#call of duty ghosts x reader

[writingwarden]

hii! i saw your recent story about logan walker and am like on a logan rampage rn lol, do you think you can write something where reader is captured with logan (they are in a relationship) and basically while they are in there reader is in worse condition than him and he protects her the whole time, and they eventually get rescued together? Love your writing and if this isnt possible thats totally fine no worries

I am also on a Logan Rampage, he's so underrated! Well, you know what they say, "If you want something done you got to do it yourself!"

Logan Walker x Reader

Tw- Near death experience, torture, canon typical violence, Drugging, Angst, Coming to terms with one's own mortality, previously established relationship, slightly inaccurate medical knowledge.

Word Count- 2k

Summary- It would take a miracle to get out of this alive.

[Call Sign- Weaver]

The cell door slides open, the horrible screeching of the hinges warning you of the pain and ridicule to come. You stayed curled up on the cold concrete floor as Rorke’s boots appeared in your blurred vision. 

How long have you been in this cell? How long had it been since he dragged you and Logan from that beach? You had lost count after the first week, too focused on not letting the man break you. 

Rough hands grab under your shoulders, you knew what was about to happen and if you had the energy you would have cried. Frustration clipped at the edges of the deep bone tiredness you felt now. Day after day Rorke tortured you and Logan, trying to break you until you were nothing. Both of you had fought in the beginning, not willing to go down without a fight. But Rorke is very good at what he does. He tried to use you two against each other once he found out you were together. Beating on one of you while the other was being held back, helpless to do anything. Drugging you with hallucinogens and leaving you writhing on the ground trapped in your mind. 

A calloused hand gripped harshly under your chin, forcing you to look at the monster standing in front of you. Rorke tilted your head back and forth, a mocking sneer as he let go of your face. “Not dead yet?” he asks in an almost giddy tone. Like this was the funniest thing he has ever seen. 

The deep red scratch marks across his face and down his throat had scabbed over since the last time he had taunted Logan with you as the bait. Rorke had been stupid enough to believe Logan had no strength left and didn’t bother tying him down to the chair as the “Ghost Killer” burned the hot end of a cigar into your skin.

The searing heat of the cigar had you weakly flinching as Rorke pressed it into your skin. “You know,” the man started, gesturing at Logan who sat slumped in a chair across from you, “These are nice cigars. You want one?” He offers the cigar to Logan. Your lover gives no reaction to Rorke’s offer, instead staring straight ahead at you. His gaze was unyielding but not all there. 

Rorke laughs, turning back to face you. “How rude.” He slams the cigar into your collarbone, causing you to jerk violently in your chair, a pained high pitched whine from your throat. That sound was a trigger, Logan launching himself from his chair and slamming his weight onto Rorke, wrapping his hands around the man's throat. 

It didn’t take much for Rorke to push Logan off of him, but not before Logan dragged his hand down Rorke’s cheek and throat. Angry red lines forming as blood blooms out of them.

The lack of answer from you doesn’t seem to bother him as he nods at the guards holding you upright. They start walking, dragging your body along with them down the hall. You know where they are taking you, having memorized every step of this walk to the other end of the cell block. To the one that Logan was being held in. Barely conscious as the door opens and you’re tossed forward onto the ground like a doll discarded by a child throwing a tantrum. 

Letting out a pained groan as your body collides with the ground, the bleeding wounds on your abdomen catching fire with the movement. Infection was surely in your veins. The door slams shut with a loud bang and the sound of keys jingling as the door is locked. Rorke chuckles, “It’s only fair you get to watch her die. Enjoy the last moments together, lovebirds.” Then his footsteps are walking away.

There is more movement in the cell, then Logan’s hands are on you, pulling you weakly against his own body. With a solid thud Logan falls back against the wall with you now laying half in his lap. His breaths are short and rapid. Slowly he brings his hand up to your head, cradling you like a lifeline. 

