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bits-and-babs · 1 year ago

Text

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

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"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house.

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises.

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether.

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence.

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde."

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'.

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes."

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel.

✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it.

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that.

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order.

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it.

He says nothing.

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt.

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils.

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk.

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action.

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much.

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose.

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock.

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'.

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head.

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform.

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast.

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune.

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed.

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet.

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission.

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you.

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up.

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another."

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins.

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side.

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention.

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes.

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow.

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth.

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue.

"The mask stays on."

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand.

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise.

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body.

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape.

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave.

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you.

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged.

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation.

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair.

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand.

“What was the prize?”

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes.

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex.

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily.

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression.

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–”

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly.

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress.

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion.

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips.

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot.

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing.

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre.

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?”

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth.

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?”

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper.

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–”

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name.

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration.

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–”

✰

“He’s blonde.”

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull.

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust.

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively.

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

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crimsonvictory · 1 month ago

Text

Emergency

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 8.2k

Tags: simon riley x reader, self-reader insert, simon riley x you

Warnings: SMUT, p-in-v, overstimulation, pain kink, mature, voice kink, fingering, oral sex, fluff

Looking up at the building's sign above your head, you were starting to think that this was a mistake. Maybe driving yourself to a sketchy address texted to you by your friend wasn't the best idea, and there was the possibility that she may be planning your funeral next week. The tan brick building was old and crumbling, but somehow still standing after all the weathering over the years. You pulled your phone out, double-checking the address from your messages, and yes, 869 Elvie Street was the correct address.

The events leading to this scenario started a couple of weeks ago when you mentioned to a friend that you were having some stress-induced pain due to your job.

"Have you tried getting laid?" was her first question.

After exclaiming to her that not every problem is fixed with sex, she provided the option of possibly seeing a chiropractor or massage therapist. You had gone over the suggestion in your mind, waiting a few days before texting her and asking for recommendations. She had a tried and true place she had been going for years, so you trusted her judgment.

"Now, don't be put off immediately. Simon doesn't have a lot to say, strictly work. Not the friendliest type but I swear he can pinpoint exactly where my pain is coming from and I feel like I'm on cloud nine when I leave his place. He's a private practice, so only one-on-one with him."

The issue with going there was that Simon’s hours conflicted with your work schedule, and it was extremely difficult to get time off. It took you a while to message him, but when you finally did work up the courage, you asked if there was any possible way he could stay a little late to work you into his schedule. You were met with the blunt reply of,

"No. - S”

And that was that. You didn't dare message again, determining that your pain wasn't actually that bad to manage and that you could deal with it. To be honest, you had forgotten all about the text and went back to work, keeping busy for the next several weeks. That is until the sharp pain shooting from your hip down into your groin was unbearable and you could hardly walk. You were never one to call off of work, but there was no possible way you would be able to get through the day in the state that you were currently in. Teeth gritting in pain, you called your friend, begging her to talk to Simon - put in that it was an emergency.

"Can you get yourself there by 10?" she had texted.

You shot a glance at the clock - 8:47. A soft groan left your lips, you had texted a short reply that you would be able to. Maybe you should have thought about it for a moment before sending an immediate reply. Typing in the address that your friend had given you, you were pleasantly surprised that it was only a few minutes down the road from your apartment. Slowly sliding to the edge of the couch, you grit your teeth in pain once again as you try putting your weight on your good hip. The sharp jabbing pain raced like fire down into your groin, causing you to cry out softly. You huffed in annoyance, slowly making your way to the bedroom to get dressed for your appointment.

It took a lot longer than you wanted, the attempt to put on a new pair of pants almost sending you into a fit of hysterics. You limp over to your bathroom vanity, taking a moment to brush your hair and then your teeth. Your eyes are a bit bleary with tears, so you blink them away, attempting to not look deranged. This is the best that you can do in your situation. Taking one final look at yourself, you huff yet again and make the long and painful route (typically a less than 2-minute walk down a short flight of stairs) to your car.

Shutting the door behind you, you lean on your good hip as you lock the front door to your apartment. It's a bit chilly out, the sun is not quite over the clouds this morning. A quick glance at your watch lets you know that you have about 15 minutes until your designated appointment. The familiar wash of anxiety starts from the crown of your head, making you shutter slightly as it passes down your shoulders and into your stomach. Everything would be okay... you told yourself (almost unconvincingly).

The ride over was quiet, opting to not listen to any music as you were already overstimulated. You followed the little arrow on the map, almost missing your turn because your thoughts were elsewhere. A quick parallel park of your car and you throw it into Park, letting out a deep breath before attempting to pull yourself out. You have your keys and phone in one hand, using the other to grab the handle above to use as leverage. Your good foot makes contact with the asphalt, digging in slightly as you hoist yourself up, careful not to jerk too quickly.

You stumble for just a moment, leaning against the now-closed car door before righting yourself once more and slowly making your way over to the sidewalk. Nervousness pulls in your stomach again. A glance to the left and right of your surroundings shows there are no other cars on the street that you're parked on. You tilt your phone up, opening up your messages to let Simon know that you're here.

A few moments go by in silence, and you shift your weight again, taking a look at your surroundings. A bell chiming grabs your attention and you look back towards the front door, surprise etching itself along your features as a man - you are guessing Simon, fills up the entrance. He appears almost out of nowhere, still as a statue as he stands there. He crosses his arms, stretching the grey t-shirt he has on to the point where they might almost bust out of the sleeves.

You blink rapidly, taking him all in. His dark eyes lock onto you, gaze unwavering. Brows furrowed slightly, the only available space you can see are his eyes. The lower half of his face is covered by a black surgical mask. Mysterious. You're at a loss for words, not knowing what to say. His gaze has you pinned to the spot, almost as if you were caught doing something particularly naughty.

A soft grumbling noise comes from his chest, a noise of annoyance as he rolls his eyes and turns back to walk back inside, letting the door fall back into its previous closed state. A frown tugs your lips downward, confusion whirling a spiraling pattern into your thoughts as you slowly hobble towards the door. You push it open, the bell chiming once again before the rush of the wind pulls the door shut quickly behind you, causing you to jump. Taking a look around the office, it's - as expected. Neat, white walls and grey wooden flooring. Nothing is decorating the small area, but surprisingly there are a few well taken care of monsteras by the front door. The air smells like eucalyptus and mint, a relaxing scent that causes your tightly drawn shoulders to droop just a bit.

You're not sure where Simon went so you stay by the front door, not wanting to be caught snooping around the office. He comes back just a few moments later, still silent as he steps forward and crowds your space. You inhale sharply, the faint smell of cigarettes and Earl Grey filling your nostrils. He reaches beside your head, flipping the deadbolt to the left - locking you both inside.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you grip your keys a bit tighter, watching as he turns quickly on his heel and disappears down the hallway.

"Down here, love," he calls, his deep voice reverberating off of the walls.

It takes you by surprise, a warm heat spreading in your belly. You somehow get your feet to move, brain short-circuiting as you try to actively process what the hell your friend got you into.

The room at the end of the hall is much cozier than the front office. Light grey walls and a carpeted floor, shelves full of herbs and salves, a long black bench, and a rack of towels are inside. Simon's sitting on a black rolling chair, legs spread out on either side of him. The soft glow of a lamp casts a variety of shadows in the room, making it a bit hard to see his face.

You are hesitant, but trust your friend and step forward into the room. Your eyes bounce around, taking everything in before landing back on Simon.

"Your friend said this was an emergency?" he asks coolly, eyebrows raising slightly.

You nod, pressing your lips together in a slight grimace, the pain of your hip dully radiating at the moment.

"What's bothering you?" he asks again, eyes flicking quickly over your form before landing back on your face.

You feel your cheeks flush, the rush of embarrassment hitting you quickly. A quick clear of your throat before you answer timidly.

"M-My hip."

His brows furrow for a moment before relaxing back on his face. He didn't pry, which you were grateful for. God only knows the thoughts running through his head at your answer. Simon beckons you closer and you oblige, trying your best not to put too much weight on your leg. He hums softly, almost as if confirming to himself what to do with you. You're standing rather close, the scent of him filling your nostrils again. It makes your stomach flutter.

"Can you sit?" he asks, dark eyes catching your gaze.

You nod, almost dumbly as you shuffle forward, turning and placing the back of your lower thighs flush with the black table. Leaning back slightly, you go to sit down when that flash of pain shoots down your leg again, causing you to gasp sharply.

Simon's hand wraps itself around your waist quickly, holding your weight for a moment while you try to steady yourself. Your brows furrow in pain, tears welling up as you look past him, staring at the wall and willing the moment to pass. Your body trembles slightly and you let out a huff of air, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. The moment has passed.

You notice his dark eyes on you again, cheeks flushing with the scrutiny of his gaze.

"Alright?" he asks lowly, eyes scanning your face again for any sign of pain.

You nod slowly and he helps you lower yourself on the table. You're seated now, resting for a moment as you tell him.

"Thank you..."

He hums softly again, the sound rumbling around in his chest. Simon steps forward, pushing himself up from the small stool he was sitting on. You sit there wondering how it manages to hold his weight. A light press on your shoulder from him, wanting you to lie on your back. The plushness of the table is comfortable, and you wiggle for a moment before deciding that you're comfy. It's hard to resist looking at him, large frame taking up your entire field of vision. You can't even see the door anymore.

Your eyes flutter closed, willing them to stop for a moment. Simon’s standing by your side, and you feel his large hand circle your ankle, pushing your knee up toward the ceiling. There's a slight pull again from your hip and you tense, wary of the oncoming pain.

"Relax," he murmurs.

