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mivalyn · 3 days ago

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꒷꒦ Steamy relief ꒦꒷

18+, mdni!

Ghost x fem!reader

Cw: unprotected sex, smut

!Requests are open!

Word count: 1,177

It was raining heavily outside, when you finally stumbled through the door after a grueling shift at the hospital. The cold rain had seeped through every layer of clothing, clinging to your skin and sending chills down your spine. Your hair stuck to your face in damp tendrils, and your shoes squished uncomfortably with each step. The warm glow of your home felt like an oasis, but nothing compared to the sight of your boyfriend, Ghost, rushing toward you from the kitchen the moment he heard the door open.

“Hey,” you greeted him softly, your voice a little shaky as your teeth chattered. Water dripped from the hem of your coat onto the floor, forming a small puddle at your feet.

Ghost’s eyes immediately softened with concern as he took in your soaked state. Without a word, he grabbed a towel that had been casually thrown over the back of the sofa and wrapped it snugly around your shoulders. His large hands rubbed your arms gently through the towel, trying to coax some warmth back into you.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice laced with worry. “Come on, honey, let’s get these wet clothes off you. Would you like to take a warm shower right now?”

“Yes, that would be great,” you replied, your voice quivering slightly from the chill that had settled into your bones. “I’m freezing.”

Then, with a hopeful tilt of your head and the softest, most pleading eyes you could muster, you added, “Will you shower with me?”

Ghost’s lips curved into a smile, the kind that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you saw it. “Of course,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. He could never resist your puppy-dog eyes, and you both knew it. “I’ll just finish up dinner real quick. You go ahead, undress, and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be right there.”

Before heading back to the kitchen, he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered for just a moment, his presence grounding you after the whirlwind of your shift and the chaos of the storm outside.

You shuffled to the bathroom, your fingers fumbling as you peeled off your rain-soaked clothes. Each article hit the floor with a damp thud, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief as you stood naked in the warm, steamy air of the bathroom. The thought of Ghost joining you made your heart beat a little faster, a flicker of anticipation warming you from the inside out.

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open behind you. You turned to see him stepping in, his expression softening further as his gaze swept over you. He didn’t say a word, just began unbuttoning his shirt, his movements slow and deliberate. His body, sculpted by years of training and hard work, was a sight you never tired of. His broad shoulders, defined chest, and rippling abs were enough to make your mouth water.

You bit your lip, unable to hide the way your eyes lingered on him. He noticed, of course - he always did. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he teased, “You must like what you see.”

“Oh, I do,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye. “But I know it gets even better. I love your broad thighs... and that big, uncut cock of yours the most.”

His chuckle was low and rich, sending a thrill down your spine. “Good to know,” he murmured, kicking off the last of his clothes. “Come on, let’s get in the shower. You need to warm up... and I think I can help with that.”

The heat in his voice was unmistakable, and it made your pulse quicken. He guided you under the shower’s warm spray, his hands steadying you as the water cascaded over your chilled skin. The warmth was instant relief, but it was nothing compared to the way his touch felt as he reached for the soap and a washcloth.

Ghost moved with purpose, his hands gentle yet firm as he lathered the soap and began washing you. His fingers brushed over your shoulders, your arms, and your back with care, but when he moved lower, his pace slowed. When his hands found your pussy, his touch became deliberate, his fingers teasing your folds while his thumb pressed lightly against your clit.

“You’re so ready for me, baby,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He lifted you effortlessly, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he pulled you against him. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructed, his deep voice sending shivers through you.

You did as he said, your arms wrapping around his neck as you felt the tip of his cock press against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside, stretching you inch by inch until he was fully seated within you. The sensation was overwhelming, your body arching as you gasped his name.

Ghost began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one sending sparks of pleasure through you. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he poured all his love and passion into the moment. He shifted his angle slightly, and the next thrust had you crying out as he hit your g-spot perfectly.

Your moans grew louder, echoing off the tiled walls as he quickened his pace. The pressure building inside you was unbearable, and you clung to him desperately, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you chased your release.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with need.

And you did. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you trembling in his arms. Ghost followed moments later, his pace faltering as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing as he spilled into you.

He held you close as you both came down from your highs, his hands stroking your back soothingly as he kissed your temple. After a few moments, he gently pulled out, his cum dripping from you in a way that made you blush. Ever the caretaker, he cleaned you up, his touch tender as he made sure you were comfortable.

