he fucks you from below, his scent drowning your senses as his taste lingers on your tongue, it takes over your body.

You cum with a sob, your arms clinging to him as your body becomes putty, with one arm he tugs you against him, holding you down on his cock as his hips twitch, free hand grabbing your jaw to face him, his eyes softening as they glance as your wrecked form, puffy skin stained with your cries.

You watch his jaw tense as his grip tightens, his cock buried in you as his cum floods your walls, filling you with his seed while he stares into your eyes.

You fall against him, your head nestled into his shoulder as your nerves finally calm, your limbs numb on his form as he holds you, small kisses placed to your sticky skin.

“You’re alright love, did so well”

Your tears soak the shoulder on his uniform, leaving a patch of dark fabric as he helps you up, holding you to keep you steady, he helps you to tug on your pants, letting them fall loosely on your hips to avoid any contact with your pussy.

He scoops your body up before you have the chance to stumble, holding you to his chest as he moves, keeping his eyes on you instead of the terrain, more concerned with your well-being than anything else.

“It’ll be alright, I’ll get you home”

The time spent in the helicopter is a blur, the noises all meshing into one high pitched ring that didn’t subside until you fell asleep against his chest, your mind and body weak from the mission. You had slept for hours, your nervous system attempting to fight off whatever sort of chemical had entered it, your vision still a slight blur as you woke, turning your head to your surroundings, the room you were in had different lighting than the hospital wing at base, the bed your body lay in much comfort than the cots they issued.

There was no mechanical beeping, no strong scent of cleaning solution, instead it smells like him, you turn your gaze, he’s there, sitting in the corner, watching you.

“You’re awake”

You grumble an incoherent response, attempting to sit up as he rushes to your side, his hand flat on your back as he helps you, he reaches for the glass beside you, bringing it to your lips to help you drink, urging you to finish it before moving it away.

“What happened?”

“Some sort of chemical entered your system, they can’t tell what”

“S’that why-?”

“I think so, yeah”

You nod weakly, Ghosts shoulders slump slightly at your question,

“No hospital?”

“They kept you for a few hours but I didn’t want them poking around”

“So we’re now where?”

“My flat, I figured you could rest here”

“Oh”

“I can take you home if you like”

You shake your head, “Here’s fine”

“Right, I’ll make you some tea then”

He stands from the bed, your eyes following his movements,

“Simon”

“Yes love?”

“It wasn’t just the chemical”

You see his eyes crease under his balaclava, confirmation that you felt the same way he did, kneeling beside you his thumb traces over your cheek, now cool and relaxed rather than burning to the touch.

He lifts his mask from his chin, leaning forward to connect your lips, your hand moving to cover his as he grabs it, locking his fingers between yours.

He pulls back from the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours as he huffs a breath,

“Rest love, I’ll take care of you”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2022 #simon riley fluff #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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b00inazkaban · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST #2

Navigation!

Let me know if there are any characters you’d like added and I’ll look into it! :)

Smut = **

What I will NOT write for under any circumstance: R@pe, incest, anything to do with pee or poo, hardcore bdsm or anything like that type of smut, kidnapping reader for love, anything stalker, abuse unless it’s for angst but I won’t go into detail about the abuse (though I will do like slapping/spanking for smut it cannot have malicious meaning behind it, and there is always consent for that)

Also let me put this by itself, pregnancy is also way off the table. It’s 6 feet underground. I understand it’s part of life and it’s beautiful , and that’s for people to decide but personally I find just the concept of that horrifying and gross. I do breeding kink yes, but no description of pregnancy. (No hate to pregnant people I just can’t stand the concept of pregnancy in any form.)

MARVEL:

☆ Tony Stark

☆ Steve Rogers

☆ Bruce Banner

☆ Natasha Romanoff

☆ Clint Barton

☆ Bucky Barnes

☆ Sam Wilson

☆ Peter Parker

☆ Thor Odison

☆ Loki Laufeyson

☆ Dr. Stephen Strange

☆ Peter Quill

☆ Gamora

☆ Drax the destroyer

☆ Rocket the Racoon

☆ Mantis

☆ Groot

Poly Requests:

STRANGER THINGS:

☆ Steve Harrington: Steve Harrington x FtM reader**

☆ Robin Buckley :

☆ Nancy Wheeler:

☆ Eddie Munson:

☆ Johnathan Byers:

☆ Argyle:

☆ Billy Hargrove:

☆ Mike Wheeler: Little!Mike x GN!CG!Reader

☆ Dustin Henderson

☆ Will Byers

☆ Lucas Sinclair

☆ Eleven Hopper

☆ Max Mayfield

☆ Jim Hopper:

☆ Joyce Byers:

☆ Dmitri Antonov:

Poly Requests:

HARRY POTTER/MARAUDER:

☆ Harry Potter:

☆ Ron Weasley: CG!Ron Weasley x Little!GN!reader

☆ Hermione Granger:

☆ Fred Weasley: CG!Fred Weasley x Little!Fem!Reader

☆ George Weasley: George Weasley x reader ; CG!George Weasley x LittleMale!Reader

☆ Neville Longbottom: Sub!Neville x Dom!Reader**

☆ Draco Malfoy:

☆ Blaise Zambini:

☆ Enzo Berkshire:

☆ Mattheo Riddle:

☆ Theo Nott:

☆ Pansy Parkinson:

Marauders Era or Lighting Era:

☆ Lucius Malfoy:

☆ Narcissa Malfoy:

☆ Severus Snape:

☆ Bellatrix Lestrange:

☆ Barty Crouch Jr. :

☆ Evan Rosier:

☆ Pandora Rosier:

☆ Zahara Zambini:

☆ Regulus Black:

☆ Sirius Black:

☆ Remus Lupin:

☆ Lily Evans:

☆ Marlene McKinnon:

☆ Mary McDonald:

☆ Dorcas Meadows:

FANTASTIC BEASTS:

☆ Newt Scamander:

☆ Thesus Scammander:

☆ Jacob Kowalski:

☆ Queenie Goldstein:

☆ Albus Dumbledore (young):

☆ Gellart Grindlewald (young):

Poly Requests:

CRIMINAL MINDS:

☆Aaron Hotchner

☆ Jason Gideon

☆ Spencer Reid

☆ Derek Morgan

☆ JJ/ Jennifer Jareau

☆ Elle Greenaway

☆ Penelope Garcia

☆ Emily Prentiss

☆ David Rossi

Poly Requests:

BRIDGERTON:

☆ Anthony Bridgerton

☆ Benedict Bridgerton

☆ Colin Briderton

☆ Daphne Bridgerton

☆ Eloise Bridgerton

☆ Simon Basset

☆ Penelope Fetherington

☆ Queen Charlotte (Young)