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and tell yourself to calm down. Blood rushing in your ears, you hear the familiar whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

"'M gonna try and stretch your hip flexor before I adjust you, alright?" he explains and you nod.

With one hand on your knee and the other circling your hip he starts with a small range of motion, moving your knee towards your chest and back out again. So far so good, minimal pain. His fingers squeeze into the fat of your hip, keeping it stable as he goes through a few motions for mobility. It's only when Simon moves your knee out parallel from your body that you cry out involuntarily, the sharp sensation pulling the breath from you.

You watch as his brows furrow once more and he squeezes your hip gently - an apology. Your breath quickens, eyes widening as he slowly moves your hip back to its original spot before doing it once more. The pain is there again, but not as sudden. You let out a shuttering breath, the anticipation of the imminent pain causing you to sniffle.

"There we go..." he murmurs.

His voice causes a wave of relaxation over your body, and you go pliant in his grip. The motions are becoming easier, less and less of the pulling pain as he stretches your hip out. It's become more of a dull ache, something that you could manage. He moves to your other hip, repeating the motions from just moments earlier. This one causes no problems at all. Your gaze flits up to the ceiling, watching the shadows of the light bounce as it reflects off of his movement. He releases your hip, and you immediately miss the contact. Simon shifts down to the edge of the table, holding both of your feet together as he examines the natural alignment of your hips.

"One's a bit shorter than the other," he explains, crouching down to look at which one to adjust through one squinted eye.

"Good news, it's not the injured one," you hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

You smile back softly in return, watching as his two large hands wrap around your right foot after letting your other leg drop gently to the table. He wiggles your foot slightly, loosening up your hip.

"Relax f'me," he instructs (and how could you with the sound of his voice making pleasure burn deliciously in your stomach).

Wiggling your foot one more time, he yanks back towards himself suddenly, a sharp crack! from your hip filling the room.

"Woah," you gasp out quietly.

He grabs your shoes again, checking the alignment before dropping them gently, satisfied that the adjustment did the job. Simon's large hand reaches out, an offer to help pull you into a seated position. His hands are calloused, but not super rough against your own skin. He gently lets go and whirls around to his shelves of salves, rummaging through before he finds some BioFreeze. It's in a small aluminum tin, the sharp smell of medical tincture burning your nose.

"Apply this once you get home, you're gonna be sore for a few days. Helps relax the muscles," he explains.

You pluck it gently from his fingers, twirling the tin in your own.

"I can't thank you enough..." you murmur, looking down in your lap.

He tuts softly, placing a hand on the small of your back and helping you up and off the black table. You look up at him once more, eyes focused on his mask as you ask,

"How much?"

"Consider it a favor for a friend," he says.

You're walking down the short hallway now, looking over your shoulder at him. He follows you to the door, reaching over to unlock the deadbolt before leaning back at a respectable distance once more.

"I can't just not pay you," you argue softly.

He shakes his head, a soft huff of a laugh falling from his lips.

"Heal that hip up and I'll think about it."

With that, he gives you a wink and opens the door for you, ushering you outside. Your mouth drops slightly, blushing at his words before you click your key fob to unlock the car. You grab the handle, missing it a few times before you finally yank the door open and hop inside, throwing your belongings in the passenger seat. The first thing you do is grab your phone, furiously typing your friend's phone number into the dial box. She picks up in two rings.

"Well...?" she prods, an obvious grin in her voice.

"Well-" you huff, putting your seatbelt on in a hurry as you start to drive, not even fully clicked in before you speed off. "I feel a lot better."

She laughs on the other end. "I told you! He's amazing! And sooo handsome too, even behind the mask.”

You laugh softly at that, nodding your head even though she couldn't see you.

"He wouldn't let me pay," you pout, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel as you drive home.

"Really?" she asks incredulously.

"Mhm..." you answer, thinking back to the conversation. "He told me to let my hip heal and that he would think about it." you continue. "He also-,"

"What? He what?" she prods, so excited it sounded like she was trying to jump through the phone.

"H-He winked at me when he said it," you blush deeply, thinking about his dark eyes staying glued to you the whole appointment.

"Oh my god!" she squeals. "You know what that means right?" she asks.

"No?" you answer, genuine confusion in your voice.

What it meant was that he wanted to fuck. Unbeknownst to you, Simon could barely keep himself appropriate when he opened the door to you that day. A client of his, your friend, had practically begged him to get you in. She declared your situation an emergency. It was an emergency all right, the emergency being that he wasn't stuffing your pussy full of his cock at this very second. It took all of his composure not to strip you down in his office and have you begging for more. Your little whimpers and cries of pain turned on that wicked part of his brain that got off on it. He kept replaying them in his head that night, thick fingers wrapped around the base of himself as he bucked into the tight fist he had made. Simon was seriously fucked up. He knew it but couldn't help himself. Couldn't help dipping into the temptation of the possibility of having your soft body underneath his own.

He wanted to know what you tasted like, what you felt like under his rough hands. He'd treat you well. Pulling every last little noise out of you that he could. The thought alone had him crying out hoarsely, covering his hand in the sinful act of imagination.

Good god.

Simon groaned, shame filling his stomach as he rolled off the side of the bed, strolling over to the bathroom in just a few steps to clean himself up.

What was he going to do?

The salve Simon had given you was a godsend. As he had told you, your hips were super sore over the next few days, but having the cooling salve helped ease the tense muscles. You had gone back to work, your friend pestering you every second about him. Simon...you sigh, shaking the thought of him from your mind. Something about him...

You had thought about texting him, but that would be weird. There was no absolute reason for you to have to see him again. Your hip was doing better, the overstretched ligament finally healing with the help of his hands. Oh, his hands... You reminisce on the feeling of having his long fingers wrapped around your hips, the gentle squeezes of comfort, the sure way he knew what to manipulate on your body to make you feel better.

God. You were fucked.

Things were going well for a couple of weeks until one Sunday evening, you had decided to take a bath and treat yourself to a nice evening. The water was scalding, just how you liked it, as you slid into the water, a long sigh escaping your lips as you soaked your weary muscles. You close your eyes, thoughts drifting to a certain someone... imagining what he would do to you. A soft moan escapes your lips, hand sliding down your torso to gently brush against your clit.

An exasperated laugh left you, applying more pressure at the thought of his hands sliding down your body. Your hips jerked up suddenly, and to your horror, the sharp pain came back instantly. Oh no...

Dread filled your body as soon as it happened, already knowing that you were going to have to message him again. Maybe you could try to get out of the bath...

The sharp pain pulled again, causing you to curse in frustration. Looks like you were stuck for the time being. You grab your phone, open up to your contacts, and send Simon a quick message.

Another emergency.

...

Silence. You huff, knowing that he's not obligated to answer you. It was his day off after all. You might as well enjoy the hot water as much as possible. The warmth envelops your body, providing a little bit of comfort as you relax.

You must've dozed off because when you wake, the bath is lukewarm. A groan falls from your lips, rubbing a hand down your face before blindly reaching over for your phone. You blink blearily at the bright screen, looking at your notifications. Simon had replied. Oh shit. Your fingers shake as you open the notification.

Hope it wasn't because of something naughty. ;) - S

You nearly scream, cheeks ablaze with emotion. How the hell did he know?

Ha. Ha. You reply quickly.

You see the ... floating back and forth as he types, thoughts in limbo.

Can you walk? He asks.

You weren't sure, not having tested before because of the pain. Easing up slowly, you're able to pull yourself into a seated position. The water drips down your body and into the water, rapid descent of the drops making a soft tinkling noise. You reach for your towel, slowly starting to dry yourself off and wrapping it around your damp body. It takes a moment, but you're able to pull yourself up and over the tub, staying in a small crouch. If you're in this position, it's not too bad. You grip the counter, sending a quick text back.

Barely.

It takes a few moments for him to respond, and by that time, you have your towel dropped around your feet and are attempting to put on your panties.

I can stop by.

Your stomach flutters after reading his text. Fingers grip your phone as you respond.

I wouldn't want to bother…

Maybe you could make it until the beginning of the week. Tilting your hips back, you push yourself up, throwing an oversized shirt on quickly before bunching back over in discomfort.

Address?

Is all he asks. You huff, knowing you're not going to be able to argue, so you send it to him.

—

He arrives at your apartment in 20 minutes. In that time, you had slowly made your way to the living room so that you could sit on the couch and wait for him. A sharp rap of his knuckles notifies that it is indeed him. You groan when you sit up again, slowly shuffling to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock, twisting the metal bar to the side before you pull back, allowing the door to open.

It's a bit hard to see him from the angle that you're bent at, but you tilt your head to get a quick look at him.

Simon opted for black scrubs this time, his pants pulling deliciously taut against his thick thighs. His shirt is just a thin white tee, doing little to hide his broad chest. You notice a smattering of ink crawling up his forearm, as it’s closest to your field of sight.

Your eyes catch his, noticing the softness of his gaze. You realize you must look like a wounded animal to him - pathetic.

“Can I come in?” he asks politely, voice rumbling with deep timbre.

“Yes,” you sigh out, catching the way his eyes fall to your lower half.

His mask crinkles up against his face, he's smirking. It's only then that you realize that you forgot to put on pants. How embarrassing. Heat flushes hot up your chest, staining your cheeks pink.

“I’m sorry,” you half apologize. “I couldn’t-.”

“S’okay,” he soothes.

You nod, slowly stepping back and allowing him in. He looks odd in your apartment. The hulk of him taking up most of your entryway. He has to duck to step through the threshold, kicking his shoes off by the door. What a gentleman.

You swing the door shut, mimicking his actions from a few weeks ago, and locking the deadbolt behind you. The air is a bit awkward, mostly due to your own insecurities. You attempt to pull your shirt down farther to cover your bare legs.

“Don’t have to hide from me, lovie,” Simon murmurs. “Let’s get you sorted out, yeah?”