He carried you out of the shower, drying you off with the same care before dressing you in soft, warm clothes. His own towel hung loosely around his hips as he led you to the kitchen, where dinner was waiting.

As the two of you sat at the table, eating the meal he’d prepared, you couldn’t help but smirk. “We should shower together more often,” you said, your tone light and teasing as you winked at him.

Ghost chuckled, his lips quirking into that familiar smile that made your heart flutter. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice warm and sincere. “We definitely should.”

You both laughed softly before returning to your meal, the unspoken bond between you stronger than ever. It was just another moment in your life together, filled with love, intimacy, and quiet joy.

#call of duty #cod fanfic #18+ mdni #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #task force 141 #cod smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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drgnflyteabox · 3 months ago

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can't get much better

pairing: ghost / simon riley x fem reader summary: simon is forced to take some time off - he makes the most of it. tags/warnings: very soft, pregnant sex, size difference, softdom!simon- he's a masculine man who doesn't let his lady lift a finger :'), oral (f), one (1) butthole kiss, dacryphilia, daddy kink (sigh), minor minor foot stuff, allusions to injuries and chronic pain, title from an adrianne lenker song w.c: 2.5k

You try very hard not to think about it, but it's hard not to notice how massive he is.

Even shirtless, he somehow looks bigger, muscles flush with heat and exertion under the sun. He toils and breathes hard like an ox, working while you sit on the porch wrapped in his big flannel. Wearing his clothes is like being swaddled in a blanket straight out of the dryer, warm and nostalgic and syrupy with love. It leaves you feeling some type of tender. You're afraid of that feeling sometimes, of how soft it is and how soft it makes you. He could ask anything of you, and you'd yield like he was pressing his thumb into a bruised peach.

You have.

"How are you two?" Simon is so quiet when he wants to be. One would think he'd clomp like a horse with how big he is, but he can float like dust. It used to startle you, but you've been sinking deeper into the memory foam mattress of this life with him and it doesn't anymore.

"Tired, even though I'm not doing anything," you squint at him through the late afternoon sun. It haloes him like an angel.

"You're growing my baby in there, love. That's not nothing," his voice is rough, it always will be. But it's rough now like earth and soil rather than rough with pain and smoke the way he'd sounded when you met him.

You're feeling especially nostalgic, it seems, not like it's hard here. His hand is warm on your belly.

"I guess so," you let him pet you for a moment. Your stomach is swollen but not as big as it'll get, just enough to veto pants. A few months to go still. "How's your back?"

"Argh," Simon says, taking a heavy seat next to you. Dismissive and yet he groans a little when his muscles unclench. Classic.

You slowly reach up and nudge him until he's facing the field opposite to you, face toward the golden afternoon sun and his back to you. He's never asked you to do this, to take care of him, but it's your favourite thing in the world.

His back is always rock-hard no matter how many times you take your knuckles and fingers to it. Just a condition of a hard life lived for him, countless falls and impacts and pushing through injuries. There's a slight slant to his spine now that isn't there in the pictures he's shown you of his youth, but the stiffness is the same. You might've said he was born to be a soldier, had you not known him as a father. He could do both, but - you'd never say this out loud - you were privately grateful for this injury. It wouldn't take him out forever, but the recovery would be long. Long enough to get the homestead started, to get you pregnant.

Simon would never be completely still. This was compromise. Sweet compromise, a life started and time with him you could think back on the next time he shipped out. Making the most of things, he would always say. Making the time count.

"That feels good, love" he groans. Bending forward slowly, relaxing, he's like an aloof stallion finally accepting an apple from your hand. Acquiescing. Showing you his back. It's trust, and you savour it.

"I bet it does," you tease back, just a little. Your fingers are nimble and attuned to his specific aches and pains. "Are you hungry for dinner?"

"I'm hungry for something," he turns, slowly, hands reaching for your thickened waist. Huge, work-roughened hands. War-roughened hands, holding you like a delicate egg. Sometimes it feels like he's the only thing that holds you together; all your pieces, everywhere, until he's holding you.

Kissing him is a contact sport. It's his hands moving, cupping your breast and then your pussy through your panties, your own hands wrapping around his broad shoulders like he's the only thing keeping you from drowning. It's open-mouthed, breathing into each other. Impossibly, you get softer, melting like ice on a hot day.