☆ King George (Young)

Poly Requests:

Queen charlotte x reader x King George

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES:

☆ Leonardo: NSFW alphabet

☆ Raphael:

☆ Donnatelo:

☆ Michelangelo: Mikey x Reader

☆ April O'Neil:

☆ Casey Jones:

Poly Requests:

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; April 4-in-1; turtles are manspreading and you want payback 😚

Poly!TMNT x Fem!Reader; Casey tries to flirt with reader but she puts down the idea and the turtles are proud

TOP GUN:

☆ Pete Mitchell "Maverick"

☆ Bradley Bradshaw "Rooster"

☆ Jake Seresin "Hangman"

☆ Natasha Trace "Phoenix"

☆ Robert Floyd "Bob"

Poly Requests:

THE HOBBIT/LOTR:

☆ Thorin

☆ Bilbo

☆ Fili

☆ Kili

☆ Dwalin

☆ Bofur

☆ Bard

☆ Legolas

☆ Tauriel

☆ Thuranduil

Poly Requests:

TWILIGHT:

☆ Carlisle Cullen

☆ Esme Cullen

☆ Emmet Cullen

☆ Rosalie Cullen

☆ Alice Cullen

☆ Jasper Cullen: CG!Jasper Hale x nb!little!reader

☆ Edward Cullen

☆ Bella Cullen/Swan

☆ Jacob Black

☆ Garrett

The Volturi:

☆ Aro

☆ Caius

☆ Marcus

Poly Requests:

THE HUNGER GAMES:

☆ Katniss Everdeen

☆ Petta Mellark

☆ Finnick Odair

☆ Johanna Mason

☆ Haymitch Abernathy

Poly Requests:

LUCIFER:

☆ Lucifer Morningstar

☆ Mazikeen

☆ Amenadeil

☆ Chole Decker

☆ Linda Martin

Poly Requests:

How To Train Your Dragon:

☆ Hiccup Haddock

☆ Astrid Hofferson

☆ Snotlout

☆ Ruffnut

☆ Tuffnut

Poly Requests:

Across The SpiderVerse:

☆ Miles Morales

☆ Miguel O'Hara

Spider thoughts!

☆ Peter B. Parker

Spider thoughts!

☆ Hobie Brown

☆ Gwen Stacy

☆ Spider-Noir

Spider thoughts!

Poly Requests:

Descendants:

☆ Mal

☆ Evie

☆ Carlos

☆ Jay

☆ Gil

☆ Harry

☆ Uma

Poly Requests:

MATCHUPS/MOODBOARDS:

☆ @thoughtfulcreatornight x Raphael matchup

☆ Anonymous x Remus Lupin matchup

꧁〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎꧂

I’ve redone my masterlist because I was vey unhappy with my first one, and I wanted to add pictures to go with it! I’ll also be adding all my new work onto here and my old work will be on the first masterlist! Love y’all! 💗

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buryustogether · 1 year

Text

fucked

viktor vektor x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings/tags: pining, age gap, some descriptions of masturbation and sex, blood, street fighting, vik’s down bad

summary: while watching you in a street fight, viktor thinks about what’s holding him back from you.

author’s note: wrote this in class so it sucks

Viktor knew he was fucked the first time he saw you, in tow behind Jackie with a broken arm and a bloody smile that made his stomach clench in the best way possible. He knew he was fucked when you started coming around more often, bringing dinner and gossip from your latest jobs. He knew he was fucked the times you used his gym to train, and he would pretend to work while watching sweat drip down the back of your neck and imagine licking it off with the flat of his tongue.

Yeah, he was fucked.

And it was all on you.

Viktor exhaled a sigh as he locked the clinic door, then tread back down the dim stairwell and back into his cave - at least, that was what you called it. He’d shut up the place early in anticipation of the fight preparing to happen at this moment.

But this wasn’t one of his matches he watched on the network. This was a match taking place in a Kabuki back parking lot, filmed on a cellphone, streamed on an app that forced him to connect his tablet to his television so he could watch it without squinting. This was a winner takes all, loser gets shamed and maybe dies of a brain bleed later kind of fight.

And you were participating in it.

Grabbing the screwdriver he often fiddled with on his mechanical fingers, he dropped into his rolling chair so that he sat backwards and raised his arms to rest on the backrest. Absentmindedly, he began to tinker with his cyber appendages and trained his eyes on the screen.

When you’d come into the clinic last week and told you about this fight, he was wary, to say the least. You would be going up against Simon Shredder - an infamous street fighter known for pulling mantis blades on his opponents when the match wasn’t going his way. You had assured Viktor you’d be fine. You had Jackie there with you.

Viktor had snorted at that. “Like two of you is going to be a match for a half-crazed backstabber and his dozens of fans.”

“You’re always free to come along,” you had told him while you steadied the punching bag. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from glancing at the tops of your sweaty breasts, hidden behind your sports bra. “That is, if you can keep your eyes on the fight.”

Viktor twisted the screwdriver a little too hard and grimaced before shaking his hand out and flexing his fingers.

It was always something with you - wether it was flirtatious comments like that, or giving him a kiss on the cheek in thanks for a repair that lasted a little too long, or making yourself far too comfortable around him to be considered a friend and nothing more. He couldn’t count on his hands the number of times you’d stayed late to watch a fight and propped your feet up in his lap - dangerously close to his crotch, which he’d shifted to try and avoid your foot with. The last thing he needed was you realizing such a simple act could make him hard as granite.

Besides, what would a pretty little thing like you do with an old man like him? You had other young people chasing after you left and right. Like you’d ever think of him like he thought of you.

Shoving tongues down throats until neither of you could breathe. Grinding against hips. Gripping thighs and releasing small, desperate moans…

Fuck, he was a goddamn pervert. He needed to get a serious fucking grip.

Viktor turned his attention back to the screen. An official - more likely the one who arranged the fight and profited from either outcome - was speaking to both you and Shredder in the middle of the lot. Surrounding you pair were a few dozen onlookers, passing bets back and forth and pointing and assessing.

He didn’t focus on any of them. He was staring at you. Flexible trousers and a tank top, low enough to catch glimpses of the tight pink bra wrapped around your torso. Bandages wrapped around your pretty little knuckles, ones he’d wrapped himself time and time again. Eyes that were stern and intelligent, hard and steely and the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

The official wasn’t audible over the excited chatter of the crowd, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what he was saying. No hits above the waist. No enhancements, cybernetic advancements, or anything of the sort. Fight until mercy or… well, the alternative.

