#sub!simon riley

[partiallysame]

So what if Simon Ghost Riley was a sub?

Simon didn’t know he’d like being submissive as much as he did. Didn’t know how much he’d enjoy turning his brain off and being your good boy. He spends all day giving orders, being in charge of literal lives. Spends all day yelling, what’s so wrong about coming home and whimpering? Spends all day giving orders, what’s so wrong about wanting to be told what to do. Spends all day in charge of life and death, what’s so wrong about only wanting to be in charge of your pleasure. Nothing wrong with swapping the balaclava for a collar, right? Nothing wrong with wanting to be on his knees in front of you after spending all day looking down on others. So what if big bad Ghost likes to come home and get fucked until he cries? It’s not a big deal right?

[machveil]

POOKIE!! hear me out a fic for an extremely sub!ghost like to the point where he's on his hands and knees literally sobbing his heart out because he wants to eat you out and you're denying him because you're just enjoying watching him beg but eventually you give in

(I'm ovulating don't judge me im not usually this cruel 😭)

pookie… I see and hear you, I feel you in my bones we’re jumping straight in

CW: Fem!Reader, Sub!Ghost, weepy Simon Riley to soothe the soul… and other things, clothed humping, oral (fem!receiving)

tactical gear still fastened and balaclava tugged up just over his nose, the sight before you has your thighs pressed together as you sit on the edge of his bed. Ghost, in all his glory, sitting at your feet - tears wetting his eyelashes and balaclava as he looks up at you. he’s still large even when he’s kneeling, but the way he’s behaving makes him look so small

the last deployment he had been on, one where you stayed back at base, had taken such a toll on him. all in one piece, but exhausted and sore. he was admittedly gross right now, sweaty and gear dirty from field work, but god— as soon as he had guided you to his room he all but fell to his knees for you. “Please, jus’ wanna taste you sweet’art.”, strained, voice ragged and gravelly from giving out constant streams of orders. pitiful, deep brown eyes gazing at you as he tugged his mask up

something about the way he looked made a spark flicker to life in your chest, heat pooling in your gut. Ghost is never like this, your Ghost would never be like this - let alone on base. your Simon Riley? that’s what makes this all too familiar, the way he’s looking up at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars. that’s saved for the comfort of your home, your shared flat back in Manchester. to see him like this? a needy, desperate man crawling towards you, resting his chin on your lap? who could blame you for wanting to see a little more?

it almost makes you feel bad when a choked sob leaves his lips - you had let him slip your slacks off, pooled around your boots. your boots, maybe that was why Ghost’s eyebrows were screwed together as he sloppily mouthed at your thighs. “You can— just need you to cum for me first, Ghost.”, maybe that request was too cruel for him, you knew him too well. the sight of him grinding his painfully hard bulge against your boot, spit and drool slicking your thighs as he cried against your lap. you know he can’t, not like this. Ghost— Simon’s too used to you helping him

he can’t cum, not without you - your hand, your mouth, anything you’re willing to give him, even if it’s just his mouth pleasing you. skin on skin contact, it’s nothing compared to grinding on your boot or using his hand. his sclera are tinted red at the edges, salty tears mixing with his spit as he sucks at your thighs, anything to keep his mouth occupied as his hips buck against your shoe. five minutes, five minutes too long when Simon looks up at you. scarred lips smeared with his own saliva, a broken little hiccup followed by a shoulder shaking sob leaves him, “Missed you— please, please, lemme make you feel good, lovie, m’sorry.”

he nearly breaks down when you shift to tug your underwear down, shaky hands coming up to rest on your knees. before you can even finish saying ‘okay’ Simon is parting your legs, slotting himself between your plush thighs. sloppy, a man starved of affection and your cunt for weeks. it would have tugged at your heartstrings if you were paying attention to him, head lolled back as he desperately sucks on your clit. if you had been paying attention you would have caught his sobs, your poor Simon, crying against your cunt. as good as you feel, Simon’s already gone, underwear soaked through as soon as he had his mouth on you

[thephantomsdream]

Simon with a collar on, held by a leash and head thrown back as all he does is slam into you, your sweet praises filling his ears.

"Good boy." You'd moan, feeling his big cock fill you up as you just take it. It's all you needed, your sweet baby to fuck you from behind as you disconnect. And good thing you had an obedient man that did anything you wanted eagerly.

"You feel so good, baby." He'd groan at your words and look down at your thick ass bouncing with every slam of his hips into you, watching his cock spread your cunt again and again. He'd grab a handful of your ass fat, growl like the filthy animal he was and slam harder, earning a good scream from you.

Filthy fucking girl. He'd spit out if he could, but it didn't matter. He was just as fucking filthy, collared up, leash in your land pulling him towards you, owning every fiber of his being, ordering him to slut himself only for you. You owned him anyway. Yes, you fucking did. With every order, every touch, every glance, he was yours to command.

