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boyfriend!simon riley and american!bimbo(ish)!reader
simon loves his ditzy, american girlfriend. how you make him repeat his words, sounding out the syllables because his accent's so thick, and voice so deep. though he thinks it's just an excuse for him to talk right into your ear, his voice several octaves deep, a rumbling sound low in his chest.
he loves your little american terms, the differences in your cultured upbringings in terms of slang, and lingo.
"'s futball, lov'," he'd murmur, a beer in the hand of the arm slung around the back of the old leather couch as you watched the game. his other arm would be across your shoulders, fingers creeping up your neck as he caressed your soft skin and lengthy collarbone subconsciously.
he'd huff a chuckle if he heard you mumble 'soccer' in return.
but it wouldn't be too long until he heard his own words integrated into the vocabulary, but only when you weren't laid on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders as he plowed his hips into your slick cunt.
your sweet, american accent just mewling his name so nicely from your lips, harsh contrast to the stinging pain your claws left in his scarred back.
it only earned you grunts in return, followed by a particularly harsh thrust, lewd, flithy sounds of flesh on flesh.
but pretty, pretty music to his ears after you'd been fucked stupid, a cock-drunk babbling mess. pretty american girl.
he'd call you a good girl for calling it 'football' instead of 'soccer,' and eat you out too.
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Sex is on fire- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW
Kinktober Day 14
Based on a request: I recently saw my husband in the yard working and fuck did he look so sexy. So now I can't help but imagine Ghost as my husband, working in the yard and there's a spontaneous fuck. He's hot and so is this idea ---- F!Reader, MDNI, 18+, smut, P-in-V, oral!sex, unprotected!sex, husband!ghost, wife!reader, exhibition? ----
A/N: we won't talk about the first time I posted this, got it? great, thanks <3
The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the overgrown garden, highlighting the faded stones of the path winding through it. He looks at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hot, huh? Well, I aim to please," he says with a playful wink, trying to match your lighthearted tone.
He spots the sledgehammer leaning against the shed and picks it up, testing its weight in his hands. Then, with a growl of effort, he swings it at the nearest stone, cracking it neatly in half. Simon grunts with satisfaction, sweat already beading on his brow as he continues down the path, methodically demolishing each stone. His muscles flex with each swing, rippling beneath his shirt.
He pauses after a few minutes, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "This is actually... kind of fun," he admits with a grin. "Cathartic, like you said. Feels good to just let loose and destroy something." He looks at you, his eyes brighter than they were earlier. "Thanks for this. For knowing exactly what I needed, even when I didn't."
He steps closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before returning to the path, ready to continue his destructive work. You bite your lip as you keep your eyes on him, “Mm, fucking sexy… wow,” you smile and lean back, god, does he look so sexy. “You keep going until you’ve had enough, handsome face.”
Simon pauses mid-swing, glancing over at you with a raised eyebrow. A slow, heated grin spreads across his face at your words.
"Oh? Is that so?" he asks, his voice dropping an octave as he sets the sledgehammer aside and stalks towards you."Watching me work up a sweat gets you all hot and bothered, does it?"
He reaches you and leans close, his breath ghosting over your ear. "Maybe I should take a break and give you something else to bite those pretty lips of yours," he murmurs, nipping lightly at your earlobe. His hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, the hard planes of his body.
"Or maybe," he continues, his voice a low rumble. "You want to join me? Help me work off some steam?" He rocks his hips against yours, letting you feel his growing arousal.
"I could put that tongue of yours to good use," he suggests with a wicked grin. "Keep me company while I finish tearing up this path." He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "What do you say, beautiful? Want to get your hands dirty with me?"
“I’m not picking up a sledgehammer, but I’ll happily get my mouth dirty." you wink. Simon's eyes darken with lust at your suggestive words. He grins wolfishly, his hands tightening on your hips.
"Mmm, now that's an offer I can't refuse," he purrs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Get on your knees for me, baby. Let's see how well you can use that pretty mouth of yours."
He guides you down to the ground, his strong hands supporting your back. Once you're kneeling before him, he steps back and starts to unbuckle his belt, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Remember, no biting unless I tell you to," he teases, his eyes locked with yours as he unzips his pants. "Unless you want to earn yourself a punishment later."
He tugs his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, his hard cock springing free. It juts out from his body, thick and throbbing, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, wrapping a hand around himself and giving a slow stroke. "On your knees for me, so eager to please. Such a good girl." He steps closer, his cock bobbing mere inches from your face. "Open wide, baby. Show me what that mouth can do."
“Fuck, you see… this is why I enjoy watching you,” you say before taking his cock into your mouth. You take his hand and place it on the back of your head. You look up and begin to bob your head, your eyes rolling back a bit, gagging but enjoying the thickness of his size.
Simon groans deeply as you take him into your mouth, his head falling back in pleasure. His hand comes to rest gently on the back of your head, holding you in place as you work. "Fuck, Y/N," he grunts, his hips rocking slightly to meet your bobbing motions. "Just like that, baby. Take it deep."
His cock pulses against your tongue, the taste of him filling your mouth. He's thick and hard, stretching your lips obscenely around his girth. You gag slightly as you force yourself down further, taking him into your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes but you don't pull away, determined to please him.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained with arousal. "Choke on it. Fuck, you look so good with your lips wrapped around me." He tightens his grip on your hair, guiding your movements. You relax your throat, letting him fuck your face, using your mouth for his pleasure. "Gonna... fuck... I'm gonna cum," he warns, his thrusts becoming erratic."Swallow it all, baby. Every fucking drop."
With a final, guttural moan, he releases, flooding your mouth with his hot seed. You swallow reflexively, milking him for all he's worth. "Fuck yes," he gasps, riding out the waves of his orgasm. "Such a good girl, taking it so well."
Finally, he pulls away, letting you catch your breath. You sit back on your heels, looking up at him with a satisfied smile, his cum glistening on your lips. Simon smirks down at you, his eyes hooded with satisfaction. He tucks himself back into his pants and zips up, then reaches down to pull you to your feet.
"Mmm, you're insatiable today," he chuckles, brushing a thumb over your cum-slicked lips. "Not that I'm complaining. I love seeing you like this - so hungry for me." He leans in and captures your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, licking the taste of himself from your tongue. You moan into the kiss, your body pressing eagerly against his.
"Fuck, I need to finish this path," he pants when he finally breaks away. "But first, I think I need a little more motivation." His hands slide down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly.
"How about you strip down and bend over one of these garden benches for me?" he suggests, his eyes glinting with wicked promise. "Let me fuck you right here in the yard, where anyone could see what a dirty slut you are for your husband." He punctuates his words with a sharp smack to your rear, making you yelp.
"What do you say, baby? Want me to split you open on my cock while you watch me work? I bet you'd love that, wouldn't you?" You nod eagerly, "Oh... fuck yes, I want that, I want that so bad," you say with need. What more can a wife say? No? Her husband looks so fucking sexy when he does manual labour and asks to fuck her in their backyard and she is meant to say no? Fuck that shit.
Simon grins wickedly at your eager response. He gives your ass another hard smack before stepping back.
"Strip," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And bend over that bench. I want to see that pretty pussy on display for me."
You waste no time obeying. Hastily shedding your clothes, you position yourself over the garden bench, your legs spread wide. The cool wood against your bare skin makes you shiver with anticipation.
Simon takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your exposed body appreciatively. "Fuck, look at you," he groans, palming himself through his pants. "So perfect, so ready for me. I'm gonna ruin you, Y/N. Gonna fuck you so hard you forget your name."
He moves behind you, running his hands over your curves possessively. Then, without warning, he drives his cock into you with one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
"Yes!" he hisses, gripping your hips tightly. "Take it, baby. Take every fucking inch." He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you relentlessly. The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo through the yard, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
"That's it, fucking take it," he growls, one hand coming up to fist in your hair, pulling your head back. "You love this, don't you? Love being used like a cheap whore by your husband." He angles his hips, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "Gonna fill this cunt up, pump you full of my cum. Everyone's gonna know who you belong to after this."
You moan, your back arches, “Oh… fuck… ah… ngh~” It's too fucking much but it is so fucking good.
Simon pounds into you harder, spurred on by your desperate moans. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises in their wake. "That's it, baby," he pants, his voice strained with impending release. "Cum for me. Cum on my cock like the dirty little slut you are." He reaches around to rub your clit in rough circles, sending you careening over the edge. Your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock as you come undone.
"Fuck, Y/N!" he roars, slamming into you one last time before stilling, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his seed. "Take it, fucking take it all." He collapses against your back, both of you panting heavily in the aftermath. After a moment, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his cum drips down your thighs. "Look at the mess I made," he chuckles, swiping some on his fingers and bringing it to your lips. "Clean up your mess, baby. Taste what I gave you."
As you lick his fingers clean, he tucks himself away and zips up. Then he turns back to the broken path, picking up the sledgehammer once more. "Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up?" he suggests his voice already back to its usual gruff tone. "I'll finish up here and join you in a bit. Maybe we can go for round two in the shower, hm?"
He winks at you over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the debris, swinging the hammer with renewed vigour, his earlier tension seemingly melted away.