Viktor’s hand had stilled, his attention focused on your opponent. Simon Shredder was a big guy, bigger than Jackie, even. Muscles the width of tires, a height that would trump even the Animals bodyguards, eyes that had been replaced with cheap optical units that made it seem like his pupils were a bloody red. He dwarfed you in every sense of the word.

He could easily kill you if the desire arose within him.

Viktor found a deep, anxious sensation swirling about his belly. He continued with his tinkering. He’d worked with you for hours just for this fight, learning how to use an opponent’s weight and momentum against them. When Jackie was down for it, he’d watch you kids spar, commenting on techniques and offering critique, and it wasn’t uncommon to end the matches with Jackie lying beneath you, arm twisted behind him and tapping for mercy.

Sometimes, after you and Jackie left, he would drag himself to his apartment upstairs and stroke his aching cock to the thought of you pinning him beneath him like you did. He’d think of you rolling your hips against his, knees digging into the floor at his sides, your fingers curled around his jaw to keep his eyes on you while you raised and lowered yourself on him.

Viktor shifted in his seat as, on screen, the official moved to the sidelines. The fight was about to begin. A sense of pride swirled in his chest when you spoke and stuck out your hand for a shake - something he’d taught you himself to do before and after every match.

“To show you’re a good sport,” he had said.

“Good sport?” you’d asked and leaned back against his shoulder. “There’s winners and losers these days, old man. No more participation trophies, I’m afraid.”

And yet, after that piece of advice, you’d began to shake the hand of every opponent you went against.

Viktor snorted with distaste when Shredder glanced at your outstretched hand, then spat at your feet and readied himself into a fighting stance. Rolling your shoulders, you followed suit.

The crowd reared, shouting their praises and insults as you pair readied to fight. Part of him wished he had accepted your invite so he could be there himself to watch as you handed this guy’s ass to him. Or so he could be there to keep you from getting your ribs caved in.

There came the deafening shot of a blank fired into the air - because no one would be able to hear if the official yelled start - and the hollers of excitement multiplied.

You and Shredder slowly circled one another, footwork placed delicately and confidently all at once. You darted forward first. With a small leap to reach his level, you barreled your fist forward - only to miss as he ducked out of your way. You didn’t even have a moment to land before he landed a blow to your upper spine, sending you staggering forward for balance.

Viktor frowned deeply. Strike to the thoracic vertebrae. Discomfort later. Possible seize-ups and pulled muscles.

The crowd reacted with mixed reactions as you spun around, keeping yourself straight. It would take more than that to put you down. Digging your heels into the tarmac, you surged forward and raised your fist -

Only for your hand to be caught just inches from Shredder’s face. People groaned. People cheered. Viktor stilled. Though the feed was rather shaky, he could make out Shredder’s lips moving, his mouth close to your ear as he murmured something to you. Then he twisted your arm, causing you to bend to prevent it from snapping, and delivered a vicious blow to your face.

Viktor’s heart skipped a beat and he leaned forward, lips parted in shock. Your smaller figure collided with the ground hard, and you flailed slightly, struggling to roll onto your hands and knees. The person streaming the fight moved in the crowd to get a better angle. From there, the camera zoomed in on your face.

Blood trickled steadily from your nose. Your left eye was squeezed shut. Scarlet dripped from your lips as you shakily pawed at your mouth.

Viktor’s breath was stuck in his throat. Possible broken nose. Bitten tongue? Black eye? Bad enough he needed to prepare a replacement?

Fuck, he never should have let you do this. Never should have agreed to help you, never should have let you walk out the door this morning and wished you good luck. He should have kept you here, where he could look after you. Keep you safe. Make you feel good. So fucking good you couldn’t stand it.

Shredder stalked across the lot and towered over you, then crouched so that he could be closer to again murmur something to you. The official was already preparing to call it off.

But then it happened - just like it always did.

You pulled through. You surprised them all. Even Viktor, where he sat in his clinic miles away.

As Shredder leaned down to be at your level, you suddenly turned and cracked him across the face with your fist. He fell back onto his ass, stunned by your abrupt blow, and you took the opportunity to straddle his chest and deliver a series of whiplash-inducing strikes to his startled expression. Blood spattered on the tarmac. The crowd erupted.

“That’s it, kid,” Viktor said. “Fuck him up.”

It wasn’t more than thirty seconds of your incessant beating that Shredder tapped the ground blindly - mercy. The official appeared in view, dragged you off the hulking man, and raised your fist to the crowd.

Winner.

They cheered. They booed.

But you stood there, a smug and satisfied smile painted across your bloody expression, basking in the glow. Viktor knew that feeling; when it seemed like the world was at your feet and nothing, fucking nothing, could take it away from you.

He sighed and leaned back slightly, then glanced at the wrought iron doors that led to the stairwell. He was still for a long, long time.

“It’s bad luck to sit on these kinds of things,” Misty had told him one night, when he’d been drunk and let her do an aura cleansing and he’d blurted about his little perverted crush on you. “The fates are going to take this opportunity away from you if you wait too long, you know.”

He’d brushed her off at the time. You’d never go after an old timer like him. But yet… how was he to know if he never asked?

Viktor swore, then brought up his vision screen and called you up. It rang only once before you picked up.

“Hey, Vik!” you greeted on the other end. He watched your face, bloody and bruised, light up with a grin when you saw him. It made his heart melt and his cock ache all at once.

“Hey, kid,” he said and leaned forward. “Great fight tonight. Really. Knew you would pull through.”

“Hah! You don’t have to lie to me, old man. I know it didn’t look good.” Somewhere on the other end, he heard Jackie’s voice. “Sure, Jack. I-“

“Listen, kid.” Viktor paused, took a breath, and let it out. “Feel like swinging by the clinic? I can check out the damage, if you want. And I’ve got a few cold ones with your name on them.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, Vik.”

After you hung up, Viktor caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a mirror.

Oh, yeah.

He was so fucked.