And he thrived when you did. Simon was made to be your dog, your rabid animal that only you could take and tame, even if at times the leash was for decoration, since taming him seemed to be the last thing you wanted.

Rough, dirty, filthy, all he had to do was pound your cunt and manhandle you. As he just was, lost himself in your core, mind dizzy, no other thoughts but you, his owner, mistress, love.

And as he watched you throw your head back, he put his hand around your throat to keep it there. The moan he got from you drove him wild, just as the way you pulled the leash onto you, making him lean down, glue his torso to your back as he still fucked you raw, rough and good.

"That's it, baby. Give it to me harder." Orders whispered into his ear as he held your throat still, by his head, and braced himself, spreading his legs for stability and plummeted, his heavy breathing hitting your ear.

And as you threw your head back, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, you saw it in his eyes, the way he was lost into the passion of the moment, teeth gritted and sweat falling from his temple. He was reduced to his most animalistic instinct, all he truly craved the moment you put that collar on him.

Lost in your dripping cunt, you smiled at him, your temple touching his, feeling his other hand take a handful of your tit and groan, the vibrations of his chest hitting your back, cock burried deep inside of you.

"My sweet baby." You coo, feeling it arrive. A wave of ecstasy as your whole body burns in heat, and he feels it too, as if connected, and bites into your neck, slurping on the sweat and meat, one objective in mind. And while all he chases was you cumming and creaming his cock, he agrees with you. He is sweet, isn't it? He slams into you, hearing your whines. He's being so good for you, isn't he? He slams again, his grip on your throat tightens, and so does your cunt around him. He's your good boy, yeah? He felt it, your pussy spasming. You love him, don't you? He drilled harder.

And as you finally came, screaming like a desperate whore for him, he saw you fall to the side and smirk at him, dizzy, breathless, heavy tits lifting and falling with each of your pants. And you looked up at him, smirking, knowing he isn't done. He kneeled on the bed, panting hard, waiting. Cock hard and wet, your cream at his base and pre-cum leaking from the tip. And he waited.

"Aww, baby. You aren't done, aren't you?" You coo and tease, adjusting to lay on your back and spread your legs, then with a quick movement of your wrist, you pulled the leash towards you.

"Come here, puppy. Fill me up good, yeah?" It was all he needed to hear before he descended onto you.

[starlit-writer]

sooooooo yall got ch. 3 of in sickness and in health sooooooo i can now post a one-shot of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written, right?

[gvnwitchrxse]

‼️I NEED More Sub!Ghost x Femdom!Reader‼️

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In general, there's hardly sub!Ghost fanfictions and I'm becoming very irritated by that 😖😫‼️

It gets tiresome after reading and coming across to so many fanfictions of Ghost 'man-handling' readers 😵😷

More Mommy and baby boy kinks pls (my personal favorite) 🥺🙏 It would be amazing 😍

‼️Reblog to Spread the Word ‼️✨❤️‍🔥

[gvnwitchrxse]

THIS! THIS! THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!

dom simon this dom simon, that WHAT ABOUT SUB!SIMON

what about simon who falls apart at your touch, gets whiny and needy, ruts his leaking cock onto your shoe as he eats you out. humping at you like a dog in heat. almost cumming when you degrade him.

what about simon who rolls his eyes to the back of his head when he first pushes into your heat. soft, breathy moans fall from his lips as he starts shaking, his rhythm sloppy because he cant get over how heavenly you feel around his cock.

what about simon who melts when you praise him, scratch his head when he does good. cums untouched when you play with his nipples.

what about simon who loves to be a pillow princess. laying down on the bed letting you do whatever you want to him without any complaints. always pliant and soft. not being bratty at all, just a perfect pet for you.

what about simon who cries during sex because it all feels too good and becomes too much very fast. your cunt milking his overstimulated cock as he sobs and writhes below you.

simon who loves to let go of the control when he's underneath you. his hands always working reverently to touch you, make you feel as good as you make him feel.

just,, sub simon.