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Monster (S)mash - Task Force 141 x Female Reader - Porn Star AU
Content & Warnings: Porn Star AU, group sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected piv, cnc, restraints, anal sex, double penetration, haunted houses, masks, knifeplay, creampie, multiple orgasms, cum swallowing
Word Count: 5.5k
A/N: For Kinktober 2024 (Group Sex)
On the set of Monster (S)mash, the monsters come out to play. It's your first themed porn film and it's set in a haunted house. You're eager. Excited. But you've never taken something like this on before. You're filming with four of the greatest names in porn, and you don't want to mess this up.
ao3 // main masterlist // kinktober 2024 masterlist
"Would you like to review the scene? Go over boundaries again?"
Kate Laswell, the Intimacy Coordinator, takes a seat on the opposite couch.
"I'd like a refresh," replies Johnny. "Now that I'm in character." He grins, gesturing at himself, and you almost laugh at how ridiculous he looks.
Johnny MacTavish, known in the industry for his many creampie videos, is dressed as a crazed clown with a red wig and exaggerated makeup. His clothing is nothing more than a black industrial vinyl apron covering up the important bits. Kyle Garrick, a connoisseur of the cam world, sits next to him in a fresh white robe with a Jason Voorhees mask sitting on top of his head, the elastic band digging into his skin behind his ears.
Kyle taps away at his phone. "I should go before you, mate." Kyle glances up and winks at you. "Since I’m up first."
You feel heat rush to your cheeks. Kyle is incredibly handsome—all four of them are—but Kyle has a gentle swagger that flusters you a bit every time he addresses you. The two others, John Price and Simon Riley, are still in the makeup tent transforming into a werewolf and a demon.
While you've been on various porn sets, this one is far more complex than previous films you've been a part of. Monster (S)mash is set in a "haunted house." You'll go room to room, each containing one of the four men before it ends with the five of you partaking in each other. Filming is expected to take all day and possibly into the next.
Kate finds a comfortable spot on the sofa and addresses the two of you. "Your scene takes place in a forest with a cabin. They'll be a fake machete. We're looking at knife play. Some c-n-c. A bit of a chase. What do you think about that?"
Kyle shrugs and then glances at you. "Sounds fun. I'm excited. But it's what you want." He gazes at you expectantly.
You shrug. "What we talked about during our meeting yesterday is good with me."
Kyle nods. "I remember."
"And we know the safe word and the non-verbal signal in case anyone needs to stop?" asks Kate.
"Apple," says Johnny.
"Three fingers with a wrist shake for non-verbal," adds Kyle.
Kate smirks. "And what if someone is restrained and cannot shake their hand?"
"Then three fingers will do," you finish.
She smiles, clearly content with that answer. "Very good." She clasps her hands and then pushes up from the couch. "My assistant and I will be standing off to the side watching and listening for a signal."
Rodolfo, the director’s personal assistant pops his head in. “We’re ready for the first scene.”
Kyle groans as he stands, returning the Jason mask to its proper place. The robe is gone and tossed onto the sofa beside Johnny. Kyle is completely naked underneath it all. You follow him out, robe still on.
"Head that way to mark," Rodolfo says to Kyle and then he gestures at you, beckoning you closer. "Stand here."
You find your mark and then remove your robe, handing it off to Rodolfo who politely keeps his gaze averted. Unlike Kyle who wears nothing, you're in a skimpy black thong that's more string than material.
“Quiet on set!” comes Alejandro Vargas’ voice from the director’s area. He’s standing behind a monitor, watching whatever is coming through on the camera.
There's some minor rustling before all goes silent.
"On three...two...one."
You stand just outside the entrance of the fake haunted house. Taking a deep breath, you count to three. Glancing over your shoulder, you deliberately stare off-camera, and then head inside. The camera moves forward as you walk, focusing in on the makeshift sign.
You will be touched, carried, restrained, played with...
The camera lingers on the sign for a few seconds before following you into the dark.
"Cut!" Alejandro calls out. "Let's hold there. Get her to mark two."
Rodolfo appears, gesturing toward the first "room" of the haunted house.
Each set is separated by curtains. With the lights on, it looks a bit silly, but during filming and post-production editing, no one will know that these scenes weren't filmed in an actual haunted house attraction.
As you step up to your mark, a tingle of excitement swells in your belly. You've always found your job fun and enjoyable, but this is the first themed film you've attempted. While the film crew and intimacy coordinator have solid reputations in the industry, the four men you're working alongside are known for their decency, politeness, and general kindness when working with others. During yesterday's meetings, they were incredibly focused, asking questions, and spent extra time wanting to know and remember your boundaries and limitations.
When you first started out, that was unheard of. You’d show up to set and hope for the best. Discussions about limitations and boundaries were few and far between.
"Going on three...two...one."
You enter the first room.
It's arranged to resemble the front of a cabin in the middle of the woods near a lake. The cabin is just a facade anchored onto a wall while blue lighting creates water-like ripples off the front of the cabin. The path to the "exit" is lined with two folding chairs, a metal picnic table, and a makeshift campfire with fake flame included. Ambient nature sounds play in the background, but it's only loud enough to create an unsettling atmosphere.
Slowly, you step around the two folding chairs and walk past the picnic table, glancing around in feigned nervousness as if danger lurks around every corner. That danger is just Kyle in his Jason mask.
As if summoned by your thoughts, Kyle appears. Standing near the makeshift exit, he is completely naked other than the mask and the machete clenched in his right fist. You freeze, holding up your hands in a placating gesture.
Kyle rolls his shoulders and neck. You hear the audible pop from where you're standing. He saunters forward, turning the machete handle end-over-end in his palm. Though you know the machete is fake, and that Kyle won't harm you, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. It fuses with your excitement and underlying arousal, sending your senses into overdrive. Your vision narrows, focusing on Kyle as he swaggers toward you.
"No," you whisper, backing toward the spot you entered from.
Kyle lunges, and you shriek, turning on your heel to dodge out of the way.
Spreading his arms wide, Kyle blocks your way forward. You step to the left and he matches your movement, the machete blade outstretched. While the two of you discussed this scene with the intimacy coordinator, the chase is entirely improvised. You don't know what Kyle will do or how he'll eventually trap you. The idea is thrilling, warming your body with heightened anticipation.
Stepping around the edge of the picnic table, you aim to dart around him on the right side. Kyle leaps over the fake flames and lands in your path. He swings the machete and you duck. The blade is nothing more than rubber, and his aim is purposefully wide.
As you turn away, Kyle follows, his stride casual and calm. It's infuriatingly sexy how sure of himself he is. And somehow, you're flustered by him, even as you try to make for the exit.
But there is no escape—and it's not like you want to get away from him.
Kyle's muscled arm catches you by the stomach. He hauls you against his chest, even as you wiggle and squirm, lashing out as if that will do anything. His strength is apparent in the way he confidently keeps you close, unafraid that you might accidentally clip his jaw with your knuckles.
The camera moves in as he brings the machete up to your throat, pressing the rubber blade against your jugular.
"Stop moving," he growls, the mask muffling the sound.
You cease your squirming, both hands grasping his forearm. The edge of the mask digs into the side of your face, and his hard cock presses roughly against your back.
"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks. The low gruffness in his voice sends a bolt of heat straight to your pussy.
You whimper, but say nothing.
Kyle lightly slaps the inside of your upper thigh. "Answer me."
"I'll be good," you gasp, the sting of his strike causing your muscles to clench, ass bucking into his pelvis.
"You'll be what?" This time he squeezes your thigh.
"A good girl."
He makes a pleased sound as the machete falls away and his arm releases you. Grabbing the back of your neck, Kyle uses his grip to turn you around, to force you to look at his face. With the mask, all you can see are his eyes. They're in shadow, but fuck, they're gorgeous.
With a final squeeze, Kyle forces you to your knees. His cock bobs in front of your face. Your lips part, but Kyle keeps a firm grip, allowing nothing. He is in control.
Your gaze is entirely focused on him. You have no idea where the camera is, and there is no point in looking. It's not your concern.
"Wider," he instructs, and you present your mouth to him, tongue out. "That's it."
The head of his cock taps against your tongue and then slides back and forth over its surface, teasing what's to come.
You want it. You want him.
Kyle's hand moves from the back of your neck to the top of your head. He fists your hair there, and then guides your mouth around his cock, forcing you to take every inch of him. The cool rubber of the machete presses against your neck. Your hands rise, anchoring yourself by grasping the front of his bare thighs.
You hold on as he fucks your throat. Keeping your gaze on the mask, you relax your muscles, focusing on not gagging. Kyle is more length than girth, and the head of his cock roughly hits the back of your throat with each stroke.
"That's a good girl," he rasps. "My perfect slut."
The praise is wonderful. Perfect. You hold on to it, humming with contentment around him, the vibrations making him shiver. In your peripheral, you notice the glint of a camera lens but you don't glance over. You focus on Kyle, and how eager you are to get both of you off.
Kyle is rough but not overly slow. He's careful not to go too far. His movements are restrained but controlled, and that only turns you on more. One of your hands slips between your thighs and you find yourself blissfully wet.
You circle your clit and then dive downward to slip one finger, and then two, inside your pussy. Repeating the motions only builds the oncoming orgasm like a viper hidden in a pile of leaves, waiting to strike.
"Are you fucking yourself with your fingers?" Kyle's question isn't meant to be answered. It's rhetorical. He knows you are. He can see it.
With his cock in your mouth, you're unable to answer. One watery tear rolls down your cheek and Kyle lightly taps the machete blade against your throat.
"Not being a good girl. Didn't tell you to do that."
The machete disappears. Using his grip on the top of your head, Kyle guides your mouth off and away with a wet pop. He drags you to your feet, and as you move to run from him, Kyle presses the tip of the machete against your stomach.