#cyberpunk2077 #cyberpunk 2077 x reader #cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 smut #viktor vektor #viktor x reader #viktor vektor x v #viktor vektor x you #viktor vektor/you #viktor vektor/Reader #cyberpunk v #cyberpunk viktor

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bravo4iscool · 2 months

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Hii, this this the person talkin about chubbier Simon! Give me a sec and let me set the stage for you,

Simon Riley x 141!reader whos on military leave to cope after a particularly hard mission. Reader finds a way of coping and expressing their love to simon through the art of cooking for him constantly. (i come from largely a guyanese and indian family so everyday theres always good food on the table) So we all know this man can eat ALOT (he needs to maintain his girlish figure after all😌lmao) So i can just IMAGINE him eating all the stews, curries, roti and rice (or whatever culture/country reader comes from)he can get his hands on! He would have such an appreciation for food from working in the military so long and having limited food he could eat. So going from a man of pure slabs of muscle to slabs of muscle but WITH softer abs he gets a little self conscious but he sees the benifits that hes getting alot with a great meal everyday and how his reader ogles him everyday hes starts to like the change. (Theres actually more benefits for having muscle and fat than just pure muscle!! When you see bodybuilders with just pure muscle the muscles in their whole body are constricted causing cramps and alot more muscle pulling in day to day life compared to heavy weight lifters who many not look as muscular but can lift much more while still having a strong core and overall more power)

Sorry to ramble and run but this has been rattling my brain. Have a great day and remember to drink water♡

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! i‘m sorry i wasn’t able to answer it any sooner, i‘m in my last three weeks of school and it‘s kinda stressful🥲. i hope you can understand…

as someone who is russian-german i totally understand the whole food thing😭 (thats why reader will be russian-german lol. it‘s the only culture i really know about the food and all that (at least i think i know about the food🧍🏼). also, i do not know the english names of the food so i‘ll be using the terms i know.)

i hope you like this!!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

„y‘cooking too good f‘me,“ simon mumbles as he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. „‘m loosing all my muscles.“

you chuckle and turn your head to look at him. „that‘s not true! you‘re just developing a little more fluff.“ you smile and turn again to focus on the food you‘re preparing. „besides having muscles with a layer of fat is way healthier than just muscles.“ you can feel simon nod with his head rested on yours.

„what‘re y‘makin‘?“

„pelmeni,“ you answer, skilfully sticking the dough together so the meat would stay inside while you cook them. „i haven‘t made them for you till now.“

simon lowers his head so it‘s beside yours and examines the dough and meat in front of you. „thought we a’ready had ‘em two weeks ago?“

you shake your head and lick your bottom lip, trying to concentrate. „that were manti simon. they are made like…mochis. pelmeni are cooked in water.“

simon doesn‘t say anything and buries his nose in your neck. „t‘boys will laugh a‘me when we return,“ he mumbles as his lips ghost over your skin to leave little kisses.

„they won‘t,“ you protest and slightly slap his arm. „if anything they will be jealous!“ you dust your hands off and turn around in his arms. he looks at you and you start to frown. „you are not…insecure, are you?“ when simon just blinks at you without answering you take his face into your hands.

„you, simon riley, do not need to be insecure because you’re eating good. you’re not getting fat or losing muscles. if anything, you’re only getting healthier because the army food is total garbage and you’re finally getting some real food,“ you try to explain, withstanding his gaze the whole time. „don‘t beat yourself up over stuff like this.“ your voice is gentle as you caress his scarred face with your thumbs. „you deserve something good life. let me be that something.“

silence follows after you‘re done talking and you could swear you saw a tear in simon‘s eye but then he blinks and it is gone. „i don‘t deserve ya,“ he whispers, pulling you close again. „i don‘t deserve ya…“

„oh, but you do,“ you smile as you pull him down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. „you do deserve me and you also deserve my food.“ you put your arms around his waist and hug him. he does the same, keeping you close to him. he rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. he just wants to savour this moment…

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #call of duty #simon riley #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #dad bod simon #dad bod simon riley

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thegnomelord · 4 months

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All this talk about hybrids has me thinking of a praying mantis hybrid.... I imagine they don't really gore their mates anymore but the thought of the 141 being fully aware of your species instincts while you're just nibbling on their neck seems fun :3c

Idk why but I feel like Simon would get this morbid curiosity about it, like the knowledge of how much danger he could be in when your mandibles softly nibble on his neck has his brain doing the windows blue screen. Probably asks you to blow him just to have those sharp mandibles at his most vulnerable spots and just the trust of knowing you wouldn't hurt him will have the poor thing cumming so fast

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2

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soapyghost · 1 year

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CAUGHT (SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x F! READER)

Wordcount: 3.3k Warnings: Smut, language, inappropriate relationship with your superior, pet names, f! gendered reader, slight hypoxyphilia, p in v, unprotected sx, cream pie, fingering, probably more so sorry if i forgot some. A/N: I really wanted to write a lil enemies to lovers Ghost x Reader so enjoy. Also this is not really proofread just pure horny on main. Enjoy! Tag list: @tomhollandisabae, @confuseddipshit,

You were never one for teams, you preferred to be alone. It was easier that way. Nobody to fuck up the mission. Maybe it stems from the fact that your parents died and left you at the tender age of 3 to the mercy of the Mob. They died before they could pay their dues, or maybe died because of it, and you were the payment. It didn’t matter to you any way. The Mob became your family. From the day they died up until your faction of the Mob was taken down you were trained to be the best assassin. Your tiny frame and pretty face made it all the more easier, nobody suspected the Mob to send a little girl to collect. As you grew up and began to really hone your craft, luring men in and ending their life before they even knew what happened. This is how you earned your nickname, Mantis.

“Mantis, sit rep” the gravely voice of your Captain comes through the earpiece and snaps you out of your thoughts. You roll your eyes, “I’m alive”, back pressed against the wall of some shitty club, eyes scanning the smokey room for your target. After the raid on the Mob, it was either a life in prison or a life of service to Task Force 141 and you were too pretty for prison. You surmise they were impressed by the sheer number of men you’d taken down in your short life. At 21 you were the youngest on the team, but far from the least experience.

“Don’t think he’s showing Cap” you muse while sipping on your drink, some shitty mocktail because they team refused to let you drink on the job. Little did they know you did some of your best work while tipsy, words flowed easier from your lips while the warmth of alcohol flows through you. But for the sake of playing nice you promised you wouldn’t drink on recon missions, but only recon. “You’re right. Rendezvous at the safe house in 30” Price sighs.

Your team really isn’t so bad, it’s not your family but they’ll do. They were wary of you when you were first brought to base, but they all warmed up quickly; you still haven’t gotten completely comfortable with them but you fit into the team almost perfectly. Almost. There was one hiccup, your Lieutenant, Ghost. No matter how hard the team tried, neither of you liked each other. Maybe it’s because you came from crime, maybe it’s because you killed weak men. You’ve given up on trying to play nice with him. There have been more than a few screaming matches that have ended with Price and Soap pulling you two into separate rooms. Thank god, you think to yourself, he wasn’t sent out on this mission. You unlock the door to the shitty run down ranch home that was your safe house for this mission and walk through the door and there he is. Ghost.