Before you can lean back on the bench, he stands and lifts you with him. He's still hot from the day, damp with sweat, pushing you into the house while kissing you still.

"Simon-" you start, with no goal in mind. "Please."

"I've got you, love," he murmurs. He always does. Before you know it, you're laid back onto the plush armchair in your living room. Simon knows this is the most comfortable place for your newly-aching body. Affection swells in your chest uncontrollably and comes out through your eyes leaking down your face. Sure, pregnancy makes people emotional - but you're still embarrassed, touched by how considerate he is.

"It's alright, shh," he thumbs the tears at the corner of your eyes. His cock tents his work pants, aroused by them. "Let me take care of you."

The next words he murmurs are into your cunt, right over your panties, tongue laving over the already-wet fabric. "Just need your daddy, don't you?" You clench in tandem with his words, hot all over, skin prickling. He pushes your dress up, bunching it right under your tits.

It's reminiscent of how you spent the first night with him, on the very first day you'd met. Hurried, his big head between your thighs and clothes hanging off you still while he made you fall apart.

He's fucking good at it, too. Pulls your panties to the side and builds up the pressure with which he sucks on your clit, softly and then harsher until you shake. You've been extra horny lately, always wet around him and always so swollen. The scrape of his five-o-clock shadow against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh is what tips you over, clamping his head tightly and shouting your orgasm into the heady summer air.

"That all it takes?" Simon grins, chin wet, fingers moving from your hips to your pussy to gently rub along your slit.

"Give me a second, please," it's humbling how quickly you come nowadays. Quick and intense. Fireworks.

You set your foot on his shoulder and he turns towards it, kissing your ankle. Patience is rare with him, something come about only since you confirmed your pregnancy. You miss being overwhelmed by him, miss the nights where he'd guide you over the edge one, two, three times in succession.

He pushes now, just a little, not waiting for your go-ahead but watching you intently. His fingers spread your cunt in a V and he puffs a breath on your sensitive clit. You jump. He grins again, leaning down to lick you, using one hand to hold both your legs under your knees and push them until they meet the soft bump of your belly.

"Hold them there," he says. It's spoken not to you, but to your hole, which he spears his tongue into. You obey as you're helpless to do, holding your legs up and giving him an unimpeded view. It's more than vulnerable, it's not only baring yourself to him completely but giving him the authority to do what he wants. What you need.

Simon eats you out like it's a kiss, slurping you down and letting you leak until the evidence of your weakness to him is all over you. Your legs are wet, and it drips down onto your other hole. He pushes a thumb into your cunt, dipping it in and out.

"Needed me, did'ya? Watched me all day," he's so smug, sometimes. His lips find your bare foot, kissing your sole. "Been wet like this all day?" His other hand finds the meat of your asscheek, spreading you open further, letting the split of you open to him. He leans down, kissing your inner thigh, then your other hole. You whine and clench your pussy around his thumb.

"So needy," he murmurs, finally finally moving back to your clit. Flicks his tongue over it, something that might've been teasing before but is intense now. Your hands tighten against your legs, head thrown back.

"Oh please- Simon!" You shout again, abs drawing up, stars in your eyes. "Ahh- I'm-"

"I know, honey," his lips suction again around the hard little pebble of your clit, eating like a man starved.

This is how he likes you. Losing control, coming apart, helplessly vocal against the onslaught of his tongue. No matter how many times you've done this, it never gets old. The release almost always makes you cry, especially intense like this. You're wet all over, face and cunt and legs. He is, too.

"You still with me, love?" He pets your flank like you're a horse.

"Yes," but that's not what he wants.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl," and fuck if that doesn't always fill you with warm fuzzy energy. Wipes your brain, keeps you soft and floaty.

He guides you up and out of the armchair, lifts you into his arms when your legs shake too much. That electric feeling is still coursing through you, tingles in your extremities as they come back to life.

The hand he strokes over you is half affectionate, half proprietary. You've been his since the first time he laid eyes on you.

He reminds you of it as he sets you down gently on the bed, your hair a halo around your head and hands reaching to his face where you pull him down for a kiss. Hands find his shirt, pulling it off you, and then the dress. Fingertips touch the headboard, your arms stretching up, making room for him. Slips your panties down your legs.