"Get on the table," he growls. "Now."
You glance over your shoulder briefly to figure out where it is. The path is clear—just a few steps and you're on it. Kyle prods you with another poke of the machete.
Moving backward, you eventually bump into the edge of the table. Kyle does not help you up but the top is just below hip-level. You get on easily.
"On your back. Legs spread."
The command in his tone is undeniable. You do exactly as Kyle says. The camera is directly behind him, following his forward advance. Kyle wraps his hand around your ankle and tugs, dragging you to the very edge until you're close to falling off.
Without ceremony or elegance, he tears away your thong and tosses it aside. Kyle lines himself up and thrusts.
"Fucking hell," he groans.
You moan loudly, toes curling as your pussy takes all of him. The stretch is just enough to hurt but entirely euphoric.
Kyle slams the machete down onto the table next to you. In seconds, he has one hand over the front of your throat and the other on your inner thigh, keeping you wide as he drives in and out of your body.
This is where he's roughest, and you don't care at all. It's delicious. Glorious. From this angle you can watch every corded muscle shiver as he moves.
And the eye contact.
Kyle won't stop looking at you. His gaze is firm. Heavy. You are trapped by it as much as by his strength. His hand on your inner thigh slides further inward until he's almost on your pelvis. The camera shifts to point directly at where your bodies meet just as Kyle's thumb starts rubbing slow circles around your clit.
The building orgasm shivers outward, stretching into your limbs. A sense of numbness comes with it, as if you're floating above your body. It lingers there at the heightened apex before crashing down around you.
Your body tenses—seizes. Kyle groans, continuing to thrust through it. His thumb keeps stroking, and the intensity continues, wave after wave flooding through your system until you near overstimulation.
Kyle's thrusting increases, a pounding rhythm that signals his coming end.
"Fuck," he groans, hand around your throat tightening slightly.
The fingers on your thigh dig in, and Kyle stills, his sigh a gentle rainfall. You feel your pussy flood with warmth as his release hits him. You see the shudder, watch as his eyelids close behind the mask, and the keen pulse of his veins in his arms.
Kyle thrusts once. Twice. And then with a heavy sigh, grasps the base of his cock, stroking it as he slowly eases out. The camera comes into view, panning inward to catch the sight of his cum. Kyle keeps you still, gaze lingering on you. He's waiting for the camera's retreat.
Just as it backs away, Kyle's grip on you loosens. You're the pretend, helpless victim no longer.
Gripping the machete, you strike out. Kyle avoids your terrible swing, and that gives you your change. Off the table and onto the floor, you rush toward the exit, not looking back though you hear his enraged growl and the swoosh of air as he lunges for you.
You disappear, nearly stumbling into the next room as the director calls for the end of the scene.
"Cut!"
You catch yourself before falling forward, a little breathless. Poking your head out from behind the curtain, the set team comes rushing in, moving objects out.
"Let's set the next scene."
As you step out, Rodolfo and someone from the makeup department rush in. You're offered your robe which you politely decline but accept the water.
"You good, love?" Kyle approaches, removing his mask, gaze expectant and observing.
"Yeah. I'm good," you reply, taking another gulp of water.
His observation isn't one of keen interest but one of concern. He's checking you over. Making sure he didn't harm you.
"I didn't hurt you?"
You're a little sore but it feels good. "No," you answer. "Promise. I'm fine."
He grins, relief clear on his face. "Thought I might have been too much."
You shake your head. "Not at all."
Rodolfo checks his watch. "Ready for the next scene? Or would you like a break?"
You cap the water and hand it to him. "I can handle it."
He nods. "Be ready in five."
After a bathroom break, a brief touch-up, and a gentle cleanse between the thighs, you're herded to the next mark.
"We're going in ten...nine..."
Your robe is removed and water whisked away. The camera is somewhere in the room already, ready for you to step out from behind the curtain.
"...three...two...one."
You emerge, knowing that this might be the scene you need to call a stop to. Not that it'll be Johnny's fault, but the place is absolutely ghastly.
It's set up like a meat processing warehouse. The room is bathed in red light. Fake bodies wrapped up in cloth hang from the ceiling along with a few hooks on chains. There are two "exits" covered in plastic strip curtains. One is a true exit and the other is where Johnny is supposed to emerge from, but you have no idea which.
The camera follows your forward movements as you navigate around the hanging set pieces. Against the wall is a stainless-steel table. On it are bloody body parts all haphazardly stacked on top of each other.
As you make it to the middle of the room, Johnny appears—not that you see him. You don't notice him at all. It isn't until he revs the chainsaw he's holding that you do. It startles you so bad that you stumble backward into a fake body, almost tripping on your own foot.
Johnny charges forward, much faster than Kyle. The hanging bodies, hooks, and chains are in the way. You try to push them aside, to run as you're supposed to, but it hampers your movement.
Johnny catches you quickly.
Cornering you between a trio of hanging bodies, Johnny circles the space, revving the chainsaw as he walks. There is no chain on it, but he doesn't point it at you. He keeps it pointed away from his body and yours.
Transferring the chainsaw to one hand, Johnny snags your upper arm, dragging you against him. You beat at his chest, the vinyl apron slippery when your skin makes contact. Nothing happens. Johnny is solid.
With his grip on your arm, Johnny hauls you toward the body-covered table. He sets the chainsaw down and then both hands are on you. Spinning you around to face him, you attempt to fight him off even as he restrains you, attaching handcuffs to your wrists with ease.
“Let me go!” you shriek, but Johnny only laughs. It’s manic and high—completely deranged. It’s wonderful acting. You’ll give him that.
With a sharp tug on the connecting chain, Johnny sends you stumbling. He steps out of the way, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp slap. You yelp but manage not to fall. The smirk on his face tells you everything. He’s loving this.
You attempt to strike out at him but Johnny is so much stronger.
Using his massive, muscled arms, Johnny wrestles for control, winning easily. You’re herded to the center of the room. At one of the hooks, Johnny lifts your arms over your head, hooking the connecting chain on the nearest one.
Everything stretches, but it’s not painful. It's a good stretch and just enough to keep you on your feet but appear as if you're hanging in the air. It's a great trick. You're on full display for the camera and for Johnny.
You’re facing away from Johnny, and you have no idea where the camera is. All you’re aware of is your breathing, and the swelling tightness in your muscles as the stretch starts to curl forth a gentle ache.
You’re hanging there. Untouched. Waiting.
There’s a gentle brush against the back of your thigh. You jerk against the touch, tilting your head to catch a glimpse of him. Johnny appears before you like a phantom. He steps into your view slowly. The red light bathes him in a blood-tinged glow.
Johnny grins, grasping your chin in his hand.
“Are you going to remain a good girl for us?” His Scottish lilt is sinful. You find yourself leaning forward as if you’ll kiss him. That grin softens, and then becomes a wicked thing.
Johnny drops to his knees before you.
His hands grab the backs of your upper thighs, lifting you off your feet. He guides your legs over his shoulders, hands adjusting to support your ass. Johnny’s mouth is on your pussy immediately, tongue teasing your entrance. The fake plastic nose he wears perfectly presses against your clit. It rubs back and forth against it as he devours your pussy.
The orgasm comes quickly and with sharp intensity. You scream out your pleasure, head falling back, eyes closed as Johnny continues to feast between your thighs. Your toes curl, the muscles in your lower back seizing and relaxing with each wave.
With a final lick, Johnny tilts his head back, smug with himself.
You’re gasping for air, chest heaving as Johnny returns your feet to solid ground. He ascends, hand undoing the ties that keep his black vinyl apron in place. He circles you as he does it, a teasing dance before it falls away.
Your gaze immediately drops, and fuck—Johnny is thick. There’s a decent amount of length but this man is all girth.
He palms his hard cock, gaze enraptured with the sight of you. Circling you like a predator, Johnny takes his opportunity to run his hands over your body, to touch everything. It’s been he comes to a stop behind you that the anticipation builds.
Johnny’s face presses against your neck as his hands grab hold of your hips. His cock rubs against your ass and then slides between your thighs. He rocks back and forth, coating himself in your wetness. The head of his cock pokes at your sensitive clit.
You whimper, and Johnny gives you relief.
With his grip on your hips, Johnny angles himself at your entrance. A quick thrust, and Johnny is home to the hilt. Your thighs are pressed against each other, and the thickness of Johnny’s cock is only intensified by the limited space.
He remains behind you, pumping steadily as you hang from the hook. Johnny’s hands on your hips delve, squeezing your thighs. He brings one palm down in a quick slap against it, your thigh jiggling from the strike.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he whispers into your ear, and you know that’s only for you to hear.
While Kyle was a bit rough with you, but Johnny is steady, his rhythm hitting all the right beats until you’re numb with lust. You fall into it, heading leaning back against his as Johnny as his way with you.
At his end, Johnny’s groan morphs into a whimper. He comes inside you, his grip tight as he holds you flush against him. A few more thrusts and then Johnny is pulling you, forcing your thighs apart to show the camera the mess there.
You expect a pause as the camera lingers there. What you don’t expect is for Johnny to put his mouth back to your pussy, to suck his cum out of it, to stand and force your head back, slipping his fingers between your lips only to spit his cum down your throat.
He grins at you, licks his lips.
This dirty fucker.
Your thumb finds the small button on the cuffs. Like everything else, it’s a prop. You press the button. The chain breaks as it’s supposed to. The moment your feet are flat, you take off, rushing toward the exit.