You nod, looking at him for direction. He takes a step forward, crowding your space with his presence. Simon’s paw of a hand flexes at his side, clearly restraining to the best of his ability to not touch you.

“Where’s most comfortable?” he questions, taking a look around your small apartment.

You hum, thinking…the bed would probably be the most comfortable, but also very intimate. The couch could work too, but being only one-sided due to the back of it. There was also the floor…but you didn’t know if you could get back up from it afterward. Bed it was then.

“The bed…” you murmur shyly.

His mask crinkles again, pulling against his face as he smirks again.

“After you,” he gestures with a slight nod of his head.

You turn then, stomach twirling with anxiety as you lead him into the bedroom. Slow, deliberate steps to not flare up your injury. The air is a bit cooler and you shiver, goosebumps crawling up your skin. Your clock reads 0442, the golden rays of sunshine confirming the time.

Your bedroom isn’t messy, but a bit eclectic with the clutter - a few books stacked on your nightstand, a jewelry tray, and a few odds and ends from your purse scattered on your vanity. You always leave a lamp on, along with an essential oil diffuser. Eucalyptus and mint - your favorite.

Simon pads silently behind you, almost forgotten until you catch him out of the corner of your eye. You watch as he takes in the small space, a soft hum as his eyes dance around the room.

You had, for once made your bed today, a fluffy black duvet and a grey throw stretched across the queen size. You didn’t particularly need such a wide space, but it was a luxury of yours, being able to spread out on your own.

Walking (limping) around to your side of the bed, you take it slow when sitting down. You laugh suddenly, imagining what Simon must think of you - an old lady.

“Somethin’ funny?” he questions, a smile in his voice.

“I must look be a sight, hobbling around like this,” you laugh breathlessly.

A slight shake of his head, eyes nearly shut. He’s cheesin’. Simon steps around to meet you, mimicking his movements from a few weeks prior. Two of his thick fingers push into the rivet of your shoulder - a silent plea to lay on your back. Obviously, your bed is much comfier, plush pillows surrounding your head as you sigh. Eyelids fluttering, you look directly up at him, a blush dusting your cheeks as you wait for him to move.

A large hand slides down your side, settling in the crook of your hip. His fingers squeeze at the fat there, stabilizing the joint as his other hand slowly brings your knee up to point to the ceiling. The movements are much slower now, remembering from the first incident that he had caused you pain.

Your body is tense, waiting for the sharp ripple that travels down your thigh - it does, as soon as your hip flexor is tilted to the side.

A sharp cry punches out of your lungs, eyes immediately filling with tears.

“Sorry, love…” Simon murmurs, voicing genuine concern.

You sniffle, taking a deep breath as he makes the rotation back to the first position.

“You’re too tense,” he grumbles, releasing the hold on your knee before sliding his fingers down your bare leg, erupting goosebumps along their wake.

He allows his fingers to unfurl from your hip, pushing the hem of your shirt just above it, so that he can see the bare skin there.

Your eyes flicker down to the exposed spot, desperately wanting to yank your shirt back down.

“Where’s the salve?” he questions.

“Hm?” you hum, thoughts drifting again to his hands.

“The salve?” he questions again, eyebrows raising towards his hairline.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Bedside drawer.” you point to the nightstand to the right of you.

He rummages around for only a moment before the metal tin is in his large hands. Spinning the lid off, he dips two fingers down into the tincture before gently rubbing it into the skin of your hip. You whine softly, the cooling sensation a relief to the flared injury.

Simon huffs softly, eyes flitting over your near-naked form before settling on your own.

“Can’t be making noises like that, bunny,” he warns lowly.

A tingling sensation pulls in your stomach, desire pooling at the base of your spine. Only then do you notice his cock is straining against his pants, clearly turned on by your involuntary noises. You bite your lip hard, turning your head away to not look at him. He was doing you a favor - that was all. A favor for a friend…right?

“Simon,” you sigh softly. “I’m sorry.”

You roll your head back to the other side, blinking before looking up at his face. His brows furrow, confusion etching them into place.

“Don’t apologize,” he huffs, just a faint hint of frustration in his voice.

You can’t tell if he’s frustrated with himself or you. A frown turns your lips downward. His fingers have stopped rubbing the rest of the tincture into your skin, frozen in place as if he’s afraid to touch you again. His other hand is at a fist at his side, fingers clenching together in restraint. Simon’s chest rides and falls languidly as the moment passes, silence lingering in the shared space.

You take a deep breath before you speak,

“Is everything okay?”

His dark eyes flit to yours, pupils dilated to the point where they melt into his irises. Another unblinking gaze makes you a bit uneasy. A familiar flutter of panic itches at the back of your skull.

“No,” he finally answers, slicing the tension of silence with a verbal knife.

“Why?” you breathe out, entranced in his gaze, the rise and fall of your chest quickening.

“Because I want to touch you,” he admits, words so soft your ears are straining to hear them.

Your brain short circuits, a flood of arousal filling your panties. You tense slightly, an unwarranted reaction - before slowly relaxing and letting your legs fall open - an invitation. You’re still mindful of your injured hip, Simon’s fingers still slightly brushing the top of your thighs.

He groans then, a delightful noise that rattles around in his chest before spilling from his lips. Simon places his knee on the bed, slowly leaning his weight forward as he crawls up in between your legs. Your head was spinning, trying to catch up with what was unfolding before you. His touch is featherlight, fingers lightly brushing the bare skin of your calf closest to him. Sitting up on your elbows, you watch quietly, curious as to how this was going to play out.

The sun was starting to set, golden hues splaying across Simon’s form. A particular ray hit his eyes, revealing the brilliant ochre that spiraled within them. He looked like something of a god, on display for you and you only. Simon leans down then, pulling his mask down just a bit to place his lips on your skin. You shutter, the feeling of them erupting goosebumps. They were surprisingly soft, slightly chapped, and full. He slowly moves up your thigh, gentle kisses placed on your skin, nearly afraid of breaking you.

—

You were fragile in his eyes. Something that he wouldn’t dare to shatter. But yet, something in him wanted to, wanted to break and bend and manipulate you with his bare hands. Simon wanted to pull every ounce of pleasure from your body, to take away the pain that was lingering. He wanted to hear your pretty whines, watch your body react, and flush to his touches. Mold you into his own body, fitting the two as one. Dip his fingers into your soaking cunt. He opts for placing soft kisses first, warming you to his touch.

To his pleasure, you’re extremely reactive, soft sighs and hums of approval are music to his ears. His large hands slide up your bare thighs, admiring the smoothness of your skin. You answering your door in your underwear was not on his radar and completely threw him for a loop.

Things had moved quickly and now…now he was wanting to taste you. Mouth watering at the thought. Simon looks at you now, trembling under his touch, anticipation etched onto your pretty face. He’s resting on his stomach, broad shoulders causing you to stretch your good hip out almost near exertion. A slow lean down and…

His warm mouth makes contact with your clothed pussy, tongue flattening against the fabric and sliding up achingly slow. A low moan falls from your lips, head falling back against the pillow. Simon repeats the motion, slowly mapping out your folds to memory. A shudder of pleasure makes its way down your body and you reach a hand out, placing it on his bicep. You give it a light squeeze, fingers curling tight.

Soft moans of yours fill the air, along with the smell of your arousal. You’re dripping wet, soaked fabric of your panties clinging to your folds. Simon hasn’t let up since he began, your slick dripping down his chin. His mask is long forgotten, but his face is hidden between your legs, so you can’t see what he looks like in his entirety.

His long fingers brush against the side of your panties, causing your hips to jerk upwards suddenly. A sharp gasp punches out of your chest, pain radiating down your thigh once again. Tears spring up in your eyes - frustration causing them to bubble up and over onto your cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed and you are jostled by Simon moving. Cheeks burning hot with shame, you turn your face away.

Your lip trembles despite you trying your best to keep it still. This was a mistake, and now he was going to leave. Your hand curls itself into a fist at your bare side.

A touch to your face startles you, causing your eyes to flutter open in shock. Simon is still there, mask placed back on his face as he gazes down at you. He’s half leaning over you, hand placed by the space near your shoulder, eyes glittering with concern.

“Let’s try something different, yeah?” he suggests.

It takes a moment for your brain to process the words, still in shock that he is still here. He still wants to even though you ruined the moment. You nod slowly, still frozen and afraid to move due to the pain. Simon snakes his right hand down to wrap his long fingers around the fat of your hip. He squeezes tightly, holding the aching muscle in place as he climbs onto your bed yet again.

Simon’s straddling your left leg, taking the quick movement to switch your positions in one fluid moment. You yelp, hands flying out to land on his chest as you try to steady yourself. He’s still got a grip on your hip, the pressure keeping it from overextending itself as you sit in his lap. You can feel his length through your soaked panties.

He’s resting comfortably back against your pillows, eyes half closed as they lazily scan down your body. His chest rises and falls languidly, a sound of contentment rumbling throughout. It almost sounds like he’s purring. An experimental shifting of his hips has the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, sending fire licking down your spine.

A pathetic noise crawls up your throat, falling from your lips on its own accord. You watch as his mask crinkles again, eyes nearly closed as he smirks. Simon rolls his hips up towards your own, keeping you locked in place. All you can do is take it, his vice-like grip preventing you from moving. Your stomach flutters with arousal, slick dripping down your thighs as his cock slides against the sticky fabric of your panties.

“Look ‘atcha,” he praises. “Makin’ a mess and I’ve barely touched ya.”

Your lip trembles and you bite down hard, willing it to keep still. His eyes catch your own and you watch his pupils dilate. You can see a blurry reflection of yourself in them, watching your face contort in pleasure as Simon presses up into you. Another whine pulls from your throat, the friction not enough. You needed more - you tried to wiggle in his grip but to no avail.