[bitin-and-barkin]

STRONG OLDER MEN. I want to see a man, so rough and tough in the streets actually be a big sweetheart and SO nervous in bed. All flustered and whiney, rutting against your thigh like a one dollar whore. I need to see them overstimulated and crying from pleasure while you suck them off or eat them out. I want to see them be so scared about hurting you while they fuck you oh so gently, SO horny, but so afraid of hurting you. I wanna see one cry and whimper into your neck while they ride you soo well like a good boy <3 you let them cum as much as they want because they're being soo good for you (and they NEED that privilege cause they are soo sensitive and will cum so much) and they eat ALL of your praise up

[dxddyspup]

okay but if bf!simon or husband!simon is in love with you he would never keep his mask on during sex.

you've told him that it's fine. maybe that it even turns you on

but he just can't help but see it as disrespectful not to let his pretty girl see his face, ESPECIALLY because he's clingy and needs to be kissing you at all times.

smth about respect. smth about honor. whatever it is, you can't seem to convince him that it's okay so it becomes you're goal in your relationship for a few weeks til he finally does give in. (because he will always give in for his girl)

[simonz-angel]

jackin off nerdy!loser!college partner simon riley

his pen falls, fingers going limp as your lips press against his. he’s soft, pliable beneath your fingertips, arching into your every feathery touch, panting into your mouth messily.

your notebooks lay open and abandoned, paper ticking softly with the chill of wind that passes through the open window. and simon’s chin hitches, tongue pressing and threading around yours sloppily, inexperiencedly.

and when you’re fingertips dip beneath the thin material of his stretchy joggers, he’s gasping in a broken moan, the angry tip of his cock leaking in a pearly mess of precum.

“you’re mine, simon,” you breathe into the open shell of his mouth, tongue swiping his bottom lip, tasting him up on your tongue. your fingertips disappear into the scratchy, sandy curls that frame his pretty cock, hand fisting up around him so suddenly he chokes. “say it.”

his big brown eyes peer up at you dizzily, a haze blurring his usual intense stare. he’s panting, hair disheveled, glasses cocked crooked over the bridge of his nose. “i-i’m yours, i’m yours, yes..”

he’s whining, hips reeling up off the floor as you wrist flicks, pulling the skin of his cock taut before you’re smoothing your hand back down. you watched over him, free hand digging up into the short of his blonde hair, pulling his drooping head back to get a real look at him.

you’d must admit, he was a pretty, pretty boy. the dripping honey of his eyes encapsulated with his sparkling blonde lashes, crooked nose dented in on the sides with his glasses, his pretty pink lips lathered in a lewd mixture of your saliva. and he panted hot, open-mouthed against your face, staring up at you with some dumbed down look.

“when you ace me through this semester, baby, you’ll get the real thing, ‘kay?” you pout down at him, bringing one of his hands beneath your skirt. n when his fingertips skim over the wet fabric of your panties, your desperate pussy clenches, stomach rolling with his hesitant touches. “until then… “

[alpacwip]

I feel absolutely feral

Hallowed by Your Hands

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader

Rating: explicit (18+ mdni)

Classification: flashfic

Summary: a little rambling but it’s pure filth, my loves

Warnings: smut, penetrative sex, porn with feelings, sub!ghost, softestdom!reader, touch-starved, desperate!ghost, needy!ghost, obsessed!ghost, crying, brief mentions of killing/violence, the briefest mention of a knife

Simon “Ghost” Riley is inexperienced and touch-starved and I will die on this hill. He is pathetic and clingy and overwhelmed and completely fucking obsessed with you.

This man. This man okay. ‬

He will wrap all 6 foot whatever, 200+ pounds of himself around you. Face buried in your neck, arms around you, forearms pressed against your back, hands grasping at your shoulders, your waist, whimpering at the feel of you. Lock your ankles around his waist and pull him harder against you and he will sob into your neck. ‬

Needy, pathetic, gasping, hips twitching, wet eyes, sobbing against your skin. God, you want him close? He wants to crawl into your bones. Wants to fucking live there. He can’t believe you want him close. Close enough to hurt you — he knows you know he could kill you, easily — and you’re still letting him put his hands on you. Begging you for more without believing he deserves what he’s already getting. He can’t help but be greedy. Can’t help but feel shamefully guilty about it either.

Yank his hair, make him look at you, his eyes twitchy and darting around — he can’t bear to make eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time — shame, shame, shame, please, please, please. Teeth sunk into his bottom lip, keening when you move against him. Shuttering and crying, holding you so tight it bruises. Crying harder when you brush away his tears, breath hitching when you press kisses all over his face. Forgetting how to breathe entirely when you kiss and bite and suck at his neck. Stuttering mess, screwing his eyes shut to try to talk, tripping over his words but he can’t stop babbling. ‬

“Feel so fucking good, you feel so good. You- fuck, f- hhgn- fuck, make me f-feel. So. G-good. How- ah- how do you feel so- feel so- ah! Ah, ah, nghh, please, p-le-ase, pl-ease, please,”

Panting, whining mess. Still wrapped around you. Desperate. Undeserving. Can’t let go. Won’t let go. Can’t. Never. You’ll have to kill him. Have to kill him. But you don’t. Won’t. You’ve never even hurt him. So soft, so warm, make him feel so good it aches down to his bones, but you’ve never hurt him. He knows, trusts somehow, that you won’t hurt him. Driving into you like it’s his only purpose, hips jerking in short stunted thrusts, grinding against you when he looses focus, trying to keep his cock as deep inside you as he can, face burning red when you call him out for humping against you like a dog in heat.