You hear pounding footsteps and then—
“Cut!”
Johnny almost knocks you down on the way out. “Shit,” he gasps, grabbing on to you before you topple forward.
“Take ten!”
A robe is thrust at you, and Johnny is pulled away as someone else shoves another water into your face and someone else fusses with your hair and makeup.
It’s the maze that’s next. This one is completely staged compared to the other scenes. At a certain point, you, Johnny, and Kyle will converge on a singular point. Johnny on one side of you. Kyle on the other.
When you’re set, you enter into the makeshift maze. You don’t need to go far. Just a few feet. Johnny is right behind you, every step heavy and loud as he navigates the maze. Only a couple striders further and you’re trapped.
Kyle steps out of the dark and you come to a halt. But as you retreat, Johnny is right there, blocking your exit. Their hands are on you immediately. You have no control. You give in to them, allowing them everything. It’s nice to surrender, to hand control off to someone else.
They move you into position. Johnny’s cock slides home, filling your pussy. Kyle takes the other side, and then you’re full in both holes, groaning loudly with each thrust. Your hands seek, fingers digging into whatever they can find.
Over your shoulder, Kyle pushes up his mask enough to reveal his lips. You go in, tasting Kyle’s sweetness. His hand grasps the front of your throat, dragging you in for a deeper kiss.
Johnny isn’t one to be left out.
As Kyle breaks away from the kiss, Johnny reaches for him, the two men locking lips next to your face as they both move in and out of your body. You drape your arm over the back of your Johnny’s neck, and all you know is the perfect way they fill you, and the feel of their lips against your skin.
And when it’s over, you’re a little disappointed that it couldn’t continue.
There’s another break—this one longer than the others. Kate’s assistant massages your muscles, and she checks in before the graveyard scene with John Price. You’ll truly need some rest before the final scene with Simon Riley and the rest of the men, but you can do one more.
But only one.
And it’s the easiest of the bunch.
There is no chasing. No running.
You play the helpless damsel, pushing at John’s chest as if you don’t want it. All around you is smoke and shadow. The headstones around the two of you create a little circle, almost as if you’re in the center of a ritual.
You’re put on your hands and knees on the ground, the fog from the fog machine swallowing up your hands and legs. Price is behind you, already pumping, already taking from you like the wolf he’s supposed to be.
The makeup department did wonders. They gave him sharp teeth, yellow contacts, and a partially transformed look to him. It’s brilliant, really. He looks very much the monster.
Each stroke is deep. John presses on your lower back, forcing you into a different position, pushing your ass higher into the air. Your legs widen and then John increases his pace, his pelvis smacking loudly against yours. Skin meets skin, and your pussy quivers with excitement as the orgasm builds.
You stroke yourself between your legs, leaning on one side to keep yourself upright enough not to slip. You’re slippery between your thighs, and you can’t help but trace where your bodies meet. Your nail grazes John’s cock, and he emits a low moan.
John grips your ass harder, and then he’s pounding into you, using your body like it belongs to him. You lightly bite your lip, trying to focus on your building orgasm. Each stroke comes with a spank, jerking you against your teasing fingers.
“Oh—fuck,” you mewl as your orgasm comes raging forward, curling outward.
John fucks you through it, growling like a fucking animal behind you. When your orgasm wanes, his hand grasps the back of your throat, holding you in place as he continues. All you have to do is sink into it, to grin with contentment and let him have what he wants.
There’s something primal to the way he holds you down and fucks you. It’s different from the way Kyle kept you in place or the way Johnny fucked you. Even in their roughness they were sweet. John is all business, and you’re perfectly fine with that.
His cock is fucking perfect, his dominating demeanor a soothingly sensual experience. There’s something to be said about giving in—to submitting.
But it’s after the extended break that completely alters your brain chemistry.
Simon is the last. The very last.
There is no chase. No true lead up.
This room is set in hell. There are fake flames, reddish-orange backlighting, and a throne. Simons sits on that throne, lounging casually, legs wide, his cock and heavy balls on full display. He’s dressed like the devil, but there are no plastic horns or dollar store red cape. He is perfectly painted in red and black. From his head are twisting black horns that curl up and back. They’ve given him red contacts and fake canines for a vampiric bite.
You are in his thrall, sitting at the base of his throne when the camera turns on. There is a leather collar around your neck connected to a silver chain that Simon holds in his fist. He lightly tugs on it, urging you forward.
Your hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly, coaxing him toward hardness. You tease the head with a swirl of your tongue before taking him into your mouth. Simon fists the chain, twisting another link around his fist. Every time you take him deeper, Simon shortens the chain further and further.
At first, there is no tightness. It grows shorter. Shorter still. The leather begins to bite into your skin. With each twist of Simon’s wrist, the leash shortens. It draws you closer to Simon, leaving no room for you to retreat—to get air.
Your nostrils flare as you breathe through your nose. Relaxing your throat, you suck him down, cupping his testicles gently in tandem with your movements. The only sound he makes is a grunt and you have no idea if that’s good or bad.
But his cock is hard. Solid. You can’t take all of him or you’ll fucking choke on it.
He tugs sharply on the leash. "In my lap, pet."
You do as Simon instructs, standing between his legs before turning around toward the camera. You sink down into his lap, and Simon leans back, gently guiding you to straddle his lap, legs wide and draped over his thick thighs. He rubs his cock against your pussy, and then you’re sinking down on him.
John arrives from the dark, still in costume. He prowls forward, coming up to the left side of the throne. He grabs your wrist as he comes to a stop, guiding it to his cock. You fist John just as Simon thrusts upward.
Kyle arrives soon after. He kneels in front of you and Simon, teasing your clit with his fingers. It starts as a gentle stroke before his tongue replaces them, swirling little circles against your clit. Simon thrusts upward again, and your pussy clenches.
Just before your orgasm crests, Kyle’s tongue descends, stroking against the space where Simon’s cock intrudes. He descends further, lightly sucking one of Simon’s balls into his mouth. It’s brief. Just a blip. And then his tongue is back on your clit.
Your orgasm comes raging forward, but just as your mouth opens to cry out, Johnny appears, grabbing the back of your head, filling your mouth with his cock.
Your body is theirs to use.
Theirs to enjoy.
Simon thrusts upward, and Kyle draws back, his lips glossy with your arousal. He puts the mask back into place, and Simon lifts you off his cock. You’re picked up. Turned around. You sink back down on Simon’s cock, and Kyle is right there, adding his cock to your pussy. It’s an incredibly tight fit. They rock their hips gentle as John and Johnny touch your body, guiding your hand and mouth back to them.
One of them comes inside you—but you have no idea who before you’re full of just one cock. There are two sets of hands on your ass, bouncing you on whoever’s cock is filling you up. You’re simply clinging on, fingers digging into Simon’s shoulders. His head dips, the horns brushing against your cheek as his tongue circles a nipple.
John grabs the bottom half of your face. “Open,” he instructs and you do so, eagerly sticking out your tongue. John jerks himself until his cum explodes on your tongue. He tips your head to the side and Johnny follow suit.
“Swallow,” growls John and you do exactly that.
Someone groans, and whoever is inside you comes. You’re lifted off Simon’s lap, brought to standing, and then promptly bent over the arm of the throne. Simon’s cock returns to your mouth, and someone settles behind you, spreading your legs before sliding inside.
Every time someone comes in your pussy, you’re moved. Switched. Bent over. Spread wide. Forced onto your knees. You take it all. Enjoying every orgasm. Enjoying every touch.
As your energy fades, it is Simon that takes the final fuck, who brings you into his lap. His hands are firm on your ass, bouncing you up and down his shaft as the camera zooms in on it. You are lost in him—lost in the bliss that pulses throughout your body.
You are perfectly fucked.
Perfectly content.
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Girl Dad!Simon who had to get his newborn baby girl taken away from him because he was practically drowning them in his tears. (He denies that it ever happened now)
Girl Dad!Simon who went dead asleep after the delivery, it was unintentional of course, he wanted to help you as much as he could but his body just dropped on it's own. The worst part was is that he basically missed all of the baby's 'firsts' although he managed to wake up just in time for the first nappy change.
Girl Dad!Simon who spends a little bit too much of his free time staring at his daughter. It only worsened when you guys finally got dismissed from the hospital, you tend to find Simon crouching by the crib and watching the baby's every move pretty often. It's like bird watching, he says when you ask him.
Girl Dad!Simon who sobbed more than his daughter during her first day of school, was going to say the most melancholic goodbye but she just excitedly runs off to school and leaves her dad hanging.
Girl Dad!Simon who refuses to miss any important event in your life, no matter how small it is. Will literally call during a mission so he could see his daughter's piano recital.
"Simon? Why do I hear gunshots??"
"Don't mind 'em luv."
"How do you even have your phone right now??"
"Sneaked it."
#cod#cod imagine#ghost cod#cod headcanons#cod fanfiction#cod fluff#cod fanfic#cod fic#simon ghost fluff#ghost riley#ghost call of duty#call of duty#dad!ghost#girl dad#simon ghost riley#ghost#simon riley drabble#simon riley fluff#simon riley imagine#simon riley headcanons#simon riley cod#simon riley
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Birthday girl ᯓᡣ𐭩
a/n: in light of my girls birthday…thought i’d write this. @scoobywrites690, happy birthday mama. i hope you had the best day ever (and this makes it that little bit better)
warnings: SEX! BIRFDAY SEXXX. mixes up between rough n soft. oral (f rec), mating press?? ish? multiple orgasms,
Simon did anything he could to make sure he would be back just in time for your birthday. Sure, being in the military, you didn’t have much — or any at all — control over when you got to go home, but he still tried.