“What’sa matter?” he mocks, tone almost turning mean. “This not enough for ya?”

You shake your head, a hot flush running down your neck and into your chest.

“N-No,” you gasp as he thrusts his hips upwards again. “I need you, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he coos, squeezing your hip lovingly.

Simon doesn’t even bother to move you, just pushes your panties to the side and brushes his fingers through your folds. Your slick pools down onto his fingers, making it easy for him to press two inside. They’re thick, causing you to tense for a moment before relaxing and letting him in.

“‘Atta girl,” he praises again before sliding his fingers back out to the tips before thrusting back in your warm heat.

You moan, releasing your grip on his shoulder as he fucks you with his fingers. His other hand keeps you steady as he lowers you down and back just a bit, almost seated at an angle on his lap. Both of your legs are spread on either side of his hips, hand braced on the bed to keep yourself steady. Simon curls his long fingers towards himself, pressing that spongey spot that has your knees going weak.

“S-Simon,” you gasp, knees buckling inwards towards themselves.

His hand leaves your hip momentarily to push them gently back to their original position, keeping your glistening folds on display just for him. A laugh punches itself out of his chest, almost restrained. It’s a beautiful sound, one you wish you could’ve heard sooner. Simon takes the pad of his thumb and swirls it around your clit. Pleasure burning in your stomach and down your legs, you cry out, orgasm squeezing a moan out of your lungs. You tremble as it ignites your nerves, breath quickening as the pleasure wrecks your body.

He doesn’t slow his fingers, keeps milking every last drop until your body has settled. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on your skin, illuminated by the golden hues of your bedside lamp. A low whistle carries out, faintly hitting your ears as you try to push yourself back up into a sitting position. Your legs are like jelly and Simon laughs again before helping you up.

His fingers absentmindedly brush back and forth on your hip as he hums, giving you a moment to recollect yourself. Pleasure has your joints relaxed, and your hip no longer burning with discomfort. Your eyes roll languidly, almost as if floating in syrup, to meet his own. He’s watching you again, taking you all in. You try to get a good look at him - a slight furrow in his brows, almost as if he’s always in thought. The mask hides most of his face but you can tell his nose is a bit crooked - possibly broken? You fight the urge to reach out and run your fingers across the bridge. There’s a small spattering of freckles peaking out from underneath the mask and you smile.

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, smiling.

He huffs out a laugh, a small smile on his lips as he shakes his head. Hesitantly reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, you give it a soft squeeze before you slide your hand down his chest and over the tented part of his scrubs. His eyes follow the trail, locking onto where your hand is slowly stroking up and down his length.

A shudder of a breath leaves his lips and his eyes fall shut. Touch-starved and desperate for more, Simon restrains himself from reaching out and flipping the two of you, wanting nothing more than to have you under him. He reminds himself to be careful with you.

You slide your hand into his pants, stroking him through his boxers. He’s fucking huge, filling your hand with his girth.

“Jesus,” you huff out in astonishment, a small laugh escaping past your lips.

“Too much to handle?” he quips, peeking one eye open to look at you.

“No!” you huff, biting your lip as you try to plan on how to begin.

“Here,” Simon sighs, taking both of your hands in one of his own while he shimmies out of his scrubs.

His cock strains against the confines of his boxers for a moment before he pulls them down too, finally letting it bounce against his stomach.

He’s oversized, pretty - creamy skin with a lush pink tip. It curves to the right just a bit and is leaking from being neglected for so long. You want to bend down and have a taste, mouth watering at the thought. Simon still has your hands on his own when he settles back down. You wriggle them free, wrapping your fingers around the base and stroking slowly up to the tip.

A low rumble of pleasure starts low in his chest, so you keep going, swiping your thumb over the tip. He’s super sensitive, length twitching in your hand as you tighten your grip. Simon’s lids are half closed, watching you languidly.

His hips act on their own accord, bucking into your hand to chase more pleasure. You’re transfixed - watching over and over as he fucks into your hand. The action has you clenching around nothing, wetness creeping down your thighs again. A whine creeps up your throat and you roll your hips slowly against his clothed thigh - unable to stop yourself.

“Just can’t get enough, can you?” he laughs, the sound getting interrupted by a moan as you squeeeeze your fingers tight around the base.

“Not fair,” he wheezes softly, hips stilled for a moment.

His thigh twitches, bumping up into your pussy, causing a spark of pleasure to pull in your core. Simon moves then, pulling his mask down and smashing his lips to yours. He leads the kiss, licking into your mouth with slow swipes of his tongue. You moan into his mouth, eyes falling closed and hands coming up to rest on his forearms. He tastes like Earl Grey and lingering tobacco. Simon moves his thigh up and down, the slick from your pussy drenching his pants. You whine against his lips, hips stuttering as pleasure overcomes you yet again.

“You comin’ again?” he asks with a laugh, smirking against your lips.

Your cheeks blaze furiously, tears pricking at your eyes as you come again. Simon kisses down your neck, biting down at the soft flesh above your collarbone. His arms wrap around your back, burying his face into the crook of your neck, and begins rolling your lower half up and down, up and down as you ride out your second orgasm against his thigh. You’re gasping for air, breath stuttering as pleasure squeezes your chest. All the stress forgotten as it washes over your body. You feel euphoric, the overwhelming release causing tears to fall down your face.

Simon shushes you quietly, rubbing soothing circles into your back as you come down again.

“There you go,” he coos. “Good…so good f’me.”

You sniffle, a laugh bubbling up and over your lips.

“Should’ve called you a lot sooner,” you joke.

He laughs loudly - the melodic sound filling the air.

“Mhmm…” he agrees, placing soft kisses on your overheated skin.

You tilt your head back, allowing him more access. Soft presses of lips to skin. It lights you on fire, desire tingling down to your toes. You arch up into his touch, sighing when his large hands caress your skin.

His thumbs brush across your nipples, stiffening them into peaks.

“Needy little thing…” he murmurs, sliding his hands down to the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head.

Your shirt lays forgotten on the edge of your bed, you, bare except for your panties. A shiver runs down your spine, the cool air biting your skin. Simon shifts slightly, wrapping his hand around his cock and brushing the velvety tip through your folds. It catches on your entrance, slowly sinking into your pussy.

You moan, breath catching in your throat. His size stretches you open, causing your thighs to shake with exertion. Simon’s slow, allowing you to adjust before sliding you down another inch. His large hands keep you steady, squeezing the fat of your hips. There’s a moment of silence and that’s when you notice you’re trembling.

“S’okay,” he soothes, rolling his hips experimentally.

The tip bumps against your cervix - a mix of pain and pleasure.

“O-Oh,” you gasp, grasping at his shoulders for leverage.

Just like earlier, he has you pinned, stuck in pleasure as he slowly thrusts up into you. Your head falls back, arching your chest forward. Simon takes this opportunity to latch his mouth over your nipple. His tongue expertly runs over the bud, stiffening it yet again into a hard peak.

The sound of your bodies meeting echoes in your small room, the smell of sex heavy in the air. You clench around his length, wanting him even closer than physically possible.

“Bunny…” he warns, nipping at your jaw.

You laugh, pleasure blurring your mind’s worry. You can feel him in every thrust, thick cock bullying its way into your cervix. Simon’s pace has picked up, a steady motion of in out in out in out. You know he’s chasing his pleasure, large hands grabbing at your body ravenously. Itching to touch every part of your body, nothing left undiscovered by him.

He flips you quickly, your mind whirling from the sudden change of position. Simon steadies your hip, still so mindful as he pushes back in, the new angle causing your toes to curl.

“Ohmygod,” you cry out, breaths punched out of your lungs with every thrust.

Simon’s pace falters, growing sloppy as he chases his release. You clench around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Don’t ya fuckin’-“ he starts before you ignore him and do it again.

He curses, hips jolting as he comes.

“Fuck,” he moans, filling your pussy full.

You whine, the feeling overwhelming as he thrusts a few more times before slowly pulling out. A mixture of slick and him leaks down your thighs, cooling in the air. You grimace, going to sit up but Simon pushes you down. He gets up, walks to your bathroom, and grabs a washcloth to run under the warm water. It feels good on your skin as he cleans you up. He then grabs your shirt, picking you up to pull it over your head before gently laying you back down.

Your breathing has started to even, eyes closed as sleep threatens to pull you away. A cold feeling on your hip has you yelping - the salve. Simon has placed a generous amount on your skin, rubbing it in gently. Your eyes crack open to peek at him, he has his mask on again and you frown slightly - sad you weren’t able to see his face.

“Rest up dove, you still owe me,” he winks, leaning over and crawling back into bed with you.

As you start to drift, Simon pulls you close to his chest, warmth causing a slight shiver as you shift to get comfortable. He pulls a blanket over the two of you, warmth breath brushing your neck. His mask off once more. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you snuggle down into the blankets, and the thought of how you were going to explain to your friend suddenly pops up. Shit. You couldn’t hide this from her.

“What should I say if she asks?” you mumble, almost half asleep.

“Hm..?” Simon rouses, nearly dozing himself.

“What do I tell her what happened this weekend?” you ask him.

“Tell her it was an emergency,” he laughs softly, pulling you closer as he rests his face into the crook of your neck.

#simon riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #reader insert #crimsonwrites #cod smut

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saint-ajax · 6 months ago

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Wh0re Thoughts X Shades of D.I.L.F

#SR1P2 | DAD!SIMON X BABYSITTER

After you squirm, moan, and whine in your sleep until you cum for the fourth- fifth- you couldn’t remember, he finally has his fill. Now, you feel the warm base of dick heavily lying on top of your core. He thrusts that way, just grinding and rubbing his bulky girth on your drenched pussy.