Stammering, looking away, moaning — open and loud — when you touch his face to make him look at you, telling him to take what he needs. Never hurt him. Hand on his side, stroking, petting his skin. Fingers twisted in his hair, burning, electric, so so good. You touch as much of him as you can reach and he thanks you for it, sweeping your fingers over his fevered skin, he thinks he might die with it. Everywhere you touch glows and he feels holy from it — hallowed by your hands alone.

The broken, wounded-animal noise he lets out when you press your hand against the back of his neck, squeezing the sides ever so slightly as you pull him down to kiss. He’s killed people like that, the brutal dig of his fingers against their airway. He’d let you, he thinks — as you lick into his mouth and he whimpers when you nip you teeth against his lip — he’d let you wrap both your beautiful hands around his throat from the front, he’d let you squeeze until his vision went fuzzy and his lungs burned with it, and he’d trust you to do it. Fuck, he’d let you hold a fucking knife to his throat. The thoughts makes his cock twitch inside you. You’d never hurt him. Feels so fucking good.

He’s a mess of heat and scar tissue and strength. Leathal power clinging to you like a lifeline. You hold him together. Searing through all his jagged-edged pieces like molten fucking gold till it’s all he can see, all he can feel — the warm honey haze of you. You, you, you. Bright as the fucking sun. You. The beginning and end of everything he could ever want.

Breathy, whimpering, keening noises as he cums. He gasps and paws at you, trying to pull you even closer. Groaning as you praise him, basking in being your good boy as he shivers through the last of his orgasm. Sobs and whines and says “thank you, thank you” the whole time. God, he wants you branded into his skin.

You’ll have to wait a bit until you can convince him to let you up to get a rag. Embarrassed but loose limbed and relaxed as you clean him up and kiss his eyelids and make him drink a glass of water. He’s never felt so fucking loved. Never felt so safe as he lays — on his stomach between your thighs, settled heavy on you, his head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, arms locked around your waist — and you play with his hair and soothe your hands across his shoulders and tell him how good, how beautiful, how perfect, how loved he is. He puts your sweet words against his heart, lines his ribcage with them, like armor.

He says it — his biggest and most treasured truth — softly, carefully, reverently, against your skin, “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you so much,”

[partiallysame]

Ghost gets no bitches and he reminds me of whatever that TikTok audio is that’s like “how’d you get her?” And the other person is like “get her? No she grabbed me by the throat and told me I was hers”.

Word count: 800

Warnings: none (ghost being immediately whipped)

So hear me out you’re at the grocery store and while walking down the aisles you see this behemoth of a man. Big muscle sexy, surgical mask covering his face. You want. What to say? How should you approach? Ah yes you need help getting something from the top shelf. Stepping so you’re in his line of sight

“Could you come here?” You ask him and he just gives you a blank stare. Raising your eyebrows clearly waiting for a response he turns around looking for who you could be talking to and who is clearly not listening to you. When he sees no one else in the aisle he slowly points at himself, questioning you. “Yes you.” You smile trying to hold in a laugh. Quickly adding a “please” in the sweetest little voice and he is scurrying over to you.

“Could you please reach that box for me?” Ghost raises his arm up and points to a box when you nod confirming that’s the one you want he hands it to you. “That one too please” he obeys. You have him hand you two more boxes (not needing any of them). Then you try to push your luck a little. “Wait not this one” you hand him a box back and he returns it to the shelf. Before you know it you’ve had this man put all the boxes back just to hand them to you again. A smirk plastered on your face. Not once did the large man question you, not when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes.

“Ok done with this aisle. Come on.” You start walking and his feet are following you. He hasn’t said a word to you but is following you around the store like a puppy. Down the next aisle you pointed at something (well within your reach) and he handed it you.

“Are you always this obedient?” You watched his eyes go wide but he found himself nodding. He’d probably say yes to anything you ask when you’re looking at him like that, like you want to eat him whole. His answer brought a smile to your face and he swore his knees were gonna buckle. You held out your hand, “phone.” It was a statement not a question and he quickly (fumbling) pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. When you saw it was locked you looked up at him moving the phone ever so slightly towards him. You had meant for him to take the phone and unlock it but instead he mumbled out “0000” a small but dramatic gasp left your lips “oh so he does speak.” You typed in the 4 digits and the phone opened. You looked up at him when the basic passcode worked. “Simple and obedient. Just how I like ‘em” ghost swallowed hard. No one has ever treated him like this. Spoke to him like this. Not even Price. He should be offended? Insulted? Definitely not turned on. Right? (mark him down and scared AND horny). You handed his phone back to him, your number and name resting on his screen. He reached to take the phone from you, but you didn’t let go. Fingers touching you looked up at him “you better call me. I’ll be real sad if you dont.” He swore he was gonna pass out. Before you let go of his phone, hands still touching, heavy steps made their way into your aisle.