And thankfully, he did manage to.
On the day of your birthday, infact. Best gift ever, right?
You were still out, likely with friends or something along those lines, so it meant he had the house to himself for an unknown amount of time, so he had to do the best with what he can.
He ran to the nearby hobby store, where he knew there would be banners, balloons, all the birthday decorations.
One hand taping banners to the wall, mouth occupied blowing up a balloon and his other hand holding it so it didn’t just fly out his mouth.
He was trying his hardest to get it all done before you came back.
When you entered the house, bag draped over your shoulders, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being able to just collapse and watch a movie until you fell asleep.
You kicked off your shoes, throwing them somewhat towards the direction of the shoe case.
You wished Simon was here, it’d make everything so much easier for you. You understood his job wasn’t necessarily the easiest to get away from, anything but infact, but you could still wish you had your husband with you.
Switching on the lights, a loud gasp ripped from your throat at the sight of a tall, brooding man stood in the middle of your living room.
When you realised it was your tall, brooding man stood in the middle of your living room, with a dorky smile and a balloon is hands — you could swear you wanted to scream.
Wordlessly, you let the bag drop from your shoulders, nose scrunching as tears filled your eyes. You shuffled towards him, falling into his chest head first and wrapping your arms tightly around him.
He reciprocated — of course — his arms going around your waist tightly and practically lifting you off your feet.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” You whispered into his chest, sniffling away your tears. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry this year.
“I’d never miss my wife’s birthday.” He kissed the crown of your head, peppering more all over your forehead before reaching your cheek.
“C’mon,” He tugged you away from him, having to begrudgingly separate you two like velcro. “There’s more.”
He pulled you along, walking past all the banners and balloons, being led to the bedroom.
Rose petals led the way, his warm hand enveloping yours; and you gripped him just that little bit tighter.
There was candles lit, the ceiling light off so they were the only thing illuminating the bed, which was covered in various things.
More rose petals, some bath salts, bubbles, a large teddy bear (which won’t fit anywhere in your already cluttered, hoarder house), a few pieces of jewellery, some chocolate and fluffy socks. ‘Cause who doesn’t love fluffy socks?
You sniffled again, looking at all the presents he managed to get you in the maybe four hour span you weren’t home and he was.
“I know s’ not a lot, I didn’t know how long you were going to be.” He mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared at what he classes as a sad display.
You grabbed him by the shirt, tugging him down to your level a little, watching his eyes flick away from the bed to you.
“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”
Well, who is he to deny that?
He smiled before his head tilted down the rest of the way down, lips brushing hours before they locked in a kiss. A kiss filled with passion, longing, and need.
It had been so long since you had kissed Simon, that you almost had forgotten the pressure of his kiss entirely.
It started slow, sensual, soft. His hands drifting from your waist to your cheeks, thumb slowly stroking them. Your hands went from his chest to the back of his neck, tugging him closer and deepening the kiss.
The kiss went from slow and sensual to fast and needy, very quickly. He took a step forward, and you backed up until your knees hit the bed; not breaking the kiss.
He went to push you back against the bed, but got interrupted by your little wince of being poked in the back with a bottle of bubble bath.
He grumbled, taking the objects off one by one and putting them on the dresser, walking backing forth and making you laugh at him.
You pushed all the remaining stuff off the bed, hopping onto it and leaning back on your elbows, legs spread invitingly.
He smirked, approaching slowly and moving to kneel between your legs.
“Where do you want me, my love?” He asked, peppering kisses along your cheek before they drifted down to your neck.
You grabbed his wrist, slowly guiding his hand to your jean clad cunt, making a slow smirk form on his lips that you could feel against your skin.
“Can’t say no to the birthday girl, can I?” He practically purred against your skin before his hands fumbled at your jean buttons, tugging them down your thighs before he threw them to the floor.
Upon seeing the already forming wet patch on your panties, he let out a low laugh as his thumb ran over your sensitive clit through your panties.
“So wet already ‘n’ we ain’t even started.” He teased, dripping his head down to begin kissing your neck again.
“Shut up and just fuck me, ‘kay?” You hissed through gritted teeth, hand going to the back of his head to keep him where he is.
He hummed slowly, fingers tugging your panties down your legs and dismissing them else where, pushing your legs open wide before leaning back — getting a nice, long look at you.
“So fuckin’ perfect.” He groaned, hands sliding up your body and going to the hem of your shirt, pulling that off and throwing it, leaving you completely exposed to the cool air of your bedroom.
You shivered, before bucking your hips closer to him to try and find friction, letting a soft — almost pained — whimper leave your lips.
“Please.” Was all it took from you, and he was sliding between your legs until he was led on his chest.
Usually, he’d have you beg way more than that, but since it’s your birthday, he figured you can have it easy just this once.
“M’ getting to it, baby.” He said through his kisses he scattered along your inner thighs, big, strong arms wrapping around them to keep them spread open for him.
“Si..” You cried, head falling back against the pillow as you began getting impatient, hips attempting to shuffle towards him so he’d just fucking get there faster.
But unfortunately, his burly tatted arms kept you from doing such.
He ignored your pleas, continuing his kisses and occasional nibbles as he made his way closer and closer to your wet cunt, watching the way you tried to squirm and the way you clenched around nothing.
Keeping his eyes on you, he flattened his tongue and ran it up the length of your pussy, from your needy hole to your sensitive clit, causing you to let out a harsh gasp and a hand fly to his hair, tugging on it.
He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking gently and making your noises grow louder and more frequent, pulling him closer and putting your thighs around his head.
“Fuck, Si. Don’t stop.” You cried, heavy breathing and loud moans falling from your pretty lips as two fingers prodded at your entrance, the intrusion making you hiss softly before it heightened your pleasure — the same reaction you always had.
He watched you intently, slowly guiding his fingers in and out of you as his mouth lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning when you’d tug on his hair a little bit harder.
You lifted your head, eyes half lidded as you looked down to see him already staring at you, hips slightly grinding against the mattress below you.
The sight had the knot in your stomach twisting tighter, brows furrowing as your thighs began shaking.
“Si — Simon, m’ gonna cum, m’ gonna cum.” You whisper-chanted at him, and he just continued the same movements, not changing the rhythm of his fingers as they curled inside you, feeling your warm walls flutter as you grew closer and closer.
He pulled away, gently leaning his head on your inner thigh as he stared at you like a love sick puppy, hips humping at the mattress. Like a bitch in heat.
“It’s okay, love. Cum f’me, c’mon.” He cooed, giving you a little nod before his head dipped back down and lapped at you like a man starved.
If it wasn’t for the hot heat of pleasure rushing through your entire body and mind, the wet sound of him pumping his fingers in and out of you, and his mouth sucking at your sensitive cunt would’ve normally felt you embarrassed.
But you were too occupied to be insecure right now.
“Fuck, fuck. M’ cumming, m’ cumming!” You gasped, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you in harsh and hot waves, a long drawn out moan leaving your throat.
He nearly came in his boxers from the sight of you cumming alone, his eyes fluttering gently as they never strayed away from you.
Your body finally relaxed against the bed and his movements slowed to a stop, before he pulled away and kissed your pussy, then your stomach, chest, neck, jaw, and finally: lips.
You sighed softly at the taste of yourself against his tongue as he kissed you, his hands going to his trousers to pull at them until they were off him and on the floor instead — boxers following suit rather quickly.
Using your slick left on his fingers, he jerked himself off just a little before lining himself up with your entrance, breaking the kiss to watch.
His large hands hooked underneath your weak, trembling thighs, pushing them to your chest as you let out another sigh, head falling back and eyes closing as you felt his tip nudging against your clit.
He pushed himself in slowly, both of you letting out a low moan as he did so, sliding in with ease until he was buried to the hilt, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he forced himself to not cum.
He wanted at least one more out of you before he did.
“Move — please, move. I need it.” You coaxed him, hands fumbling with the bottom sheets as you tried to push yourself into him further.
“Mhm, I am, I am.” He whispered softly, voice comforting as he hooked your legs over his shoulders, ankles now dangling by his head.
His arm wrapped around your thighs, forcing them flat against his front as his other arm was supporting his body weight so he didn’t completely crush you.
He began slowly thrusting into you, easing you in as he was on deployment for a while and he knows your stupid toys don’t do it like he does.
He watched where you were connected, admiring the way your cunt so eagerly took him and swallowed him whole, triggering him to let out a low growl and begin increasing the intensity of his thrusts.
You mewled; hands clawing at whatever skin of his was available, incoherent babbles of whatever he can assume is his name falling from your lips along with loud moans.
He leant down, bringing some of his large weight down against you as he pounded your cunt like he wouldn’t be able to again, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could watch your pretty face contort in pleasure.
He reached his hand out to hold your cheek, leaning down to kiss you gently, contrasting his harsh and fast thrusts.
He felt your cunt flutter around him once more, and he smiled against your lips before pulling back, tucking hair behind your ear.
“You gonna cum again, sweetheart?” He asked you, watching the way your head nodded quickly and your hands reached out to paw at his chest.
“Mhm, mh— m’ gonna cum, fuck. I missed you, missed you so much.” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes as the ache in your lower abdomen grew and grew at a quick pace; jaw falling and lips forming a little o.