It's a lingering, indulgent kiss. Breathing each others air, gasping into his mouth, he puts his elbows by your head and lays as much weight down as he can without cramping your full belly. He's as vocal as you, groaning and rutting like a dog.

"Ready for me, sweet girl?" He leans out of the kiss, sitting back on his heels. You nod, desperate and pulsing between the legs again like you didn't just come twice.

"Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't you worry," he rearranges you like a doll, turning you to your side and getting between your legs. A pillow is tucked under your belly, and he tests your flexibility by holding your leg tight to the length of his body. Your hamstring burns a little with it.

A hand holds your knee, another to your waist. His jeans scrape against your sensitive skin.

You focus on little details. His scar, touching his eyebrow and splitting through his nose, ending down by his jaw. The knuckles on his fingers holding your knee, and how rough the pads of his fingers feel on your waist. This man has never had soft hands in his life. Those same hands capable of so much force, so much violence, the very same that hold you and guide you. A shepherd, you his lamb.

The weeping head of his cock kisses your hole, catching there and traveling up. He taps it against your clit until you're tensing, whining, needy again. Tears down your cheeks.

He steadies you, pets your waist, guides his cock inside and it feels like you can breathe again. His mouth laves hot kisses over your ankle, the sole of your foot again, reverent and controlling all at once. The stretch burns - it always does, and maybe always will. Simon is just so big, thick all around and the mushroom head of him could always bump your cervix if he's not careful.

He's careful now, but only just. You can sense his control fraying, his hips driving forward steadily but his thighs tensing and his grip getting meaner. This is your favourite part. Watching him sweat, breathe hard, taking his pleasure in you.

"Yeah-" he cuts himself off with a long, drawn out groan. Deep, from the bottom of his belly and out. "Already so full of me, aren't ya? Can't get full enough."

You plead with your sounds, words out of your grasp. Your hands clutch at the sheets but it isn't enough. He's solid, he's your anchor, but he's losing himself in your cunt and you're free falling.

"Play with your tits for me," he commands, pumping faster. You're reflexively tightening around him, clit jumping for attention, squeaking each time he lets himself in as deep as possible and touches the mouth of your cervix.

Sunlight slowly fades on the bed, the last golden rays escaping out the window as you're bathed in dusk.

There's nothing to do but obey, hands finding your swollen breasts and squeezing. They've been sore and huge, like that week before you get your period only it's been a couple months. None of your bras fit anymore.

Simon appreciates it, he loves it. Has you cooking for him with your tits out, nipples peaked and pussy leaking. They bounce, now, stopped only by your hands pinching and twisting. It's insane - no one in the world could replicate the feeling. No artist, no musician. Electricity zips from your breasts down to your clit and shit - you might come just like this, untouched, just full of your man and fondling yourself.

"Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me. Fucking," he pants, leaning over you, bending your leg. "Pinching my dick, sweetheart. Your pussy's so fucking good."

The orgasm begins in your toes, tingling. Your muscles tighten, drawing up, up, towards your cunt, which is making obscene sounds around him.

Simon sees the signs, sees your eyes rolling and your body going taut. He abandons your leg in favour of rubbing your clit with two big fingers quickly, up and down.

"That's it, sweetheart, come all over my cock. Go on," his voice is a snarl, barely distinguishable as human, beastly. "Be good for daddy.”

It's like the crescendo of an orchestra, like a summer afternoon in august, like waking up without a clogged nose after being sick, it's - really fucking good. You're near sobbing, crying out his name, abandoning your tits to reach for him desperately. He meets you halfway, shuddering his own orgasm into you. The press of his hips against yours is better than buttered toast, the delicate press of his chest against yours as he lets your leg go is bliss.

"Si-imon," you slur, hands on his cheeks. He laughs and kisses your forehead.

"What's that, sweet girl?"

"I love you," you cry a little more then, feeling him pull out and lay next to you. You're boneless.

"I love you too," his arm reaches across you, pulling you into him. "Both of you." Hand on your belly again.

"That was insane," you pant. He barks a laugh against your hair. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, love," he kisses your forehead, petting your stomach. You can tell it's meaning, can feel the gratefulness behind the kiss. He's saying thank you, for staying with him, for making him a father. Your hand finds his, squeezing back a wordless reply. Of course, it says.

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