“What the fuck are you doing here” you spit at him. He’s sitting on the armchair in the living room smoking, mask still covering most of his face. “That’s no way to greet your Lieutenant, Princess” he responds. There’s that god awful nickname. He’s taken to calling you a Princess because “you act like one” he claims. You’d become accustom to nice things in the Mob, so the shock of suddenly being thrust into the military was quite the change for you. “Oh fuck off Simon” his name coming off your tongue with nothing but hatred. This man has made your transition nothing but hell, having you run extra laps, do more pushups and spend hours on the range perfecting your shot. Nothing was ever good enough for him. “Where is Price?” you snap, noticing his bag is gone from house. “Had another mission to go on, so they sent me” his voice laced with resent. He didn’t want to be there, at least you had that in common. “I could do this on my own, go home” you say, tossing your expensive coat on the couch near him and unclipping your hair from its updo. Kicking your heels in his direction, “did you at least bring me something to eat?” You ask pointedly. He grunts and motions to the kitchen where some takeout waits for you.

After you devour the cheap greasy takeout that Simon had grabbed, you walk back out of the kitchen and saunter past him. “Going to bed, you get the couch LT” you smirk. He nods, more interested in whatever rerun is playing from the TV than you. You roll your eyes, and turn around to go down the hall when a thought enters your mind. A wry smile creeps up on your face as you reach for the zipper on the back of the dress you’re wearing. You make sure the sound of the zipper unzipping is loud enough for him to hear it and let the dress drop to the floor. If he was going to make this mission hell, you’d do the same thing. “Night Simon” you sing, as you turn your head back in his direction hoping to catch a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. But when you look back there isn’t an ounce of shock on his face, it’s something…darker. The look he gives you when he watches you run another lap or do 20 more pushups. His eyes black as night, not moving from yours. A huff of annoyance escapes you as you stride to the bedroom.

The next day you keep yourself cooped up in the bedroom until it’s mission start. The thought of being in the same room as Ghost makes your skin crawl. Why did he look at you like that, you muse as you apply makeup. Anger bubbles inside of you, he should be grateful. Spewing compliments at the meer glance he got at your body. But no, he just looked at you with the same superiority he always does. You slam the bottle of cheap perfume down on the counter and get dressed. A silent prayer that your target shows up today so you can get back to base and not spend another night with him.

“I’m going” you yell across the house as you put in your earpiece. Not waiting for a response, you grab your coat and slip into your heels, slamming the door on your way out. The cool air helps clear your mind, quell your anger. You were so having real liquor tonight. The walk to the club isn’t terribly far and before you realize it you’re at the door slipping past the line. As you walk into the club you leave your coat with the bouncer, thanking him with a kiss on the cheek. Works every time. You saunter to the bar and order yourself a vodka Redbull, if you had to be here all night you were going to need something to keep you up.

“I thought we agreed no drinking” ghost growls through the earpiece. “We- didn’t agree to shit” you mutter in response and grab your drink before the man next to you could offer to buy you a drink. Another night of sulking in the back, shooing off drunken suiters all while searching for your target. It’s simple enough of a mission, locate the target, get him alone and drug him to take him back to the safe house to get information. You’d been here almost a week now waiting on him to show up and you’re beginning to believe the intel is bogus.

You’re well into your 3rd drink when your target finally walks in. “He’s here” you breathe, almost not believing that he actually showed. Vladlen Adrik, 2nd in command of a Russian terrorist group. He’s a lot bigger than you thought, well over 6ft and 300lbs, with a bushy beard and beady eyes. "Game time Mantis, show me why the chose to spare you" Simon challenges you. Again, you roll your eyes at his comment. Taking a deep breath, you wander through the throngs of people dancing and spilling drinks on the dance floor towards VIP where Vladlen disappeared to. This is the only part of the plan that may go wrong, if Vladlen doesn't acknowledge your presence than you'll never get passed the bouncers of VIP. As you get close to the VIP area the bouncer puts out his arm to stop you, "This is off limits miss" he barks. "Awhh, but why" you whine, looking up at him with doe eyes. You say it rather loudly, hoping that Adrik heard you, and he does. "Alexsei" you hear him growl, "let the lady through". Alexsei lifts his hands up to chest and lets you through. Game on. "Thank youuuuu mister?" you lay on the thick accent of liquor to make it seem like you're a lot drunker than you are. "Vlad" he responds, lust dripping from his voice. Putting your hand on his chest "Well Vlad, looks like I owe you" you purr. He flinches slightly at your touch, "hmm I guess you do". "How ever can I repay you" you look up at him through your eyelashes. "I can think of a few ways" he says, pulling you into his lap. You let out a giggle as you thud against his thigh. You recognize most of the faces at the table as more members of the terrorist group, but none of them are paying you any mind. You lean into Vlad and snake your hands down to his very obvious erection, "oh?" you mewl in his ear. He suppresses a grunt of pleasure at your light touch. "Alexsei, get us a room would you" his shouts over you, and the minute he flicks his eyes off you and up to the bouncer you flick the drug into his drink. Men are so easy. Alexsei nods and goes to get the keys to a private room. Vlad takes a big swig of his drink and returns his gaze back to you and the little red dress you're wearing. Raising an eyebrow he asks, "is that alright with you kitten?". A giggle and a smile is all he needs to pull you up and walk you to the private room.

Everything is going exactly to plan as Vlad leads you to the very last private room in the hallway, which is right next to the emergency exit Ghost will be using to get in and help haul this giant of a man out. As Vlad goes to open the door he drops the keys, the drug working a little faster than intended. You bend over to pick them up for him and Vlad grabs your ass which makes you squeak in surprise. Grabbing the keys and regaining your composure you unlock the door for him and lead him into the room. He stumbles in and with one swift movement you shove him onto the bed. Soft snores escape his mouth and you know the hardest part of this mission is over. "Tango down" you murmur into the earpiece. Not a minute later your skull masked Lieutenant comes through the door. "Great job, kitten" he remarks. Rolling your eyes you walk over to Vlads unconscious body, "are you going to help me?" Ghost walks to the bed, a small chuckle escaping from behind his mask. "You really should stop rolling your eyes at people" he grunts lifting Vlad on his own. This is the closest you've ever been to Simon, he smells like cigarettes and sandalwood. The heat radiating from his body surprises you, you expected him to be just as cold as his heart. "Or what L.T?" you challenge. "One day you may get punished" he whispers, that same look in his eyes from last night.

Getting Vlad's body back to the safe house proves to be a little bit more difficult than expected and takes the better part of an hour to move him. Once you're both safely behind the doors of the house you finally take a breath, the mission went off without a hitch. Ghost grabs a chair from the kitchen and ties Vlad's hands behind his back and to the chair. Swiftly, he moves down to the ground and ties the mans feet to the chair. "I'm going to take a shower" you yell across the house, watching Ghost closely while he is on comms with base calling for evac. "Evac will be here in 3 hours, don't use all the hot water Princess" he yells back. You stop dead in your tracks, that damn nick name getting under your skin yet again. Turning to look at him directly, you reach behind you and unzip your dress again, letting it fall to your ankles before you step out of it and you roll your eyes before you turn back to go down the hallway to the bathroom.