He smirked, holding your face and admiring you like he wasn’t ruining your pretty little pussy.
“I know, I know. I missed y’too, baby. Cum f’me, c’mon. Show me how much you missed me.” He groaned, feeling his own orgasm threaten to hit him at any second, and he just had to hope you came first.
And you did.
You let out a loud cry, mixed with a gasp as your legs locked around his waist. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arching so much that you were hardly even led on the bed anymore.
He felt your orgasm coat his entire cock, triggering his own as his thrusts grew sloppier, before he completely buried himself as far into your cunt he could and filled you up until you were practically dripping.
You both came down from your highs, panting heavily as he collapsed (but left his weight off you mainly) ontop of you, burying his face into your neck.
Your eyes closed briefly, before they snapped open at the feeling of his thrusts beginning again.
Looking at your face, he let out a low laugh.
“What, did you think your gift was over?”
#christi's girl୨୧#birthday girl!#christi's posts#simon riley mw2#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#simon riley#simon riley x you#simom riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon cod#simon ghost smut#ghost smut
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🔪🔪🔪
#happy halloween everyone!!#a treat 4 u all :>#butcher!ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost riley cod#simon riley cod#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod modern warfare#cod mw#cw eyestrain#cw eye strain#bressymbols
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simon riley as your bf/husband
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#ghost imagine#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley
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I can't stop thinking about how much you would miss Simon while he's gone....
This is a continuation of part one and part two.
warning: adult language
💀
You were dreading going to work. Your arms felt heavy as you applied your makeup with a pout on your lips. No matter how hard you worked at it, your eyeliner looked a little smudged and your lipgloss was dull.
Simon was leaving tonight.
He'd never been inside your apartment. He'd never seen you in anything but your work clothes. He only interacted with you on nights when you had a shift at the pub. But you thought about him so much, it was like he had seeped into every aspect of your life. But he was leaving, and you knew he wouldn't give you any details. But it had to be for work. A new military assignment. All you knew for sure was the gnawing feeling in your gut that he would be risking his life.
Most of your shift has passed before he squeezed his shoulders through the doorway and found a stool at the bar. There was a smile plastered on your face all night, but it wasn't until you saw him that it was genuine.
"Simon," you sighed, already reaching for a pint glass to keep your fingers busy when pure happiness bubbled up inside you.
"Hi, love."
Everytime he called you that, his soft eyes lingered on your face. You didn't know when anyone would look at you that way again. His drink was set down, and his money was pushed away. You wouldn't take it. He drank his pint slowly, glaring at any other man whose gaze lingered your way for more than the barest few seconds. Than you let him know it was time for your shift to end.
Tonight both of you were silent. When you reached for his hand, he wrapped his fingers gently around yours. When you stood on your front step, shivering in the damp night air, he wrapped you up in his grasp.
"Ya' be good, love. Take care of yourself." His voice was so deep and warm, you shivered even more. "Tell Soap if ya' need something. He knows to take care of ya'."
There were so many questions brimming in your mind, but they were all silenced when his lips skimmed along your temple. You whimpered before Simon put a foot of space between your bodies, an intensity in his eyes you'd never seen before. Maybe he already knew what he meant to you by this point, but you couldn't say the words as tears stung your eyes.
"Please stay safe," you whispered, and he nodded toward your door.
"Get inside, love. I won't be gone long."
But he was.
At first, you smiled when Soap or Gaz showed up at the bar at the end of your shifts. They weren't anywhere near as imposing looking as Simon, but you knew your ex boyfriend wouldn't be lining up to mess with either of them. They seemed to rotate who walked you home. Conversation was easy with both of them, and they never touched you. When you asked them about Simon, they assured you he knew how to handle himself.
But one week turned into two and then three. You were starting to worry. "Have you heard anything from Simon?" you asked Soap one particularly cold night.
"Nah. He'll be back when he gets back. Try not to worry too much."
You paused before you asked him, "What did he say when he asked you and Gaz to make sure I got home safely from work?"
Soap's face split into a grin in the glow from a streetlight. "Hey, now that's between friends, ain't it?"
You weren't exactly sure what he meant, but you could feel your brow pucker with concern. "You really think he's okay?"
Soap laughed heartily. "That feckin' arsehole ain't gonna to miss the chance to keep walking you home from work. Trust in that much."
You nodded and unlocked your door, bidding him a good night before closing and locking it as tears burned your eyes.
Next thing you knew, Simon had been gone for six weeks. It was hard to keep up the chitchat with Gaz and Soap when each time you saw them, it was a reminder of who was missing. What if he never returned? Who would even inform you if something happened to him? Were you supposed to fret like this and curl into a tight ball alone as you fell asleep for weeks longer?
You daydreamed about what it would feel like to kiss Simon. You imagined his warmth snug against you in bed, heavy arm wrapped around your body. You thought about his voice, rough but sweet, telling you that he felt the same way you did.
But two months was a long time to go without his meticulous attention. And while it made you ache to see him again, perhaps it was having the opposite effect on him. Maybe he hasn't thought about you much, if at all. He was probably busy working around the clock, dedicated to the task at hand. His mind wouldn't be on the silly bartender back home who could barely handle herself around him.
It was hard to smile at work tonight. It wasn't very busy now that winter had fully arrived. Everyone seemed to prefer to huddle up at home this late when the wind was blowing. You'd prefer to be there right now too, instead of pouring a double whiskey and a glass of wine.
You were getting really close to the end of your shift, and there was still no sign of Soap or Gaz. Occasionally they arrived just in time to walk you home, but usually they got here early enough to plop down on a stool for a drink or two. You were longing for your bed, and the idea of having to hang out and wait for the escort you probably no longer needed felt daunting.
Your hands were tired from polishing the glassware, stacking it up below the bar top to help you pass the time. When the door opened, the brief rush of cold air made you shiver as you turned to greet the newcomer. But he was familiar in a way that made a smile break out on your face as a shot glass landed a little hard on the shelf when it slipped from your fingers.
"Hi, love."
He was back. He looked terrible. Bruised cheeks and a black eye decorated his face, but seeing him in person was still better than your best daydream. All you wanted to do was touch him.
"Simon!"You rushed through the opening in the bar, launching yourself into his arms. "I missed you." Without thinking, you ran your hands gently along his face. Without another word, you pressed your lips against his.
💀
#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#ghost imagine#call of duty#ghost riley#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghostsprincess
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Right Next Door
Simon Riley x Reader
Summary : Your mysterious neighbour helps you out when a date goes wrong, what happens when you try to befriend him?
Warnings : Creepy guy, Simon Riley, Delusion
°•♡○° Masterlist °•♡•°
The air was biting cold as I climbed the steps to my apartment building, my heart pounding as I tried to maintain a polite smile. The date had been a disappointment from the start, but I’d wanted to see it through, thinking maybe I was just nervous.
Yet, every attempt to cut the night short had fallen on deaf ears, and now he was right behind me, insisting on escorting me all the way for my own 'safety'.
I fumbled with my bag, pretending to search for my keys. “Thanks for the evening,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint and turn around.
“Oh, don’t thank me yet.” He laughed, sidling a little too close, his shoulder brushing mine. “The night doesn’t have to end here, you know. Let’s go to yours for a nightcap.”
I forced a laugh, swallowing down the anxiety building up. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”
His face shifted, a flicker of annoyance crossing his expression. “Come on,” he murmured, edging closer, his hand reaching to touch my arm. “We had a nice time. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.���
I forced myself to meet his gaze, my voice firm. “I’m just… not interested in taking things further tonight, maybe another day.”
His smile faltered, frustration creeping into his tone. “What’s the problem? You were all smiles back there. Now you're not interested?"
I tried to step back, but he mirrored my movements, closing the space between us as I reached my door and closing in on me. "You know it's not fair to lead a guy on, right?"
My fingers finally found the keys and I gripped it tightly between my fingers, trying to resist the urge to ram it into his eyeball.
He trespassed the line even further as he leaned in, his gross breath burning against my cheek. "Just one kiss,” he muttered, his hand pressing against the doorframe to cage me in.
Panic flared as I shook my head. “Please, I’d rather you didn’t. I just… don’t feel that way.”
His expression darkened, eyes narrowing as he leaned even closer. “Teasing me all night just to leave me hanging, huh? That’s how you get your fun?”
I felt the words stick in my throat, my pulse racing. His voice grew harsher, thick with frustration as he got angrier. “You think you’re too good for me? That it?”
I barely had a second to process his words when a shadow appeared in the hallway, and I felt a wave of relief and fear as I recognized my neighbor—Simon Riley.
The big guy who had moved here a few months ago, aside of the few times we passed each other in the hallways, I rarely saw him. He was always quiet, I've never heard him talk and not a peep of noise was heared through the walls.
Something about his size and the dark clothing he always wore ( and the usual grumpy expression on his face ) had, for some reason, caught my eye. Maybe it had something to do with all the books I read with the typical older grumpy man and the sweet sunshine girl trope.
That trope was unfortunately a guilty pleasure of mine, having always wanted to feel safe, protected and taken care of by someone. Someone in whose presence I could just turn my brain off without a worry and know I'll be fine
Maybe those desires were born from my feelings of loneliness and my hard time in making friends. Maybe, it was because I wanted someone to love and accept me as I am and see me as me and still fully and wholly love me.