Rorke was right. You didn’t have much time left and your body knew. It would take a miracle for you to survive this. Against everything you had been taught or had thought, all hope of a rescue had been squished. A small part in your broken body pangs with dull pain at the thought. You had held out hope that the Ghosts would rescue you from this cold hell. But who were you fooling? The last sight you had seen before waking up here had been Hesh, lying against a rock. His blood spilling onto the sand as you and Logan were dragged away.

The Federation now in shambles would leave your teammates with bigger problems. So now you were dying but at least Logan was here. It is cruel but you wouldn’t mind if he was the last thing you saw in this life.

Death was a concept you had come to terms with nearly ten years prior. Life had been ripped out from under your feet. You knew even then as you enlisted that you would die on the killing field. And that had been perfectly fine in your eyes, your life would have meaning in this apocalyptic war. The prospect of your own demise was simply a fact in your mind. That was until Logan had literally fallen into your life. 

The small cliff provided minimum shelter from the unforgiving rays of the sun. Pulling a cigarette from its pack you sigh. Outside the wall patrol was almost always boring. Sometimes broken up by the occasional person/s seeking shelter inside the wall or scavengers. As you looked down to light the cigarette in your hand a loud thump and startled cry from a man falling off the cliff you sat under. Your gun in your hands and pointed upright in a second. Recognition of the same uniform you wore is what had you lowering the gun slightly.

The man looked up at you, he was young and looked embarrassed. As you were going to ask if he was alright a dog's bark comes from above you. Said dog jumps down next to the man and sniffs at him before turning, a low growl from the creature. 

You watch the dog as you ask if he was alright. The man sits up, the patch on the front of his armor read “Walker”. You recognized the name right away. This must be one of Elias Walker’s boys. 

“Logan!” Another man’s voice rings out. You lower your gun and step forward, extending your hand to help Logan up onto his feet. His grip is solid against your own as he stands up. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to fall over you let go and turned your head to call out “He’s down here.”

Another man appears on the cliff but this one wastes no time jumping down. This one was taller than Logan but sported the same last name. This one must be “Hesh” the eldest Walker brother. He still had on a beanie despite the heat. 

You watch as Hesh checks on Logan, fussing around with his armor. Logan smacked Hesh’s arm and started moving his hands. Sign Language? Hesh finally looks at you and a wide grin forms on his face. He steps forward and laughs, “Sorry about that. I’m Hesh and that clumsy one is Logan.”

You look at them, amused, “Weaver.” 

It had been history after that and somehow you wound up falling for the youngest Walker brother. You both clicked and your knowledge of basic sign language had made him more inclined to talk to you. And when Elias felt the need to bring his sons onto the team of Ghosts, he dragged you along. Maybe you would see him when you crossed into the afterlife. 

Logan’s head rested on the top of yours. His heartbeat lulls you into a calmer state. Everything in you screamed to stay awake but your eyelids felt like they were made of stone.

The loud pops of a gun being fired jerk you from your hazed state. Looking up just in time to see the guards outside the cell door collapse like ragdolls. Blood splattered on the wall and ground next to them. Logan curls around you, blocking your body with his. 

A few more shots fire and then there's the sound of boots hitting the ground running. “Logan! Weaver!” The names make both of you go rigid. Turning your head to look at the door reveals the tall frame of Hesh.

His eyes are frantic as he takes in the sight of you two. The sound of keys and the door being unlocked. The door slams open as Hesh barrels into the cell. Hurriedly he reaches up and calls into his radio, “I’ve got them, B block!” Hesh shoulders his rifle and reaches out, his hand cradling Logan's face. Logan looks like he’s in shock but he finds the strength to shove you into Hesh. 

Another pair of footsteps come bounding down the hallway as Hesh hurriedly looks for the source of your blood, which is seeping into his clothes. They stop in front of the cell, a flurry of curses only Keegan was capable of spoken into the air. Keegan looms over you and the Walker brothers. 