“ ya’ taste fuckin’ heavenly. why have ya’ been hiding this pussy away from me? „

He slaps your clit with his tip, then before your walls get jealous, he pushes his cock inside, stuffing you full of his beefy, stiff, and leaking cock. As his tip reaches your cervix he stays in position as he hover his heavy body over your fragile ones.

Your eyebrows meeting in pleasure or pain that he couldn’t confidently place, made him kiss your cherry lips, hold your chin to angle your face, dominate your mouth with his tongue, even your mouth tasted better than heaven.

“ keep going, luv? „ you nod as your hand clutches tightly on the bed sheets. “ use your words, c'mon let me hear ya, „

“ j-just keep going, it… feels’ so good.. „ he thrusts in slowly and gently, letting your drenched walls hug and cover the length of dick tightly. He fitted perfectly inside your cunt. He was convinced you were molded just for him.

“ fuck… ya’ cunt’s sucking the life outta’ my cock„

As he thrusts in perfect pace, dragging the pleasure of to linger, he leans down to suck your bubbly breasts bouncing on his every thrusts. His tongue licking your rock hard nipples, kissing the mound, while the warmth of your cunny and his cock mixing perfectly, his hips hitting your inner thighs on every thrust was wetting your slits more and more that was making it easy for him to slip in and out.

He took your hand and licked the pads of your fingers, guiding you to encircle your clit for more pleasure. While he fastens his pace, rocking his hips faster than before, holding onto your thighs, your ankles on top of his shoulders, he slams his balls on your pussy as he groans in pleasure. He tells you to keep circling your clit and don’t stop as he spreads your legs open to slam his hips down.

The pleasure and comfort was powerful together, every sensory of your being was high. As he keeps pushing down his dick, he fills your cunt of his creamy, thick, cum. While your legs shake as you reach your orgasm, crying out his name while you circle your clit that only gave you the best orgasm of your life. He doesn’t stop his pace to prolong your euphoria and his, he was groaning, the expression of his face had his mouth open, and brows frowning which was making you moan even more.

“ fuck… oh.. the man you are Simon Riley. I didn’t know this is how you pay your babysitter. „

You joke breathlessly while he pants on top of you, letting go of his body weight on you. Skin to skin while he’s still inside, trapping his warm milky cum inside you, throbbing and twitching inside your pulsing cunt.

“ this ain’t no payment, dolly. ’s a thank you. for being so perfect, and takin’ care us. „

<- PREVIOUS | PART I.

MASTERLIST | A03

#ajax saint #call of duty domain #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #wh0re thoughts by ajax #wh0re house by ajax #babysitter #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon ghost riley #simon riley smut

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mehidktbh · 1 year ago

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A Twist In The End

Pairing: Mafia!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: A strict meeting with your new supervisor, reveals the shocking revelation awaiting you: a mysterious figure from the previous night, now revealed as not only your savour but also a consultant in your new workplace.

Warning: Swearing, taking pills (painkillers) and reader is hungover

A/N: *Cough Cough...* CHAPTER TWO... AND THREE COMING OUT ON THE SAME NIGHT TOO?!

Taglist: @captainsbaby, @feedthefandoms995, @kyuupidwrites, @fatedeniedhope, @bangirl134, @blueoorchid, @iimfae, @a1nazzz, @motherofreposts, @emi-flaces, @liliumbosniacum, @whore-for-anime, @zeyzeys-stuff, @greenhornphotography, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @simonsslvt, @bunky101, @gisselleherrerposts, @natchayaphorn, @xdarkcreaturex, @theunknownartistsworld, @somelikeitmaat, @mxtokko

▻ Chapter 2 from the It’s Always Been You series ◅

Your eyelids felt as heavy as bricks as you woke in your friend's dimly lit hotel room. The remnants of last night's escapade clung to you like a heavy coat, and you groaned, trying to shake off the remnants of a wild night out in Manhattan. A quick glance around confirmed your location. Your friend's booked hotel room had served as your sanctuary amidst the city's chaos. But today was different. Today was the first day of my new job at the mysterious building that had cast its shadow over my life.

The throbbing in your head was a relentless reminder that you had responsibilities far weightier than the consequences of a night spent dancing and drinking. With the lingering yet strange thought of being saved at the back of your head. A man?

Yet while pondering for much longer than you should be, with great effort, you managed to sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed. Your friend had left a glass of water and a couple of painkillers on the nightstand. Gratefully, you gulped them down, hoping they would quell the throbbing in your temples.

♡ ♡ ♡

Minutes later, you found yourself standing on a bustling Manhattan street, surrounded by a sea of rushing people. Yellow taxis zoomed by, their horns creating a rain of urban chaos. The towering skyscrapers loomed above you. As you hailed a taxi, your mind began to replay the fragments of last night's unexpected events. The club, the mysterious man who had saved me, and the looming presence of his weirdly veiny fingers and white handkerchief — it was all a tangle of intrigue and uncertainty.

The taxi pulled up to the curb, and you slid into the backseat. The driver's eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, and he asked for your destination. "The new building downtown," You replied, your voice sounding smaller than you'd hoped. The journey through Manhattan's maze of streets felt like a blur, the city's towering skyscrapers passing by in a dizzying way as you instead were stuck on the memories of the club, with its dimly lit corners and pulsing music, began to take shape in your mind.

The enigmatic figure who had come to your rescue haunted your thoughts. His strong presence, the captivating gaze that had held mine, and the way he had effortlessly handled the situation — all of it seemed surreal, like a scene from a movie. But now, reality had returned to bite you in the ass. Mr. Reynolds, your new supervisor, was the looming figure in your immediate future and the one you should be focusing on pleasing.

The taxi pulled up in front of the new building, its glass façade gleaming in the morning sun. It was a masterpiece of modern architecture, an imposing presence in the heart of Manhattan. From the outside, it appeared both inviting and boring, like every other bussiness bulding.

Paying the driver and stepping out onto the bustling sidewalk. As you walked toward the entrance, the weight of the impending encounter with the man from last night was being forced out of your mind. And instead trying to be shoved in to make a great impression on Mr. Reynolds. But the events of the previous night had altered the course of your life, plunging you into a world of intrigue and uncertainty. The mysterious man from the club, the enigmatic building, and your new supervisor were all pieces of a puzzle you couldn't begin to solve.

Approaching the sleek reception desk mindlessly, you're face to the floor as you were only stuck on last night and today's more important events. A young woman looked up at you, her name tag read "Emily." She looked up with a polite smile as you approached.

"Good morning, welcome to Reynolds & Co.," she greeted you. "You must be the new hire. Mr. Reynolds is expecting you." With a nod, you followed Emily through the pristine lobby, the silence broken only by the soft click of your heels. Which now looking at them, didn't match the rest of your attire. Fucking hungover. On the polished marble floor. You entered a sleek elevator, and Emily pressed the button for the 35th floor.

As the elevator ascended, you had so many questions and so many uncertainties about what lay ahead and from behind. Emily, however, remained composed and unperturbed, as though this were just another day at the office.

Finally, the elevator doors opened, revealing a sprawling, modern office space that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Rows of cubicles and glass-walled offices filled the floor, each occupied by diligent employees focused on their tasks. Emily led you to a corner office with a frosted glass door that read "Mr. Daniel Reynolds - CEO." She knocked softly and then opened the door, gesturing for me to enter.

As you stepped inside, you were met with the sight of a tall, imposing man seated behind a large mahogany desk. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a sharp jawline, and piercing blue eyes that seemed to strip away any pretence. This was Mr. Daniel Reynolds, your new supervisor.

He rose from his chair and extended a hand towards you. "You must be the new addition to our team," he said in a deep, commanding voice.

You shook his hand, feeling a sense of gravity in his touch. "Yes, I am," you replied, trying to steady your nerves.

"Welcome to Reynolds & Co.," he said, his gaze unwavering. "I trust you had no trouble finding your way here?"

"Not at all," You replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "Thank you for this opportunity."

However, something in the room had shifted. Your eyes darted to the corner of the office, where a second man stood, one who hadn't been there before. He leaned casually against the wall, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

The memories of last night flooded back as you recognized him — the mysterious man from the club. He turned his head to you, his piercing gaze locking with yours. His smirk deepened, and it was clear that he remembered you as much as you remembered him.

As you tried to process this unexpected twist, Mr. Reynolds began to speak, his voice a steady backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. "Allow me to introduce you to our consultant, Mr. Riley. He's here to ensure that our operations run smoothly." Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the reality that the mysterious man from the club was not only part of this enigmatic company but had a role that extended far beyond the dance floor.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x s/p #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x s/o #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #mafia au

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faust-the-enjoyer · 10 months ago

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Requests open for. For. Queer. QUEER!!!

I've written for ace!reader before, ftm!reader, and even male!reader (most of what i write is gn!reader, sometimes fem!reader), so feel free to request other queer!reader fics.

Please read my pinned post before requesting!

(Note: the logan walker tag is there because i write for (keegan p russ x reader x logan walker) as a polyfidel triad.)

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konigenblobbity · 2 years ago

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You think I wouldn’t know?

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: Smutty, Dom!Ghost, fake orgasm, p in v, cunnilingus, established relationship, aftercare

Summary: You didn’t know why tonight your climax seemed constantly out of reach. The climax that your boyfriend was working so hard to reach. Both yours and his. Last thing you want is to watch him tire himself out, trying to grasp something that wasn’t there. He wouldn’t know if you just faked it… right?

“Oh god, you feel so good love~”. Ghost spoke with ragged breaths. Your head was thrown back against your pillow, unable to look at him. Too busy in your own head questioning why you didn’t feel your pleasure building like it usually did when he was balls deep in you like this.