Sometimes, when I would just think and daydream of having such man, I couldn't help the flashes of my neighbours face in my mind. I wanted to actually love and be loved so badly instead of just imagining it, so I had decided to go out for the first time in a very long time, unfortunately I just ended up putting myself in this situation.
But, as I saw Simon standing in the doorway of his flat, right next to mine. His presence as imposing as ever, I was immediately swarmed by images of being wrapped up and safe in those tree trunk arms- ( valid )
His gaze was calm, but the tension radiating off him was anything but. He took a step forward, his voice low and laced with quiet authority that made my brain tingly in all the right ways.
“I think you’ve overstayed your welcome,” he said, voice gruff and cold. “Leave.”
My date turned, his confidence faltering for the first time, though he tried to laugh it off. “And who are you, her guard dog?”
Simon’s jaw clenched, and he took another slow step toward him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away. Now.”
The guy scoffed, glancing at me as if I would defend him, but I could only stare, feeling my pulse in my throat as Simon’s presence loomed, unyielding and almost terrifying in its intensity.
“Fine,” the man muttered, backing away with a huff. “Good luck with that one. She’s just a tease anyway.” He threw a final look over his shoulder, muttering curses under his breath as he disappeared down the stairwell.
I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my body finally loosening. My eyes met Simon’s, and for a moment, I was acutely aware of how close he still stood, the quiet strength and warmth radiating off him.
“Thank you,” I murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Simon’s gaze flicked over me, taking in my tense posture, the unsteady breaths. “Get inside,” he said softly, his tone softer but still firm. He didn’t move, just kept watching, waiting until I stepped back into my flat.
I wanted to say more—to thank him properly, to explain—but my voice failed me. I just nodded, stepping back into my apartment as he remained outside, a silent sentinel. As I closed the door behind me, I felt the echo of his presence linger, leaving me wondering who Simon Riley really was behind the walls he kept so carefully constructed.
°•♡•°
I leaned against my door, heart still racing from the confrontation with my date. What just happened?
I pressed my palms to my cheeks, feeling the heat rising in them, embarrassment crashing over me in waves. I wanted to scream at myself for letting things get so out of hand.
Why hadn’t I been firmer?
My date’s cruel words echoed in my mind. “Teasing me all night…” Had I really been that confusing?
I knew I had always had a hard time speaking to people, but I did not think I had been teasing or anything alike at all. In fact, I was pretty sure I was keeping my distance the whole night.
I sank down to the floor, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could disappear. It wasn’t the first time I had been made to feel this way, but it hurt more than usual. I hated that I had let him walk me to my door, thinking it would be harmless, but now, all I felt was a sense of violation mixed with anger.
But as I replayed the events of the night, my thoughts drifted to Simon. The way he had stepped in, fierce and unwavering, how his presence had made me feel safer. His intense gaze, the way he commanded attention without even trying, sent a flutter through my chest. Why did he even care?
In the days that followed, I found myself stealing glances at Simon whenever I heard him in the hallway or caught sight of him through the window. He always seemed so focused, moving with purpose and intensity that made my heart race. He was intimidating but also…protective. I couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself, confident and strong, making it hard to believe he even lived next door to me.
I found myself thinking about him more than I wanted to admit. What was it about him? There was something in the way he furrowed his brow when he was deep in thought, or how his lips curled slightly when he was amused, that made my heart skip a beat.
I’d catch myself daydreaming about what it would be like to get to know him, to see the softer side that lay beneath his tough exterior.
But would he even be interested in someone like me?
One evening, as I sat at my kitchen table, the smell of cookies wafting through the air, I decided I needed to make a move. Maybe a little gesture would help break the ice. I figured I’d bring him a treat and see how he responded. I hesitated, biting my lip as I gathered my courage, reminding myself that it was just cookies, not a marriage proposal.
After baking, I carefully placed the cookies in a small tin and knocked on his door, my heart pounding. I waited, second-guessing myself. What if he thought I was a silly little girl for doing this?
When the door opened, Simon stood there, dressed in his usual casual attire, the warmth of the lights behind him casting shadows across his face. “Yeah?” he asked, his deep voice grounding me despite the chaos in my head.
“Um, I made some cookies,” I stammered, holding out the tin. “I thought you might like some.”
He glanced at the tin, then back to me, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, though he accepted it without hesitation. The briefest smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, and for a moment, I felt a flutter of hope.
“I just wanted to thank you for helping me the other night,” I added quickly, my cheeks warming under his gaze. “You really saved me.”
He nodded, but the moment felt fleeting, like catching smoke in my hands. “No problem,” he said, his voice steady. “Just doing what I had to.”
And just like that, he closed the door, leaving me standing in the hallway, heart racing, filled with a mixture of elation and disappointment.
Was that all?
I turned to leave, feeling a knot of longing tightening in my chest. I wanted more than just a quick exchange; I wanted to be seen by him.
In the following days, I couldn’t help but keep an eye out for him. Each time I spotted Simon in the hallway, my heart raced, a blend of hope and anxiety filling me. I’d muster the courage to say something, anything, to bridge the gap between us.
“Hey, Simon,” I’d manage, my voice barely above a whisper as I tried to catch his eye. He’d glance my way, a quick nod, but his focus would shift immediately, and I’d feel that familiar pang of rejection in my chest.
Days turned into weeks, and I found myself trying harder to initiate conversations. I would catch him on his way to the gym or returning from work. Each time, I’d greet him, my heart pounding, and every time, he’d respond with a grunt or a nod. I wanted to learn more about him, to break through the walls he had built around himself, but he always seemed to have somewhere to be.
One afternoon, I spotted him in the hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. My pulse quickened, and I took a deep breath. “Hey, Simon! How was your day?” I asked, attempting to sound casual.
He looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he replied, “Fine.” He didn’t elaborate, and I felt a heaviness settle in my stomach.
“Just…fine?” I pressed, hoping to elicit more. “Did you have a busy week?”
He sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You could say that.”
I bit my lip, trying to think of something else to say, but the silence stretched awkwardly between us. “Well, if you ever want to talk or hang out, you can—”
“I’m not looking for friends,” he cut in, his tone sharper than I expected. “I did what I had to out of duty. Don’t think about it too much.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could only stare at him, my heart sinking as his gaze shifted, avoiding mine. “It’s nothing personal,” he added, but it felt cold, devoid of the warmth I’d hoped for.
“I understand,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. My hands trembled slightly, and I fought back tears as I watched him step past me, leaving me standing there, shattered.
I felt the weight of his dismissal settle heavily on my shoulders, a reminder of how invisible I really was to him. My heart ached, not just from his words but from the reality that I would never be more than an afterthought to Simon Riley.
As I stepped into my flat, the door closing behind me, I sank down against it, tears slipping down my cheeks. I had wanted to be seen, to have someone recognize my worth, but instead, I was left with the painful truth: Simon didn’t want me around, and that stung more than I could express.
Each encounter with him became a reminder of my own insecurities, and the ache in my chest grew heavier with each passing day. I felt lost in the maze of my feelings for him, unable to reconcile the admiration I felt with the reality of his indifference.
All I wanted was a connection, but somehow, it felt as if I was always reaching for something just out of my grasp, destined to remain alone while he moved on, unbothered by my existence.
#simon rileyn#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley cod#call of duty x reader#call of duty#cod x reader#ghost cod#cod#cod mw2#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost#simon riley angst#simon riley fluff#simon angst#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you
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Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally
#call of duty#incorrect call of duty quotes#incorrect cod quotes#incorrect quotes#call of duty modern warfare#cod incorrect quotes#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#cod x y/n#cod x reader#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf141 x you#tf141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x you#gary roach sanderson#roach cod#roach call of duty#simon riley cod#ghost call of duty
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imagine ur bd being out of the picture and your little girl running up to si ☹️🤍
“Daddy!”
Simon looked down, eyes wide at the little girl wrapped around his right leg. Johnny eyed him carefully. He was thankful none of the other café patrons paid any mind. “I’m not your daddy, love,” Simon said. He tugged his leg away gently but the strength of a child is hard to match.
“Annalise, get off that man,” a woman cried. In the blink of an eye, she knelt near Simon’s leg and tugged the child away.
“Dada!” She shrieked. Annalise’s chubby hands reached out for Simon’s. “Is dada, mama!”
You shook your head. “I- I’m so sorry, sir. Her dad was in the military. Anna thinks everyone in fatigues is dada… Do you want me to get either of you a coffee to pay you back? I’m truly sorry.”
Soap discreetly elbowed Simon harshly in the side. “‘M quite alrigh’ lass. Simon, here, would take a coffee if your serious. If you’ll excuse me, I got to go. Bye, little lassie,” the Scot rushed, face lightinf up at the way Annalise giggled as his parting.
Annalise was still cooing and reaching for Simon. You just shifted her on your hip and rubbed her back. “Simon, yeah?”
“That’s me, ma’am,” Simon nodded, feeling suddenly extremely exposed without the balaclava he had decided not to wear for one single occasion. “You don’t have to pay me back-“
“Nonsense. I would feel like a bad person if I just let my kid latch herself onto your left and call you dad and then just swoop her up and leave,” you said, reaching for your wallet before walking over to the ordering counter. “What can I get you?”
Simon ordered a small of his usual, watching you pull the money from your wallet without glancing at how much it costed. He observed you in that split second- a beautiful baby girl on your hip who thought any man in camo was her dad. So he had been in the service… Simon watched you smile kindly at the teen behind the counter who fumbled for your change. You murmured a quiet, “It’s quite alright, take your time.” A well-mannered, well put-together individual who was also very attractive. Simon knew what Johnny was doing when he left and Simon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought you were a catch.