“Aye lieutenant there ye are. Been wandering round lookin fer ya.” Soap called down the aisle.

Ghost refused to acknowledge his friend calling for him, keeping eye contact with you. Your smile got bigger as you let go of the phone.

“Lieutenant huh? That mean you know how to give orders too?” He nodded again. “Then I’m definitely going to need you to call me. I’d like to see that.” Your eyes shamelessly raked down his figure. Fuck he needs to hold on to something.

Once you finally walked away, Soap approached quickly asking who you were and when ghosted shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know.” (But he’s gonna that’s for sure)

“She’s a fine looking lass I’m gonna go talk to her.” Ghost’s hand moved fast, grabbing the back of Soap’s neck guiding (pushing) him in the opposite direction of you. He was thanking god you saw him first and not Soap. If you had talked to Soap like that, ghost knew you’d have him walking on a leash (who’s he kidding if you had asked ghost would’ve barked)

Part 2 Part 2.5 part 3

[dmitriene]

kissing at simon's riley tummy, out of pure tenderness, laying between his spread legs, meaty and muscled as his thighs tremble, tensing, your soft lips trailing along the fuzzed hairs that trail beneath his boxer briefs, where he's all swollen, leaking a large, wet spot against the fabric, twitching at your every little smooch, your hands playing with the dusted hairs at his thighs.

soft layers of pale skin, scarred and uneven beneath your every touch, every little sweep, his stomach padded with gained fat and yielding muscles, rippling lightly when you lick across the area, suckling a gentle bruise, something yours along the canvas of painful experiences on his body, something holding the love in it.

simon huffs, breathing heavily through his slacked mouth, eyelids heavy and framing the murky irises of his eyes with quivering, translucent eyelashes, peering at you when you tease too close to his cock, heavily swollen against his leg, as you pepper kisses against the cotton of his boxers, feeling the throb of the engorged girth, the bulging veins.

he let's you tease him gladly, cloak in these raking up and down touches and lingering kisses, sometimes so close, sometimes too far, yet still enjoyable as your warm breath sweeps across his skin, soothing and pulling throaty, needy sounds that make simon purse his lips together tightly, holding them, fighting the whimpers as his hips buckle, eyes watering.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[zg0nuwa]

i’m not switching between my hyperfixations because i’m autistic, i’m just a whore

[gvnwitchrxse]

🤤❤️‍🔥

Good ol’ Boy.

@celestialsun888

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

Genre: Filthy Smut! [+18 MDNI]

Word Count: 2.6k

Synopsis: Ghost pushes you just enough to see if you have it in you to top him.

★ TW: Bottom!Simon/ Top!Reader, heavy teasing, Simon being a little shit, size kink (ofc ofc), vulgar language, slight angst if you use binoculars, public sex, knife play, slight overstimulation, face sitting/riding (f!receiving), *slight* voyeurism, established relationship (more like fwb), he calls you mommy like once, (Let me know if I’ve missed any!)

✒ Authors Note: I had to bc the switch in me said so. Also: who doesn’t wanna hear him whimper? ;3 Also also, idk shit about MW2/ the military and all that, I am just hyper fixated on this man so if something isn't accurate pls spare me lol. This also isn't super proofread so if there are mistakes, shhh.

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Simon always had a way of getting under your skin. Knowing all the right buttons to push and saying all the right words that provoked you. 

You and Simon had been seeing each other casually a short while after you joined task force 141. He showed little restraint in making teasing passes at you during training, making the other members catch on quickly to you and the Lieutenants relationship. Soap even questioned you about it often, shelling out jokes he knew he couldn’t make around Ghost. 

You hated how Ghost just knew you so well, how observant he was. One small change and he knew it. 

“What’s with you today?” His husky voice questioned, taking off his gear and throwing it onto his bed. The room was small and cramped allowing little space for separation from his words. Thankful for a short break from training that allowed for little free time. His eyes followed your figure as you stripped yourself of your gear as well. Observing you intently. 

“Nothing.” You huffed. You remained focused on the floor, the walls. Anything but him. 