Ghost's speed surprises you as you're not even 3 steps down the hall before he has caught up to you and shoved you against the wall. Your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of his hands on your neck and waist. It feels like your body is on fire, an inferno spreading through your skin and deep into your bones. "I told you to stop rolling your eyes at me" he growls into your ear. No one, certainly not a man has ever had the audacity to touch you like this and it turns your head into a foggy wasteland. You've lost all power in this situation and you know it, your heart beating so hard it might just come out of your ribcage. Suddenly you become acutely aware that you're in nothing but a bra and panties with your superior office pushing you up against a wall.

Your eyes dart up to meet his, dark and dangerous like the ocean. His breathing is heavy, like he's trying hold in some caged beast. "I told you, you would be punished" he whispers lustfully in your ear. "Bathroom, now" he commands, releasing you from his iron clad grip and spinning you towards the bathroom with a harsh smack on your ass that makes you gasp. Brain too foggy to disobey you head shakily to the bathroom, mind spinning on what's about to happen. You open the door and mindlessly turn on the shower. In moments Ghost is at the door in his too tight t-shirt and cargo pants, shedding his tactile gear in the hallway behind him. His eyes are watching your face as he slides off the mask.

The mask drops to the floor and you drink in the sight before you. Simon has never taken off his mask near you, he'd done so for the rest of 141 but never for you. He's absolutely stunning, dark ocean eyes, with a strong jawline and perfect cut brown hair. You drink in the sight of him like a man lost in the desert finding an oasis. This image of him forever seared into your mind. Before you have the chance to say something he rips off his shirt and charges towards you planting a heavy kiss on your lips. It's full of lust and just a bit of whiskey. Bourbon you note. He swiftly removes your bra clasp with one hand, the other is down massaging you through the thin lace panties. A moan escapes your mouth before you can stop it. This man has made the past few months of your life an absolute living hell and yet here he is, about to give you all the pleasure in the world.

His calloused hands immediately find your clit like he had a map of your body. You gasp as he rips your panties clean in half and begins to rub between your soaking folds. His other hand finds his belt and rips it off, unbuttoning his pants and letting them drop to the floor. You allow yourself a peak down at him and the sheer size of his cock causes you to lose your breath. There is no way that is going to fit. "Don't worry Princess, it'll fit" he chuckles as if reading your mind. He shoves you into the shower and up against the cool tile. The combination of the hot water and his burning touch isn't cooled by the feeling of the shower tile on your back, your whole body is on fire. You close your eyes trying to control the temperature of your body.

Suddenly you feel two fingers inside of your cunt causing you to suck in the steamy shower air. "Fuck" you hiss, the size of his two fingers alone makes you feel full. "You're absolutely soaked Princess" he muses, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. Your eyes fly open to and you're about to tell him to take this Princess shit and shove it up his ass when he slides a third finger in, causing every coherent thought to fly out of your head. Your thoughts are consumed with him and only him. "So beautiful" he mutters between heavy breaths.

"Ready Princess?" he asks, flipping you so your face up against the tile. Your brain still a muddy mess all you can do is wiggle your ass towards him in response, which makes him chuckle. "Such a needy girl" he muses. He slides his cock in-between your folds, teasing you as you grind yourself back further into him. He grabs onto the back of your neck to halt your movements as he slowly slides himself into you, "Good girl" he whispers into your ear. He's not even halfway in and you feel so full that you're going to burst. "Shit Simon" you moan, and that does something to him. The sound of his name coming out of your mouth full of lust and not hatred snaps every ounce of self control he has and he thrusts himself all the way into you. You slam your hand against the wall and let out a yelp.

He fucks you slow, methodical, like he's made a plan in his head and has to stick to it. It doesn't take much for the coil in your stomach to begin to tighten, and he can feel it in the fluttering of your walls. "Touch yourself for me Princess" he commands, voice breathless from the feel of you around him. At this point you're too cock dumb to disobey anything he says and you want to cum so badly that your hand darts down and begins slow circles on your clit in time with his thrusts. Seconds later the white hot coil snaps and you cum all over him as he fucks you through your orgasm whispering about how pretty you look taking his cock like this. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this" he growls into your ear.

Once he knows you've cum, his pace picks up. It becomes relentless, harsh almost painful but God does it feel amazing. You've never been fucked like this, never actually cum from being fucked and its got you so stupid. The hand around your neck tightens slightly and you begin to see stars as another orgasm creeps upon you. "Fuck Princess, you're so tight" he moans, and that's it takes for the coil to wind and snap. "Fuck Simon ohmygod" you scream, the pleasure completely blinding you. You hear what sounds like a growl come from his mouth as you feel him cum inside you, cock twitching as it spews his thick seed deep inside your womb. His head rests on your shoulder and you hear the sound of him panting. He flips you back around facing him, he wants to see that cock dumb look on your face. He smiles and kisses you, tongue slipping between your teeth and dancing around the cave of your mouth. He bites your bottom lip with one final harsh kiss and looks you in your eyes and says

"Fuckin' hell Princess, what hav' you done to me?"

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost fanfiction #mw2 #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #enemies to lovers #simon riley smut

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agentsofmarvel · 1 year

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some of my favorite agents of shield fun facts (season 2 edition)

part two!!! [part one is on my page!]

- to show the difference of coulson as the director of shield instead of an agent, they specially tailored each suit, used expensive slim ties, and even tailored his collar to make it higher. they also only made five suits for clark to wear the entire season.

- the cast and crew loved simon kassianides as bakshi so much that they kept his character in the story much longer than planned. he ended up dying five episodes after he was originally supposed to.

- in the episode “Face to Face” where coulson and may are undercover at the party, they made may’s undercover personality based on ming-na wen’s actual personality. a lot of the scenes of may at the party hanging out were unscripted.

- the writers modeled coulson in season two after nick fury, as the new director of shield. the writers made his previous role as a high ranking agent protective of the younger agents more akin to may’s character.

- bobbi wears blue, black, and grey constantly to represent her comic book mockingbird suit. she wears red two twice: while undercover at hydra & when she’s in japan (where she’s pretending to still work for hydra) to show the contrast in her undercover persona and real self.

- the crew and writers modeled the ward family somewhat after the Kennedy’s…what.

- the episode where ward confronts his past is called “The Things We Bury” which is a play on words for a book called “The Things They Carried”, which is a book written about the Vietnam War from the point of view of a soldier (i’ve read the book for a class, it’s a true story).

- the cast (other than adrienne and henry) had no idea mack and bobbi were working for another shield until the episode for the script was sent.