The way your boyfriend was railing into you with such a ferocious pace…. It should have your legs shaking by now. Your body pressed against the bed by his, missionary position. Both his hands gripping your hips tightly, his own spreading your legs wide open for him. As his dick split you open over and over. And yet you felt… nothing.

His head leans down into the crook of your neck, a telltale sign that he was close. That and how his breaths were more labored as they hit your neck. You began to grind your hips against him, meeting his thrusts, hoping to find some pleasure. But it only had him weaker for you, doing nothing to diminish your frustrations.

“S-so close… fuck” he says before softly biting into the skin in your neck. You decide to give in, forget about your high and just help your boyfriend find his. You throw your head back, letting out soft moans before saying “m-me too Si~” in the most cock-drunk voice you could manage.

“Mmmm… cum with me lovie…” His voice was raspy and that plea made you feel somewhat guilty and ashamed. He continued to thrust into you with abandon. You felt his pace falter, you begin to voluntarily twitch your legs. Letting out more fake moans, let them fall from your lips, raising in volume and pitch slowly.

“G-gonna cum so deep inside you lovie~” Moments later his hips press against yours harshly, stopping their rapid movements from earlier. Keeping himself pressed deep inside you as he let out a shaky groan right into the neck of your skin. “F-fuck! that’s it… take it” he says through ragged breathes as he grips at the bedsheets next to your head.

“I-I’m cumming! God Ghost… feels so good!” You close your eyes and grind your hips up one last time, still putting on a show. You let out a final soft moan and then pant out softly, shivering at the feeling of his warm cum painting your walls. His hips tremble against yours, working through his release, groaning against the skin of your neck.

He pulls away from your neck, regaining his steady breathing. He hovers above you, looking down at you, his half-lidded eyes visible through his mask. His eyes wander up and down. Undressing you with his eyes, even though you were already stark naked below him. He sits up between your thighs, back straighten.

“Tsk tsk tsk… my sweet girl~” he spoke softly, a hand moves from your hip to caress your cheek gently. His tone is laced with… disappointment, almost guilt. You furrow your brows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Your face was flush, from the way his gaze devoured your figure.

“I know you didn’t cum darling…”. It was spoken like a statement. No judgement, or anger. The tone was just indifferent. But at his confession you can’t help but blush and look away.

“N-no I-I came… it felt good. Wh-why wouldn’t I-“ you cut yourself off as he turns your head to face him again. His eyes soft, gazing down at yours through his mask. You gulp and then blush more. Before confessing. “H-how did you know?”

Moving his hand back down, he begins to caress your hips softly before leaning down and lifting his mask slightly to place kisses on your shoulders and collar. “Ive seen you cum dozens of times~ I’ve heard you cum dozens of times. I can’t help but watch that gorgeous expression of yours when you do” he continues to softly kiss you, easing away the tension from your earlier nervousness. It now evident to you that he wasn’t mad.

“S-so?” You ask softly and he just chuckles before sitting back up again. He brings a hand back up and traces your bottom lip with his thumb, softly pulling it down. “So. I know that when you cum, you don’t even have the energy to moan out… your mouth just falls agape as you try to mumble out any coherent words you can. Trying your best to moan my name”

Your eyes widen and, due to his mask still being raised above his mouth, you can see the smirk that paints his face. “And yet… tonight you managed to moan so loudly, the others might have heard your little ‘show’” he says with another soft chuckle as he watches you blush more.

“But...” He says as he begins to move back, away from between your legs and instead to the edge of the bed before stepping off. “let’s not waste any more time with explaining” he says before reaching forward and grabbing your ankles, pulling you down the bed quickly.

“H-hey!” You yelp out as he pulls you down the bed enough that your hips sit on the edge. “Shh… let me take care of you lovie” he says as he kneels down at the end of the bed, placing your legs over his shoulders. Now face to face with your still weeping pussy.

You notice him look down, his eyes glued to how you were dripping onto the sheets, and watched as he licked his lips. He slides his hands up your ankles slowly until they rest on your inner thighs. The motion set your body alight.

“Look at it… practically begging for my attention” He says teasingly and before you can retort back he leans forward, his searing hot tongue licking one long stripe against your folds. The gasp that leaves you, and the way you grip the sheets, has him humming softly in content.

You weren’t allowed to sleep until you came on his tongue over and over… only stopping once he was satisfied. His eyes watching your face each time, waiting for “that gorgeous little mouth” to fall open just for absolutely nothing to come out. Nothing except broken whimpers and whines.

Of course afterwards he praised you endlessly, kissing and caressing your still twitching legs. His mouth glistening with your slick, muttering countless praises. Calling you “Such a good girl…”, telling you how “You looked so beautiful for me”, and adding “You taste so goddamn amazing love. Like fucking ambrosia”.

He then curled up next to you under the cover, holding you in his arms, letting his fingers softly graze up and down your back. You were completely exhausted, lying in his arms, he couldn’t hide his prideful smirk, looking down at you and watching you drift off. Moments before you fell asleep he spoke. “Oh… and love?” You hummed to let him know to continue.

Reminding you; “You should never feel like you need to fake your orgasms with me… you can always tell me if you want to stop. Or if something isn’t making you feel good”. He kisses your head, holding your weak body against his.

“Your pleasure is a priority of mine love, I’m more than happy to spend hours between your legs just to make sure you receive it”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod modern warfare #simon ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwf2 #fanfic #fanfiction

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darlingdekarios · 1 year ago

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hide and seek.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 5,555 content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader, reader is referred to as a codename "Freya" and related nickname from Ghost, smut [fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v, mentions of stomach bulge, creampie, oral - receiving], kink(s) [size, outdoors, slight degradation, praise, squirting, cum eating], not beta/proof read deal w/ it

during a training exercise, the lines between hunter and hunted become blurred, and the feelings that have been buried inside claw their way to the surface.

"You can't hide forever, Freya."

Eight hours and fourteen minutes into a training exercise with Taskforce 101, and the two men who remained were starting to question if the words rumbling through their ear piece were correct. Dropped in the mountains within a ten mile radius of one another, it was a game of hide and seek … each of you taking on both roles simultaneously as you tried to remain hidden while taking out your opponents.

It was an honor system - survival of the fittest. Price, of course, at a camp at the base of the mountain, sending a team out to retrieve those who were picked off. Now it had dwindled - only the three of you remained, and the comms channels had been particularly quiet as time ticked by, each of you convinced you'd prove yourself top of the food chain eventually.

But Ghost's voice had interrupted the quiet, your focus broken for a moment as you halted all of your movements, waiting for the forest to respond to his voice. When nothing close to you alerted you dropped your own voice lower to quip back at his taunting, adjusting your position where you currently crouched.

"Just have to outlive you, LT."

"And Gaz. Don't forget about Gaz."

A smile spread across your lips, backpack sliding off your shoulders and to the ground quietly in an effort to increase your movement radius. Your target was well within sight now, the figure hunched over a jet boil that was working to make him a hot meal without smoke.

"Oh, don't worry. I didn't forget about Gaz."

"Well, I'm still here, so you've still gotta worry about me finding you first," the named man finally responded, his voice echoed from the earpiece and from the figure in front of you, carried between the trees as he gave no effort to hide himself, thinking he was without company.

You were moving forward now, using trunks and bushes for cover, stalking toward prey that remained blissfully unaware that its downfall was close enough to see puffs of cold breath from them.

"Not for long."

From there, it was silence from you, any further conversation a threat to giving away your location the closer you drew to him. You could hear the uptick of worry in his voice immediately when he responded, his focus on dinner shattered as he stood again. There was no possibility of him fleeing now, not with hot equipment to turn off and put away. Instead, he'd have to wait for the inevitable.

"What's that mean?" he questioned, head searching around his perimeter desperately in hope to find you before you could reach him. When his question went unanswered the frustration in his voice increased, a subtle shake indicating he was aware of his mistakes. This game was over for him … now he only needed to wait. "Hey, what's that mean?"

"That doesn't sound good, Gaz."

You were trying to ignore the tone Ghost used now as he spoke … the subtle amusement lingering under his tone only spurring you along more. It was over for Gaz before he had a real chance to react.

"Freya, what does that … FUCK!"

His shout was muffled into your hand as you slid up behind him and covered his mouth, a victorious smirk covering your face. Reaching into the pocket of his jacket you activated a GPS tracker to signify his pickup location, moving around him to look him face-to-face. He gave you a nod of respect before you hurried back to the trees, replacing your equipment and setting off on your next target.

"That's Gaz out," Price's voice was smooth in the comms, ready to set the match into its final round. "Ghost, Freya, you're all that's left. Try not to play with your food too much."

"Hmm."

You wondered if Ghost had an advantage position now, if he was looking to the trees for evidence of Gaz's retrieval, perhaps hopeful for a tip toward your location. You were eager to ensure he'd receive none.

"No promises."

"Once the sun goes over the mountains, you're alone for the night. No comms. It becomes true survival. Understood?"

"Copy," the two of you spoke in unison and Price dropped out again, returning the two of you to your isolated setting. As you hiked forward you found an eagerness filling your stomach … butterflies fluttering around as the prospect of facing Simon in this setting as the victor for this game set in on you. He could hear the smile you wore on your face as you all but purred into the comms.

"See you soon, Ghost."

The confidence in your voice sent a shiver down his spine - something he found becoming a common occurrence whenever you were around. From behind his mask his lips curved into an amused smile, though his tone indicated no such thing when he spoke.

"We'll see about that."

"It'll get cold soon, Frey. Once the sun drops over those mountains …"

It had been just under two more hours since you'd taken Gaz out, and things had mostly been silent. Neither of you wanted to outright give away your locations by something as easily avoidable as not remaining silent, so for the most part you had, only responding to Price quickly when he provided time updates.

"If you're worried about a little cold you could always forfeit, Ghost."