He hesitated from undressing, watching your demeanor stiffen as you felt his sharp gaze cut into your back. You didn't have to look at him to know, his presence was suffocating on its own. You knew when he watched you. The strangely gentle noise of his footsteps inched along the wooden floor, creaking with every step. Each step closer made you nervous to continue undressing, you kept your back to him avoiding any kind of contact. Rough, firm hands positioned themselves on your shoulder, gently tracing down to your wrists. He always managed to make you feel engulfed by him, his size taunting you. His chest was to your back as you felt his hot breath on the nape of your neck. The body heat and sweat that radiated off of him seeped into you, reiterating his stark presence. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing?” The movement of his lips now grazing gently along the side of your neck sending chills that formed along your skin. You could tell he was trying his best to get it out of you and hoping to get lucky that it leads to more. He always starts with being gentle and kind until you give the signal that you want him in the worst possible ways. Everyone knew he was kinder to you, but they assumed it was only because he fucked you and he didn’t want to lose his precious toy in such desperate times. Even if it was true, you knew he had a sweet spot for you though he often tried to hide it.

That's how it went with Simon: Build you up, wash you in sweet divine praises, suffocate you with tension till you're needy for him, eventually forcing you to seek release with him as he makes you see heaven. But you hated how he always acted so… dominant. You wanted him needy, him to beg and whimper for you, though you would never say it. He always told you he enjoyed you playing the ‘innocent’ good girl for him, so you devotedly agreed. I mean what would he think? Would he laugh at you for being so little in comparison to him, not even able to possess a fraction of the strength he has, and wanting to…top him? The thought dissipated as he nestled his nose into your neck, his stubbly chin itching along your delicate skin. You shook him off trying to escape his rather sweet advances. He shifted his posture and stood with an offended acknowledgement. 

“The fuck is with you?” He threatens.

“Why do you tease me like that?” You say referring to his taunts earlier that day. You tried bubbling up any self respect you had. “Like–like,” you stutter, “like I'm just so much weaker than you. I am very capable, Simon.” 

His eyes followed you as you gave distance between you two, narrowing in on every word you spoke to him. Your tone sounds harsh and more aggressive. He let you go on, intrigued by your forwardness.

“You treat me like all I am to you is your submissive little doll that just does whatever you say. That you can just tease me and humiliate me for your own sick pleasure.” you protested. His eyes serve a glint of understanding before growing dark again. He knew what you were saying without even having to say it. 

“That's what you're good at,” he mockingly justifies before turning his back to you. The silence of his argument settles into the heavy room, suppressing any ounce of rebuttal.  

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Training seemed harder later that day. Simon refused to even look at you, no more teasing or taunting. Perhaps the little dispute you two had earlier irked him more than you thought. Or maybe he was just being respectful of what you expressed to him: that you no longer wanted him to tease you in such a way that made you feel submissive. 

Your thoughts raced, unfocused on the directions Price was giving out to your team for the drill.

“Ghost. Y/N. You will be our snipers.” You jolted back to the present where you watched Ghosts' empty eyes devour you. Fucking great, we are partnered together. Even though nine times out of ten you were partners, you had hoped this was the one time you weren’t. As everyone splits off into their designated pairings preparing for the training drill, Ghost approaches you.

Your breath hitched as you tried to remain calm. 

“Lucky me huh?” He scoffed. You followed his lead as he continued to walk past letting the snarky comment trail behind him. Ghosts broad back tapered down into his waist, his hips swayed slightly as his barbaric walk guided you to the lookout. 

Conversation lacked while you sat with him, occasionally staring down the scope to see if anything was happening. You felt the urge to say something, to mutter some sort of apology for snapping on him earlier, but he was quick to beat you to it. 

“Where the hell did that come from? Your little outburst earlier?” He asked forwardly. 

“I–I just—” you struggled to be transparent.

“What, you wanna top me or something, sweetheart?” his eyes never breaking away from the field he was surveying, your hands felt itchy from the confrontation. Your face flushing with heat trying your best to not make it obvious. He was so blunt, did he really know you that well?

“Would you let me?” you ask sickeningly innocent. He silently chuckled under his mask, not giving you the satisfaction of seeing his shit eating grin. 

“You can't even tell me you wanna make me your bitch, how could I take you seriously, princess?” he baited. He always called you that when you were under him, taking every inch of him. He worshiped you with that name. A name that solidified your submission to him. 

“If you can't handle it just say that,” you retort back. “I mean, it seems like you're the bitch considering you are afraid to let a little ol’ girl like me top you.” Your eyes now fixed on the field as well, letting whatever floats to your mind out due to irritation. He looks up from his scope and mutters a string of obscenities. 

“You wouldn’t be able to, angel. It's just me being honest. You're only good for taking it….” he leaned his head back down to his scope, “...if you want to top me, then do it.” 

As his words lingered in the air for you to ponder, Soap's voice came over the comms. 

“Taking a quick break LT, we will let you know when we resume.” Ghost relays understanding though his walkie and sits up to lean on a large rock behind him. You mimic him. A few moments of silence passed. 