- the day chloe found out that skye would be an inhuman was on the day in season one that an earthquake hit the set. SHE FOUND OUT SHE WOULD PLAY AN INHUMAN WITH QUAKE POWERS THE DAY AN EARTHQUAKE HIT!!

- chloe knew her character existed as a superhero in the comics since she got the role, but she didn’t know which one. at first she thought she could be she-hulk or even mantis but after researching comics she realized she was playing quake a few days before the writers told her she was quake.

- a camera typically films at 24 frames per second. in the scene where skye breaks out of the cocoon in the underground city in puerto rico, the scene was filmed at 1,500 frames per second.

- after trip’s death a lot of the cast thought he would come back again because they said it’s marvel and people come back from dying all the time.

- in the scene filmed on the football field in “One Of Us” it was actually 45° F, which was the record coldest day (at the time of filming) in Los Angeles since 1885.

- lincoln’s character was literally created to give skye a break. they literally realized she’s been through so much in one season that they wrote in a possible boyfriend to make her happy for once.

- one of the writer’s favorite scenes to write was the dinner scene between cal, jaiying, and skye.

- coulson was almost an inhuman. yep. the idea was brought up in the writers room but they decided against it because they liked the idea of coulson being the average man within the craziness that is shield.

this wraps up season two fun facts! i’ll probably post season three when i can!! i don’t really have any plans for the rest of the seasons though :)

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drunkenmantis · 1 year

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More cod related art dumb

#call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #oc operator mantis #my art #art #soapghost #ghostsoap

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skinnyazn · 1 year

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In the Bleak Midwinter

The sequel to this story: The Masks We Wear

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader Chapters: 1/5 Notes: brief mention of military grade hard drugs (I made the mistake of researching what the Americans handed out during the Viet war, do not recommend), graphic violence, gore, eventual smut in the later chapter(s) but we're not there yet lol, explicit content

The frozen landscape was soundless, not even a stray winter bird chirped, as you surveyed the small compound. Fresh snow was suspended over every tree and surface. The crumbling facades of the shacks all dusted in a hazy white. Your breath lingered in the air as you exhaled.

“Feels off,” you spoke into your comm.

“Agreed,” the gruff, Manchester voice responded through your earpiece.

Simon “Ghost” Riley. His callsign was fitting for a man as stealthy and menacing as he. On missions, The Ghost moved like smoke, an apparition with a penchant for death. Around camp, you’d feel his eyes on you, but then you’d turn around and there’d be no one there. And, like his callsign, he’d began haunting your waking thoughts too.

You can’t remember when it started—it’s only been a few months since you joined the task force. But since you started working together, had been assigned this mission together, Simon “Ghost” Riley had infiltrated your head—marked by one too many lingering stares and unnecessarily brushes of the hand when exchanging briefs. He’d insidiously worked his way into your thoughts, intentionally or otherwise: what did he look like under the mask, how would his calloused hands feel like under your shirt, what sounds would he make pinned between your thighs. It unnerved you. You didn’t mix business with pleasure. It was a susceptibility.

Your contracts were for your legendary tracking skills, propensity to gather intelligence, and ability to nail a target two and a half klicks away with a single shot. If someone needed a HVT stalked and scoped without leaving a trace, you were their go to. Which was how Kate Laswell reached out to you in the first place. She said there was a team, the 141, who needed help with a particular illusive target. Kept slipping through their fingers. The pay was good (of course, coming from the CIA), so you agreed to hunt for them. What you hadn't accounted for was their towering, beautiful phantom: Simon.

“Walk me through it, Jag.” The Brit’s voice cracked over the comm, interrupting your thoughts. Jag; Jaguar. You ignored the way your name rolled off his tongue.

She needs a callsign, Ghost.

Why do I need a callsign?

Cause everyone on the team gets a callsign! And it has to match. Can’t be something dumb, like Barbie.

Why can’t I be Barbie?

Cause you’re not blonde. Take me for example: got mine for my aptitude to clean a room, all spick and span like. And Ghost’s is… well, just look at the bastard.

Fine. Then what’s my callsign?

Mantis.

Nah, doesn’t fit her.

Jaguar? …You know, cause you’re smart, stealthy.

A smooth ride?

Dangerous.

Jesus, you two. Alright. Jaguar it is.

Your frozen fingers pressed your comm. “It’s too quiet, Ghost. We saw vehicles on the drive up, but there’s nobody in the town, not even a single light on.”

Months of hard work and intel pointed to this village on the outskirts of Kokshetau. The perfect place to lay low, forgotten by the world. The perfect place for an ambush.

“It shouldn’t be this quiet.”

Ghost was on the rooftop three buildings to your left, assessing the area too. You’d parked the jeep a mile and a half outside of town, in the forest, and trekked the remainder of the way through the bleakness. Every shell of a building you passed in this liminal village was vacant; it was like walking through an unsettling dream.

“Intel said he’d be here, right?” Ghost spoke. “You and Laswell traced him to these coordinates?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s gotta be here.” Ghost breathed into the comm. “I’m gonna to do an interior sweep. Eyes sharp; watch my six.”

Your thumb pressed down. “Copy.”

Tactically, it made the most sense. You were both snipers, but Ghost was a bear of a man. He towered over you and was build like a god. He’d hold up a lot better in a close-quarters ambush. Plus, this was his mission with the 141. You’d been key in tracking him here, but your specialty was picking off targets from afar. They wouldn’t even feel the tack of the shot that painted the snow with their pink matter. Wouldn’t hear the bullet that would breach the stillness of this place. But that only worked if they were out in the open, or visible through the decay of the buildings.

You followed Ghost through your scope as he climbed down from the roof. His winter camo was an efficient cover. It hooded his black balaclava with signature skull well. Ghost maneuvered through the buildings like a shadow.

“Clear,” he whispered through the mic with each sweep.

You flexed your hands to keep the blood circulating and the cold from seeping in. The fleece gaiter irritated your reddening nose. He’d gone through three buildings already. Patience was a strong suit of yours, but this waiting and watching left a burning in your tense shoulders. Part of you wished there was more backup, but Price wanted to keep it lean and quiet. Don’t want to spook the target with three in a car, should anyone be watching. It was a shit idea when there was already a towering, beast of a man wearing tactical gear and a skull for a face driving.

Ghost entered the fourth building below.

It was two stories, which left your heart beating a little faster than before. You were timing his previous sweeps. They were all one-story structures but Ghost was thorough and efficient; each sweep was just under a minute.

Your eyes flicked to the watch on your wrist. One minute, twenty three seconds. You didn’t have eyes on him from this angle.

“Come on,” you breathed quietly.

Two twelve.