The laugh that rumbled in him came through even lower through a microphone like the one you wore now, and while the sound still set all of your nerves ablaze, you wished you could hear it in person. It was a ridiculous offer - Simon Riley had never forfeited in his life and he wouldn't start now, even if it meant sleeping beneath a layer of snow tonight. It was something about him that pulled you in like a magnet, his proven results time and time again securing your unspoken feelings for him.

Feelings you now couldn't afford to focus on with bragging rights of this size at stake. You were well aware of the possibility that Ghost had an eye on you through a scope - he could already be tracking your every move. You were certain that, knowing him, he would be close - he wouldn't allow his last remaining enemy to stray too far.

You still hoped to use that to your advantage, opting to ignore the cockiness in his words.

"Not a chance."

It was only an hour later that the sun was no longer offering any amount of warmth, the last of its gold and orange hues diluted by the beginnings of the night sky.

"Price did say if we're out past sundown we're out for the night."

"You sound scared, Frey. Don't tell me you're afraid of the dark?"

"Not a chance."

Really, you weren't…not now, anyway with every inch of your body burning with the desire to win. You echoed his earlier words to initiate a playful banter the two of you ever really enjoyed alone, inviting him in to another game with the reminder that now, only the two of you remained on the line. Thankfully he took the bait, catching on quickly to what you silently offered.

"You should be…never know what's lurking about…hiding behind a tree, in the shadows."

To his own internal pleasure, the quiet laugh that he allowed to rumble through his chest was joined with your own, the soft sound sending a rush of warmth through his body. Though he'd never admitted aloud - maybe not even fully to himself mentally, in truth - he craved moments like this with you, where your laugh and your casual tone fell easily on his ears like the chirp of birds in the morning.

Instead, he enjoyed his time with you selfishly, the need he felt within him to enjoy more of you buried inside where it would never see the light.

"Could say the same to you, big guy. What's lurking in the shadows around you?"

There was something in your voice that made the hair on his neck stand, something to the tone that piqued his interest further. You were almost purring - he was starting to wonder if Price's request not to play with food was directed entirely at you now. As he focused on your tone, on his surroundings, on taking in the trees around him and desperately trying to ignore the new tightness in his pants, your eyes were on the finish line.

You had slipped free of your boots and socks again, suffering through the cold ground in an effort to quiet yourself further as you stalked your way to him slowly under the cover of darkness. When you could begin to make out details - the pockets on his jacket and pants, the glimmer of zippers as they caught the remaining light, every curve his silhouette offered…you stilled, enjoying the moment.

His breath was visible - heavier than usual. You couldn't help the rush of pride that filled you at even the slightest hint that you had his nerves alight. How many people could say that about Simon Riley? It was a feeling so fulfilling you were almost tempted to bask in it longer, to savor every microsecond it lasted.

But the promise of his reaction was far too enticing to stay hidden for too long, a fact you succumbed to as you silently took more steps toward him.

"Hey, Simon?"

"Hmm?"

"Boo."

Fortunately the ground was soft enough to aid in the jump you sprung into to wrap your legs around his waist from behind, your arms wrapping around his neck and giving the slightest squeeze to accentuate your point. He'd lost.

"Fuck."

"Concede."

When the order was not immediately fulfilled you squeezed ever so slightly harder, only enough to drive it home. This was a fair win. One you'd earned.

But he wasn't hesitating to find a way out…he'd taken an intentional moment to allow you time to bask in your glory - at least, that was better than admitting he just wanted to feel you closer for a moment longer…for as many moments as you'd allow. Regardless of his own wants and completely focused on what would make you happy (though he could already feel it radiating from you), he forced himself to not, a deep breath filling his lungs as you released him.

When you climbed down and he turned to face you, the grin that had spread across your face fell open. In preparation for the dark Simon had already removed his glasses, leaving his sparkling eyes bare for you to see, more of his face exposed now in his balaclava than you'd ever been treated to before.

(Though it was hardly enough. Your curiosity about what would greet you beneath the black fabric grew by the day…by the second now as you made eye contact like you'd never been able to before.)

In the depths of his eyes your own pride was matched, telling you enough about his thoughts on your win that the words could truly go unspoken. He studied you carefully, enjoying the curve to your lips as a coy smirk and how somehow still, despite the pride, a neediness flooded behind it all, something as primal and feral as the forest's inhabitants.

"How long have you been on me?"

"Right after I picked up Gaz, he was trailing you from the southeast."

The mask's fabric shifted confirming the light smile that played on his lips, his eyes burning into yours now. As intense as his gaze was (it always was, why should now be any exception?) you were lost it in, searching for a hint of what he was thinking…what he was feeling. He was an expert at this - at hiding, at interrogating, he could easily pick you apart and have the answers he wanted flowing from you with only a little more effort.

With you, however, it required no intimidation to coax what he wanted from you.

"You could've caught up before sundown, then," it was a simple statement, his eyes not leaving yours as he took a knee on his sleeping pack before you, digging in his bag for a small towel and a fresh pair of socks. He motioned for you to take a seat on the rock he'd set up camp next to, nodding in appreciation when you adhered. "Your pace is faster than that."

You hadn't known him very long - you weren't even technically part of the task force as it stood. It has been almost a year, however…nearly twelve months of knowing the man who now knelt before you, carefully wiping mud from your feet and handling you like you would shatter if he wasn't softer than a hummingbird's feather. You didn't know what to expect of physical contact from him…but this degree of gentleness was certainly not it until this moment.

You thanked him for his delicacy by ensuring your eyes never left his face, eager to meet his gaze again whenever his found you again.

"Could've, yeah," you confirmed when he started to slip the warm socks onto your feet, his attention now nearly fully returned to maintaining eye contact with you. You were aware that with each passing moment your heart was beating faster…even more aware that you couldn't stop it even if you tried. "You could've tried to track me."

"Could've done."

"Why didn't you?"

He was still on his knees in front of you - in fact, there was no sign he intended to move now.

"Wanted to see how long it took you to find me. Wanted to see how you'd approach."

You'd never heard his voice like this - so quiet it offered no disruption to the peaceful mountains around you. Not quiet like he normally was to avoid an enemy, quiet to pinpoint that the words were only for you. As if you needed another reason to be attracted to him - as if the very definition of perfection could get any better.

"Did you find my methods satisfactory?"

The longer his eyes burned into yours the easier it was to ignore the dropping temperatures in the air around you.

"I did."

His praise - even just that was enough to be considered such - struck you to your core. You found yourself speechless, your face burning. Unaware for a moment as one of his hands rested against your knee, uncaring that you probably looked foolish as all you could do now was stare. He was willing to hold your gaze for as long as you offered it - a dangerous fact.

"If you're trying to prove yourself to Price, you don't need t' put yourself at more a risk of injury to do it. Proper footwear is important."

"I'm not proving myself to Price. I'm proving myself to you."

He'd been choosing to ignore the signs from you - opting for the safety of denying what was transpiring between the two of you now for the security it provided. It seemed those days were gone - even the air around you seemed to be pushing the two of you together.

Still, this was a territory he'd convinced himself was forbidden, and in his internal fight as to how to move forward it allowed you a moment of doubt. It was you who spoke again before he got the chance, eager to explain your actions further.

Not that you owed it or he expected it…you needed it now to fill the silence.

"I wanted to hear it from you…that I bested you," he could hear the doubt blossoming on the back of your words - it wasn't like you to share like this, it was much safer to keep things to yourself. But if you did that forever, he would as well…and the reality was, you were more willing to break the unspoken rule with yourself before he was. "I wanted to hear the pride in your voice. To see it in your eyes."

His eyes found yours again as he reached a hand toward your face, hesitating for a moment just centimeters away to give you the chance to slap his hand away, waiting for any action from you that confirmed the doubts ever-present in the back of his mind. Instead, ever so subtly your head leaned closer to his hand, inviting the distance to be closed.

All the signs were there, and now he just had to read them.

He grasped your chin between his fingers and held you gently as he drew closer to you, his free hand reaching up to push the bottom half of his mask up. His lips were more inviting than any you'd seen before - it was a cruelty that he covered them, a gift at the same time to your focus.

(For the record - you'd gladly sacrifice your focus if it meant watching his tongue run across his bottom lip. A momentary lapse of your attention was well worth witnessing the way he invited you in now.)

"Who knew you could be so needy?" he questioned, his tongue swiping across his lips again, finger tapping your chin playfully. That alone sent you clenching around nothing - just that taunting question was enough to fully spiral you into desire. "Why don't you tell me why you kept us out here after dark first?"

Your face was burning - every inch of you was burning. Simon was an intelligent man - your plan to string the game along longer hardly a secret now. It was your turn to concede - he'd found you out. Somehow, you couldn't even begin to remotely care.

"For this. This moment alone."

He had come so close now that the distance between your lips could hardly be considered decent. With the smallest movement either of you could have closed it - a kiss both of you had long awaited in silence a promise now.

"Are you hoping for a reward?"

Your mouth had never been this dry and you could only nod, savoring the way his free hand now ran up your side, urging you forward slightly. He began to lean closer, slower than you'd ever seen him move before, to demonstrate where he intended to go, hoping you would follow his lead - hoping you could be the one to initiate what was to come.

"Use your words."

"Yes."

Like a flock of birds startled by a sound too loud cracking in the night like thunder you came crashing together like lightning, his lips finding yours like they'd already done so a thousand times before now. With his strength he had you on your feet and against a tree in the time it took for a gasp to fall from your mouth. He paused, dark gaze softening briefly as he waited for you to give any sort of show that you wanted him to stop. When you didn't, his lips finally claimed yours as your hands pulled him in firmer by grasping his collar.