“I seriously appreciate the coffee, ma’am, but it was unnecessary,” Simon said as you tucked your change back and waited for the drink. “As long as the kid’s alrigh’, I don’t need anything in return.”
You smiled. You smiled at Simon and he swore his cold heart jumped in his chest. Clearly your bright smile disarmed Annalise as much as Simon because she let out a bubbly laugh and put her hands on your cheek. “What if I said I wanted to?” You asked coyly.
Simon watched Annalise play with a baby hair near your face. “Then I’d say it’d be a cruel thing to tell a gorgeous woman no.”
#simon riley#jules writes 📓🖊#x female reader#fluff#female reader#ghost simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley call of duty#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley fluff#simon riley headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon riley angst#simone ashley#simon x reader#simon riley x female reader#simon riley cod
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You stir awake, sighing as you roll over to face your sleeping husband. You sit up, fixing your stretchy shirt over your very swollen belly. You pat Simon’s side. “Si? Si! Si!”
He groans as he wakes up, rolling over and shoving his head into his pillow. “Go back t’ sleep.”
“I want a big mac.”
He groans louder.
“Please, Si? I’m super hungry. And bubby keeps kicking.”
He sighs, “Look ‘t the time, lovie.”
You almost tear up.
When he notices the frown on your face, he sighs again, getting up. “Which one is the closest?”
You smile, almost jumping with joy as you lean up to press a million kisses to his cheek. “The one on 42nd.”
He leans down, kissing your belly and your lips before heading off to get dressed.
He returns 20 minutes later, a bag and 2 drinks in hand. You practically moan at the smell as he hands you the bag.
“I love you,” you moan as you take a bite of your burger. He chuckles, eating his own. “Bubby loves you too. He’s kicking every time I take a bite.”
“Bet ‘e does.” Simon kisses your belly as you stuff a few fries in your mouth. “Lovie?”
“Yeah?” you ask with a mouth full.
“Do ya think he’ll like me?”
“For the millionth time, my love, you are nothing like your father. You’re far too kind and too amazing and too sweet. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”
He chuckles, “Love you too.”
He leans down, kissing your belly.
“Both of ya annoying little buggers. Always fuckin’ hungry.”
#ghost call of duty#ghost imagine#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#ghost simon riley#ghost cod#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley fluff#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#cod ghost#ghost mw2
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imagine you’re dating ghost and no one knows. the two of you have kept it a secret on your end and his just for your protection— because ghost knows what could happen if someone finds out, how someone might try and target you to get to him, or worse, given his line of work.
but then imagine that he’s on a mission, interrogating some piece of filth ready to decorate the fucking wall with his brain matter when the guy says “you know what, simon, killing me would be the biggest mistake of your life.”
immediately ghost would pause, eyes narrowed, though his hardened demeanour wouldn’t fade much, he’d just blankly stare at the prick like “oh yea? n’ why don’ you tell m’ why.”
the shit-eating grin that would crawl across that fuckers lips would have ghost ready to kill him right then and there, but then he’d say “reach in my pocket. pull out my phone.”
id like to think ghost would have absolutely none of this assholes bullshit, not at all entertained by his theatrics. i’d like to think he’d just press the muzzle of his gun to the fuckers temple within an instant, all teeth barred and ready to get it over with when the guy would add,
“your girlfriend is a fucking beauty, isn’t she?”
everything would pause. ghost, time, the world, air, the universe itself—the life that would drain from ghosts face would almost be enough to make his alias a reality. his heart pounding in his throat, his fingers fucking trembling as he immediately reached into the assholes pocket to find his phone—a picture of a woman tied up (face not in view however) lighting up on the home screen. there’d be no thinking rationally, no thoughts in ghosts head except for making sure you were fucking okay. he’d do whatever he’d have to do, kill the guy, leave him strapped there, whatever—he’d be out of that room in two seconds flat and personally flying the helicopter back to your house calling you nonstop every fucking second until you answered.
“hello? si?”
he’d wait a second before answering. taking everything in. background noises, the inflection of your voice. it sounds calm, maybe too calm? he’s grasping his phone so fucking hard it’s a miracle it hasn’t shattered between his fingers.
“princess,” he breathes, fighting with everything in him to keep his voice steady. “see any birds today?”
though it was a genuine question, it also was an established one. ghost had set up a series of questions for a situation precisely like this. if you said blue jay, it meant you were fine, at home, as usual. if you said crows, it meant you weren’t.
“oh just the usual blue jays, si.” he could almost hear the smile on your lips. “everything okay? i miss you.”
ghost would exhale a shattered breath. “i’m coming home.”
and then he’d show up, not all but a few hours later, hands still trembling slightly, heart rate still struggling to regulate. it was too much, reminding him too much of his past traumas, he knew he needed to find better protection for you, but that was a conversation for another time.
he’d come in the house, barely even taking the time to shut the door behind him, almost frenzied again, relentless, unable to relax until he could finally lay eyes on you. and then, the second he did, he’d just pause and look at you, all messy hair and pyjamas still on, in the kitchen cooking breakfast for you both since you knew he was on his way.
and he wouldn’t say a goddamn word, he’d just come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, hugging you so tight you’d hardly be able to breathe, his face buried in your hair and his heart thumping at your back. you’d feel the pain the fear the anxiety radiating off him and you wouldn’t try to say anything because you knew he needed this, you knew he needed to see you, hold you, feel your pulse stable and alive. you knew he just needed a moment to breathe.
and so the two of you would stand there like that for a while, and then he’d take a big inhale and spin you around to face him, pulling up his mask to plant soft kisses on your jaw.
“i love you so fuckin’ much.”
#simon riley imagine#simon riley cod#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x you#simonriley#simon riley#simon#simon riley call of duty#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley smut#simonrileysmut#ghost smut#simon ghost smut#ghost riley#ghost#ghost cod#task force 141#taskforce141
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simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.
and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.
bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.
your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.
you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.
again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!
and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:
p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost x reader#simon riley fluff#simon riley cod#simon riley x reader fluff#simon ghost riley x reader fluff#simon ghost riley fluff#ghost cod#call of duty#୨୧˚whiskey writes˚୨୧#୨୧˚whiskey writes ghost˚୨୧
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Sex Pollen — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
girl dinner since my König sex pollen has over 900 notes♡
"That's it, love..." Ghost growls out as he pushes your hips up and down slowly, your warm, wet cunt engulfing his thick dick as his hips thrust up to meet you halfway. Your womb is already full of his cum, yet Ghost is unable to stop, each orgasm seemed to just be making his cock harder and his balls tighter. Being all the way inside you felt too damn good.
"So pretty like this, sweet girl... like you were made to take my fuckin' cock all the way inside that tight little cunt." He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to cum inside you yet. For the first time in his life, Ghost was willingly having sex, and oh God, he can't believe he has been missing out on this. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots with his fat cock.
"Ghost...—" His name being moaned out by you felt like music to his ears, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it. Though his face was concealed by the balaclava, you can see his expressive eyes focused completely on your face, basking in the pretty faces you make when you're cock-drunk. You already forgot how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, yet it all feels too damn good to ask him to stop, even when your cunt is abused and fucked-out.
"Fuck— angel, let me cum in you." He pleads for your consent, just as he did the last four times he came inside. "Want to fill you up so good, baby, please." Ghost's eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him your approval, groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.
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boyfriend!simon riley when you're mad at him
simon can easily tell when something's off with you.
he'd be clueless as to why you're giving him the cold shoulder, your lips sealed shut with closed off body language, arms crossed over your chest and a sour expression on your face.
although, on some occasions, it's easy for him to recognize what he'd done because let's be honest, simon riley has a habit of pissing off his lovie. just means it gives him a reason to make it up to you.
whether you're frowning, clanking things aggressively in the kitchen, his big hands would wrap around your waist, effortlessly dragging you to sit up on the counter, weaseling his way between your legs before you can shut him out. you can't shut him out, lovie.
a gasp escaping your lips involuntarily. his rough palms pressed your thighs, pushing your legs further apart of his lips traveled down your neck before skipping to your clothed cunt. his tongue pressed flat against the cotton, eyes fluttering shut for a mere second at the faint taste of you before peeling away your panties.
he didn't give you time to react, latching his lips around your sensitive clit, tongue teasing along your puffy folds. a low chuckle rumbling against your sopping pussy when your hands went to his short-cropped hair, tugging at the strands.
"still mad, baby? hmm?" his voice was dangerous; low and raspy, vibrating against your drooling cunt as he lazily lapped up your slick. a slight frown still on your face, and a small nod pulled his lips into a smirk. he knew what you were doing, lovie, you can't fool him.
"oh, are ya?" he'd hum, "can't 'ave tha' now."
or maybe you're on the couch, sulking as you stare at the blank tv screen. he'd press on your shoulder, pushing you to lie flat back on the cushions, keeping a warm, calloused hand pressed to your stomach.
burying his face in your damp cotton panties, crooked nose putting a teasing pressure on your little clit, the friction of the fabric sending a spark through your body.
he could spend hours between your legs, just lapping up the sweet slick that drools from your slit, teasing your pearl that easily becomes more and more sensitive, slipping in his thick fingers to coax your walls for his heavy cock later.
so go on, lovie, keep being mad at him, it just means he gets to make it up by burying his face in your sweet pussy.
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