“Come on…” you repeated, a little louder this time. You were holding your breath; knuckles white under the gloves.

You pulled back from the scope and scanned around the building. Stillness.

Two twenty six.

“Ghost, come in,” you whispered into the comm.

Three fifteen.

“Ghost, do you copy?” Blood pounded through your ears, filling the silence.

Three forty eight.

“Ghost, come in.”

Three fifty seven.

Unlucky, unlucky four.

The back door to the building burst open as a man—not your target and not Ghost—stumbled out. Bright crimson painted the snow beneath him. He was crawling now. You pulled the trigger. The sound of birds fluttering echoed in the distance.

“Fuck!” you cursed under your breath; gloved hands moved the sniper to your back. Your feet carried you quickly off the roof as you landed with a muffled thud; nimble hands reached for the pistol strapped to your thigh, quickly screwing on its silencer. Quietly, you rushed to the back door, stepping over the body and all the red. Ghost’s knife was embedded deep into his torso. You pressed your shoulder against the crumbling facade. Sharp breathe in. You whipped your pistol into the room as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a body in a pool of blood near the front door, and a trail from the man you shot leading upstairs.

You stuck to the shadows, keeping silent as you peered up the steps. There was scuffling above. Deep breathe out. Your boots crunched over the concrete bits littering the stairs.

In your line of work, a second was the precipice between a grazed bicep or splatter of the head; between bleeding out or staying alive. So when you reached the top of the of the stairs, you had exactly one second to process everything before your fired your pistol twice: one to the shoulder, one to the head.

Ghost was bleeding all over the floor, struggling to right himself from his post-strangulation daze. Your target was supine next to him, twitching the last seconds of his life away. He was a hulk of a man, like the lieutenant. Quite the fight. You scurried to Ghost.

“Got me good on the head,” he wheezed. A concrete cinderblock was crumbled on the floor around him. Ghost’s skull-plate mask was cracked and there was blood dripping over his left eye. You surveyed the rest of his body: stab wounds in his bicep, a knife lodged in his right thigh.

You reached into your vest to pull out bandages to tourniquet the arm and leg. Your eyes stayed on the stairs as you synched it over his thick clothes, hoping it was tight enough.

“Knife stays in until we get you to a medic.” You reached for his mask. His large hand gripped your wrist with intense pressure.

“Mask stays on.”

Blood already darkened the fabric of his mask. You just hoped it would clot against the cloth. He released you as you reached into your vest and procured a vial.

“Need you to take this.”

Ghost grunted as he lifted the bottom of his balaclava clumsily and swallowed its contents. “What is it?”

“Amphetamine. Can you stand?”

“Christ,” he slurred.

You shifted under his right shoulder. “On three,” you wrapped his massive arm over you. He was heavy. “One, two, three.”

He groaned as you got him up. The sound etched itself into your brain. In any other situation, you’d beg him to make that sound again. For a split second you wondered if that’s what he sounded like when he—god, what the fuck was wrong with you?

“Fffuck!” he ground out. His weight pressed into your shoulder. Blood was soddening his pants where the knife was lodged.

“I need your help down these stairs, Ghost,” you said solidly as he hobbled with you. “Gonna be a gentleman and help me out?”

“‘M always a gentleman.”

The drug must have kicked in because he wasn’t leaning as heavily on you as before. You radioed Price as you struggled down the steps.

“Price,” you strained, “target is down. Need an emergency EVAC. Ghost is in bad shape.”

“Copy that,” his voice crackled over the radio. “Can you reach the backup rendezvous? I can’t land a chopper that close to the village.”

It was just under half a klick away. You looked at Ghost. He grunted. You doubted.

“Copy, on our way,” you confirmed, finally reaching the last step before the solid ground of the first floor.

Ghost was more coherent now; the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins. You helped him toward the back door that was still ajar. Dull winter light from the outside illuminated its silhouette on the floor.

“Stay,” you whispered, gripping the cold pistol again. He leaned heavily against the wall. You peaked your head through the opening.

The crunch of snow gave away the man outside who was surveying the top of the buildings—looking for the sniper. Looking for you. It was a clean shot to the back of the head, and his body crumpled to the snow. You hoped that was the last of them as you grabbed Ghost again.

“Let’s go.”

______

To your surprise, you made it farther than you expected before Ghost started to stumble. A steady trail of red saturated the endless white behind you. It was too much blood.

“Come on, big guy. Almost there.”

He stumbled again, falling into the snow this time. He rolled halfway onto his back.

“Jus’ need a second,” Ghost groaned out. Heavy lids and blonde lashes obscured those pretty brown eyes of his.

“No, no, no, Simon,” you bent over and whispered, “we gotta keep going, yeah? We’re almost there.”

He made an attempt to reach for you but his arm flopped like jelly. You hooked your arms under his shoulder and started to drag him through the dense snow.

“Hey, stay with me. Don’t give in to that concussion. That’d be a stupid way to die.”

“Sorry, sweet’eart.” His head started to lull to the side.

“Simon,” you growled as you continued dragging his body. “Eyes open.” Christ, he was so heavy.

“Tryin’.”

“That’s an order,” you huffed.

Your heavy breathing permeated through the silent forest. Time stretched on.

“I…” Simon’s head flopped back against your chest. His lashes fluttered as his eyes desperately tried to focus. Blood clotted over his left eye. “Don’t take orders… from you.”

“You do. When I’m dragging. Your fucking heavy ass. Through the snow.” Each sentence was a struggle. You were 5’6” and nearly 130 pounds of lean prowess. But Simon was a colossus. And dragging his dead weight through the thick snow for the past fifteen minutes had every tendon in your body screaming. Your lungs burned.

In the distance, sounds of the helicopter circling finally breached the trees. You looked behind you. The landing zone was still a couple hundred yards away.

“Stay with me, Simon,” you whispered against the crown of his head. Your quads seared with every backward step.

“Leg’s numb,” he managed.

Not good.

“That’s just the cold.”

You wanted to cry from the fire that encompassed every cell in your body. You were burning up; sweating. Every muscle strained to the max. You looked behind you. Almost there.

Simon’s head lulled forward again.

“Make you a deal,” you panted. The whirring of the helo was louder now. “You stay alive. And I’ll tell you one of my biggest secrets.”

Finally in the clearing, the snow fanned across your back. Two medics rushed from the helicopter toward you with a stretcher. They started strapping Ghost down as you nearly collapsed from overexertion right there. Price’s arm wrapped around you as he hurried you back to the copter, shouting over the comms.

The metal of the floor was cold against your face as you collapsed. The helicopter ascended. Price was hovering over the stretcher, and red crosses on white patches blurred as you finally succumbed to your exhaustion.

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