“Hm,” he chuckled lightly to himself, “surprised I still haven’t been taken advantage of. Must not want it that bad yeah?” He jokes, manspreading and rutting up his hips to adjust into a more comfortable position. You fidget with the knife in your hand out of boredom and a slight distraction from the tension.

“Honestly, it doesn't even make sense–you trying to dominate me.” Anger flushed in your stomach. “You're tiny, you know. You don't hold much weight against me,” before finishing his demeaning thought you swiftly meet your knife to his neck, partly covered by his skull balaclava. His eyes lighting up with passion and intrigue. 

“Shut the fuck up, Riley,” you protest. He didn’t move or utter a word, his seated position staying the same, possibly shocked at your defense, or maybe just wanting to see where it goes. Maybe you did have it in you, it just took a bit of provoking. You made your way on top of him, knife still to his throat, as you did your best to stretch your legs over his wide frame. He sat there, a smirk outlined through his mask, eye contact never breaking. You traced your knife up to his chin, catching the fabric with it, exposing his stubbly neck and jaw. Your free hand resting on his upper thigh, close enough to his crotch to make him squirm. 

“I can make you my bitch no matter what size I am, Simon.” His eyes now inflamed with excitement. The knife to his neck, the vulgar words. You calling him your bitch for a change. You inch the blade up ever so slightly hearing the scratch of his stubble. You could feel his bulge through his pants as you leaned into him more, “I'll make you a good ol’ boy for me.” 

His chest rose and fell deeply, the erection growing in his pants. “Please me good, Riley, and I’ll make you feel the closest to heaven you will ever get.” Hands tracing over your waist he grabs you, hoisting you up to center your hips in front of his face as he remains seated against the rock. Unzipping your pants, your delicate panties show, his gloved fingers moving to massage your clit not yet removing the delicate fabric to reveal your dripping cunt. 

“Lift up your mask, show me your pretty mouth Lieutenant” you demand. He is devotedly obedient to your request. His balaclava rests on the bridge of his nose, his eyes waiting for your next demand. 

“Open.”

You slide your panties off to the side, exposing your dripping essence to him and anyone who could potentially look up and see you. Slowly, you start to grind against his wet tongue, lapping up any bit of excitement that came from you. Soft goans vibrated against you as he became more rough with his mouth, sucking your sensitive clit only to stick his thick tongue back into your core. Lapping circles around your pussy. 

“Don’t stop until I cum. That’s your only purpose, do you understand?” His needy moans expressing his devout service. You inched closer to your climax as you started to grind harder against his face, your puffy clit hitting his nose, offering added pleasure. The sloppy strokes of his tongue became erratic as the knot in your stomach tightened fully, arousal dripping down his jaw and neck. The lewd noises of his moans into you made you weak, causing your high to be intense. Your body shuddered as you came, breath hitching as his hands held you on his mouth, sucking your sweet lips through your climax. As you pulled off of him his eyes were wild with desire, the idea of you forcing him to please you showed through his tented pants. His bulge pulsated, twitching within the fabric that wore a wet stain that pooled next to it. His cock was already leaking, just from eating you out. Did he…cum?

“Fuck,” he exclaimed shakily, hand reaching down to obscure your sight of his premature ejaculation. He really enjoys being submissive huh?

“Did you cum?” you inquired. Nervous laughter escaped his lips. You parted his hand away from his pants getting a better look, eyes darting up to meet his. 

“Oh you naughty, naughty boy. I didn’t say cum while you please me now did I?” Disappointment lacing your tone. “Do you know what disobedient boys get when they dont listen?” The sarcastic tone in your voice alluding to a rhetorical question. You wind your hand up following through to meet Simon's reddened cheek. A loud smack echoing through the air. 

“Punishments.” 

You unzip his pants exposing his thick length, still twitching. Cum dripped down his warm shaft as some of his essence still leaked from his slit. You cooed at him, expressing pity for his lack of self control. 

“Ah~” he moaned weakly, still sensitive, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t–” His pleas were cut off by another ridgid slap. You could see his compliance in his glassy eyes. 

“Look at you, a mess. Pleading for my forgiveness, can't even control yourself when pleasing me. Looks like you get off on being my bitch, huh?” you hissed at him, unrelenting. “Since you want to indulge in pleasure, you're gonna have to beg me to cum. And maybe, if I’m feeling nice, I'll let you.” His chest heaved.

You grabbed his already sensitive cock and teased it, watching him hiss as he accepted his fate. You worked your hands up and down his shaft, feeling it stiffen. You hold out your hand signaling him to spit in it. He obeys. Lewd, wet noises exude from you both as he fingers your pussy through your underwear while you stroke his length quickly. His whimpers and whines encourage you to continue your salacious advances. His whimpers start to elicit needy cries, rutting and bucking his hips more into your hand. His fingers quickly move in and out of your sopping cunt causing his mind to race, drawing swears from his lips. His balls feeling heavier, his incessant whines becoming more convoluted. He was close. 