It was heated - both of you had waited for this moment while simultaneously avoiding it since you'd met, but now that it was here it demanded everything from you - the kiss itself was all-consuming. As your lips and tongues danced together both of you allowed your hands to explore under shirts as best you could. His hands engulfed you - any part of you he grabbed was with as much as he could possibly get his hands on, noticeably holding himself back from grasping tighter in an effort to spare you from bruises.

Until your nails ran down his abs hard enough to leave red trails in their place and he took the unsaid words as further permission, his finger tips digger into your hips harder as he leaned more of his weight against you, truly pinning you to the tree. He gave you a moment to breathe - your vision blurred as you blinked up at him, eager to see the swirls of color in his eyes this close but still hopelessly wanton for his mouth on you some more.

A light smirk played on his lips at your expression - pupils and eyes wide and your already swollen lips remained parted, desperate and shallow breaths falling from your lips. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing his lips to your jaw, dragging them back until he reached your ear with a gentle nip at the lobe.

"'s this what you wanted, dove?"

You could hear the desire fueling his words and could only whimper and nod in response as his lips connected to your neck, one of his hands releasing its hold on your hip to unhook the button of your pants. His lips reached lower, beneath where a collar would normally sit on you to suck a spot that raised goosebumps all across your skin as your zipper was undone. You realized you'd yet to give him the verbal response he probably required and it came from your chest as a broken moan as his hand slipped into your pants, pushing your underwear to the side.

"Y-yes, sir."

It was his turn to groan now, his fingers spreading your folds to spread the slick that had already started to leak from you. He bit into the spot he'd been paying attention to, uncaring if it left a mark for others to see in more casual settings, savoring the gasp and moan that fell from your lips and the way your hands desperately clawed at his sides to hold you to earth as your hips bucked forward, his fingers teasing your entrance as they did.

"Fuckin' soaked already, eh, love?" his taunt was directly below your ear followed by a loving swipe of his tongue, uncaring of the sweat that had gathered on your skin throughout the day and cherishing everything you had to offer. His fingers traced your hole slowly, teasing you with the slightest entrance several times before he continued. "I've barely touched you, y'filthy girl…"

You could once again only whimper as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with a quiet 'tsktsktsk' sounding against his teeth, his muttered words of praise and degradation muddled by your hazy mind as he stretched you open. He was well attuned to what your body responded to, pumping the thick digits into your tight sex with the perfect speed, rubbing against the most sensitive and velvet part of your walls perfectly each time to pull more moans from you.

His lips found yours again when he was satisfied you'd finally caught your breath enough to meet you in another bruising kiss, his hand that wasn't focused on fucking your cunt reaching to work his own pants partially down his thighs, freeing his throbbing cock with a grunt. You could tell by the speed to which his fingers entering you picked up and the rough grasp on one of your hands that he needed you just as desperately, guiding your hand to his cock and groaning again into your mouth as you wrapped your hand around his thick shaft, stroking his length tenderly.

As you continued to ensure your hand paid attention to every inch of him available he worked your pants down, making sure to quietly ask you if you were too cold in doing so and rewarding you with a gentler kiss and pressing closer to you when you shook your head. You could feel an orgasm building in you heavily and he picked up on the cues your body provided like it was something he'd been doing for a long time already, pumping his fingers faster as he continued to relentlessly kiss you.

"Go on, then," he coaxed against your lips, still not pulling away enough to give you a chance to suck in a full breath. You were dizzy, vision blurred already as every cell in your body focused on finding release. "Get nice and messy for me to fuck you."

It was that promise that sent you over the edge, the first wave of euphoria crashing over you and blinding your vision as you gushed around his fingers, the sloppy sounds of them entering your spasming repeatedly bringing a smile to his lips. He gave you the chance to breathe finally, releasing you from his kiss as his fingers abandoned your white hot core, hands grasping your hips to lift you upward. You realized your hand had fallen away from his cock as you'd worked through the initial hit of your orgasm and reached for it again, guiding it between the folds of your pussy and guiding it back and worth as he situated you between him and the tree, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were closer to his face now and could see the emotions in his eyes more - the hunger and need that filled him pouring from his expression and accentuated by a groan as your slick was spread over his cock. His words were barely more than a growl - the conflict deep behind each one only evident because you understood him. "Shouldn't…fuck you raw, dove. Such a bad fuckin' idea…"

You whined to communicate your dissatisfaction, already desperate to feel every inch of him buried in you and logic chased from your mind this soon after one orgasm had rushed through you. You reached between your bodies to rub your thumb over the pre-cum leaking from his swollen cock, grinding against him more. He was coated in your slick already - the fact he could slip into you with enough aid from just that unfocusing his mind.

"Need you, Simon…"

Of course it was his name on your lips that silenced his worries - that completely erased them. He adjusted quickly and with one swift movement his cock was stretching you, splitting you open on inch after inch as his lips found yours again. It was a fact that his length was too much for you to take in full, one you ignored happily and in a moderate state of drunken bliss until he'd bottomed out in you, tip pushing against your cervix. One of his hands remained attached to your hip and the other reached to press against your stomach and the bulge, adding to the pressure seated in your core so much you already started seeing stars again.

"Y'okay, princess?"

Any other time you'd have snipped at him not to call you that, but now as he muttered it in a slightly higher pitch, his whisper desperate and light against your lips you couldn't bring yourself to mind the name - with his cock buried in you you only nodded in response. His eyes met yours again before he leaned his forehead against yours, giving you a moment to focus on the feeling of his pulling his cock out from your velvet walls slowly.

He waited for a moment, teasing you with a delicate kiss to your bottom lip before he sheathed himself into you fully again with one swift thrust, hand pressing down against your stomach again. The sound of your pussy accepting him in with a squelch combined with the moan that ripped from your chest was pornographic and addicting, and he immediately entered a bruising pace to repeat it as much as he could - greedily working for another release from you.

You were thankful that his resolve had completed melted away as he got lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock on each entry, moans and grunts repeatedly falling from his lips as he fucked into you. While most of his hand stayed pressed against his own bulge inside you he reached his thumb down to your clit to rub the swollen nub, eagerly claiming your mouth again with his tongue when a moan erupted from it.

He continued his efforts relentlessly but gave you another break to breathe to lower his head to your neck again, kissing a trail down to your collarbone where he nibbled lightly, testing how the added stimulation would effect you. Despite the repeated moans and whimpers falling from your lips - it wasn't enough from him, the need to push you over the edge and prove to you the months of this building was worth it fueling his movements with primal need.

His hold on your hip became harder as his speed increased, thrusting into you desperately and rough. Distantly you could hear him praising you repeatedly as your walls began to squeeze his length tighter, mumbling quiet words of appreciation into your skin interchangeably between biting and licking and sucking. When your legs began to shake around him, he knew you were close and while he could've continued on just how he was he pressed for more, fucking into your harder with bruising thrusts into you.

(In the morning you'd remark that he could've taken it easier on you considering you had a hell of a hike back to camp and it would only be worse with a bruised cervix and hips. He'd only offer you a smirk as he remarked the pain would be good for you.

But he'd carry you for however long you asked him to if it was too much.)

"That's it, dove," he cooed, adjusting to look into your face again. "Want you to cum on my cock…want to see how messy we can make you, yeah?"

You nodded, vision blurred as you met his eyes again, eager to see the gaze of adoration he was now offering to you. His lips twisted into a smirk at the sight of your mouth hanging open, a bit of drool running down your chin - something you hadn't noticed and would've felt embarrassed over if he hadn't leaned forward and greedily swiped at it with his tongue, kissing you deeply again.

It was then that a second orgasm was pulled from you - but between the stimulation of the head of his cock rubbing against the perfect spot inside you, his thumb circling your clit, and his lips kissing you as though it was life sustaining this time your release squirted from you, your release coating his cock, waist, and thighs. A low groan rumbled in his chest and his speed picked up again, savoring the feeling of your walls clenching around him and milking his own release from him.

He opened his mouth to try to warn you it was coming - a lost cause when you abandoned his kiss to attach your lips to his neck and jaw, lightly nipping and licking at several sensitive spots that were typically covered to the world. He grasped your hip tighter and stilled his movements otherwise as he filled you with his release, his hot seed creating such a large load that it was already leaking from you around him.

You continued to kiss on his jaw as you both came down again, Simon waiting until he was certain you wouldn't fall before he removed his length from you, gently lowering you back to the ground. His eyes remained transfixed on your combined releases leaking down your thighs for a moment, conflicting emotions once again flooding his expression as he gazed at you. Just as you opened your mouth to ask if he was okay he dropped to his knees, using one hand pressed against your stomach to pin you to the tree again as the other lifted one of your legs over his shoulder.

He leaned forward to lick each of your thighs clean - you wished he'd removed his mask briefly so you could tangle your fingers in his hair, the thought was abandoned when he leaned forward fully to connect his flattened tongue to your folds, licking a slow stripe through them gently. You gasped and grasped at what you could, landing on holding the hand over your stomach and the back of his head, anchoring him to you.

He was happy to accept the way you pulled his head forward, burying it into your cunt more until his nose was pressed to your clit. His tongue found your hole and fucked into it, greedily slurping in as much of your releases as he could. It was entirely too much the way he swirled his tongue and sucked against you hungrily, but you still couldn't silence the loud cry of disappointment when his mouth abandoned you only to stand and kiss you again, silencing your whine with his tongue sharing what he hadn't swallowed for himself already.

When he released you again he leaned his forehead against yours, a lazy smirk spread across his lips that matched the smug energy radiating from him. With a shaking voice you quipped at him, unashamed of what he'd reduced you to and completely pleased with how your plan had come to fruition.

"Price told us not to play with our food."

The way his laugh huffed from him in his breathless state was intoxicating, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip briefly catching your gaze and transfixing you again.

"What Price doesn't know won't hurt him.

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