“Do you wanna come for me?” you insist. “Then let every little whimper and beg fall from your lips Simon. Tell me how bad you want this.” His head shoots back, submissively exclaiming fucked out phrases, seaching for pleas and begs that satisfy you.

“Fuck, please–mmph– please let me cum.” His words dripping with euphoria and depravity. “Let me fucking cum, I’ll be good for you, so good. I’ll be your good fucking boy mommy.” With one firm stroke meeting with his bucking hips he grasps for the dirt around him as thick spurts of cum shoot out of his reddened cock. Ropes of cum spill over your hand, making a mess of his unzipped pants. Making a mess of himself. Convulsing within your tight grip his eyes clamp shut. Tears welling up in the corners, so close to spilling out. His intense climax halts his breathing as he falls from his heightened state. Tip extremely sensitive, swollen from his release. Your hand pauses before gently rubbing your thumb over his slit. He hisses from the touch, followed by a deep sigh. 

“Aw, good boy Simon,” you praise. His vision is still trying to focus. Shock sets in as he realizes his enjoyment of your treatment. 

“Fuck, princess,” He teases, trying to regain some form of control. You shoot him a playfully annoyed look. 

The comms come on as his walkie sits in the dirt inches away from the two of you. Soaps' voice echos over the call, “Are we ready to continue?,” a slight pause of dead air, “By the way, never thought I’d hear the day LT begged like that.” 

Ghost pulled his balaclava over his embarrassed expression and grabbed the walkie. 

“The only begging you’ll have to worry about is begging me not to kill you after all this is over.”

[tojisun]

hhh thinkin about choking simon while you’re riding him. his eyes are blown wide open, his face flushed with oversensitivity. he bucks his hips up every time you bounce, his moans slipping past his gritted teeth like a murmured grunt.

“fuck, baby,” you keen, your voice a hissed lilt. “so thick ‘round me.”

“shit,” simon rasps, going cross-eyed at how good everything feels—the warm press of your walls around him, your hand tight around his neck. it’s not that your grip is even strong, but the constant pressure of your hold grounds him; it fills him up with razing euphoria.

he adores having you this way, all dominant and in control of him; all snarled grin and teasing mewls. he’s putty in your hand, all for you to use, and simon is dizzy at the thought of it.

you giggle, tapping at his lips. “open wide, baby.”

simon breathes in sharply, his nose flaring in his excitement. he follows your command with obedience, his tongue lolling out slightly because he knows what will come next.

you lean forward just enough that your nose brushes against him before spitting in his mouth, and simon groans, throbbing with desire.

you watch him swallow it down with a fevered smile, your cheeks round in your own drunken happiness.

“good boy,” you trill, leaving open-mouth kisses along his jaw.

[gothghostiie]

okok listen - telling the 141 "use your words"

cw: brat!reader, dom!reader, no actual smut, manhandling, begging, brat!soap, sub!ghost, gn!reader

price doesn't like being fucked around with; if he's feeling you up on a stressful day, just wanting to release some tension, and you stop him with a hand to his chest, telling him to use his words? you probably have a death wish. before you can even react he's got your cheeks in a tight grip, glaring down at you while your nose almost touches his. "wanna repeat that, lovie?" he asks lowly, sarcastically. you both know if you give him another bratty answer you're in for it.

Soap's eyes widen when you tell him to use his words while he's trying to get into your pants. goes all red and tense, you already start to think you overstepped something here and want to apologise; before his face shifts to a look of submission and a bit of defiance. he tries to get his hands under your shirt again without saying a word, wanting to resist you and your - what was supposed to be a joke - order, wanting to test you. I'd be lying if I said he didn't love how rough you suddenly get with him.

Gaz and you are mutually fooling around, he's sucking on your neck and kissing down when you tell him to use his words - he just stops for a brief moment before grinning up at you. "want me to use my words baby? tell you all the things I wanna do with you?" he says in a teasing tone, pushing his tongue into your mouth for a sloppy kiss before trailing kisses to your ear and whispering all the nasty, dirty things he wants to do with you right now, his tone low with occasional chuckles at how you're suddenly putty in his hands.

ghost might be my fav - he's snuggled up to you, hand pushing into your sweatpants when you grab his wrist to stop him, telling him to use his words. he freezes, staring up at you through blond lashes and with pink cheeks; you can practically see the internal struggle he's in. he's torn between wanting to appear big and strong, and just giving in. it's not a long struggle, especially when you run a hand through his messy hair, face burying in your neck as soft begging falls from his lips, trembling hands holding onto you tightly as if you might push him off if he doesnt.