It is then that you are gently taken out of Hesh’s hold, now held against Keegan’s chest. In the corner of your eye Hesh is pulling Logan onto his back and standing. Keegan’s arms are steady as he carries you out of the cell. Logan is slumped over unconscious on Hesh’s back as he walks in front of you, pistol drawn. 

The hike through the compound and to the evac is not easy. Federation stragglers ran everywhere. Several times despite your body’s protests, does Keegan have to sit you down to return fire. Despite the torment that is being moved and jostled around you manage to stay awake until the team reaches the trucks. Haphazardly being placed in the backseat of a truck, it is there that sleep finds you. The rock of the trucks through rough terrain is enough to lull you into a merciful unconsciousness.

The steady beeping of the vitals monitor draws you from your sleep. A week of medically induced comas, surgeries, and constant monitoring had flown by. The infection is well on its way out of your system. Well, on its way out of both of your systems. Logan hadn’t been much better than you but he was lucky (unlucky?) enough to not have needed to be put into sleep. 

His own hospital bed sat only a foot away from yours on the left. His face was a picture of calm as he slept. It was late but sleep evades you. Skin still feels raw from the antibacterial soaps they used to keep the outer infections at bay. 

The window across from you had its curtains drawn back. A steady rain that should have been comforting droning on against the glass. Instead the storm only served as a baying hound, the noise loud. Thunder and the occasional lightning to keep you company.

You both had plenty of visitors as soon as the doctors had deemed you stable enough to have them. Hesh was the first, later Keegan and Merrick would tell you that he had been waiting outside the door for the all clear. Then it was your old squad and eventually your civilian friends. But it was after hours now, Hesh having gone because he had been assigned the night watch.

Looking back over at Logan you feel your heart ache. You want nothing more than to crawl next to him, to feel his warmth. But you can’t, the copious amount of IV’s and monitors stuck to the both of you prevented much. Settling for reaching across the gap and resting your hand over his.

So you sit and you watch the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Things would get better. Rorke is now dead for good thanks to Hesh’s bullets. The federation is scrambled in the mud. 

Things will be alright.

[Hope you enjoyed! Find the rest of my call of duty works HERE! Let me know what you think!]

[mrshesh]

mrs. hesh's matchups

IMPORTANT! read this whole page before requesting a matchup! if you don't, that's on you.

matchup status: closed

x what are matchups?

matchups are basically who i ship you with based on your personality, hobbies, and (optional) appearance - your description!

x what do i need to include in my description?

you'll need to include:

the gender(s) you're attracted to

your pronouns (for writing purposes)

your age group

your personality

your mbti

your hobbies

including your appearance is optional!

x how do i send in a matchup request?

you send your description to my inbox! however, keep in mind, i'll only have 10 slots available per batch - it's a first come first serve situation.

if you're looking to send in a matchup request but find that they're closed or all the slots are taken, you can privately send me a message, or if you want to remain anonymous, ask me in my inbox about the next batch.

x what fandoms do you write matchups for?

modern warfare (og & reboot)

call of duty: ghosts

mortal kombat

uncharted 4

you can ask for multiple fandoms in one matchup!

IMPORTANT! if you want a more specific matchup, you have to communicate that. as opposed to just saying "ship me with a modern warfare character" you'll have to say "ship me with a reboot modern warfare boy whos' in the 141" if that's what you're looking for. i cannot read your mind, you have to communicate your wants.

x what will the matchup include?

the matchup will include:

an explanation as to why i ship you with that character.

2-3 headcanons of you and that character.

your & this character's song!

x one of my questions is unanswered!

no problem at all! message me privately, or send your question through my inbox.

matchup list!

here, you can find all my matchups. if you think you've missed yours, or if you simply wanna read it again, you will find it here. you can also get a better idea of the structure of my matchups by taking a look at them!

nothing here yet, soldier.

[macravishedbymactavish]

Checkmate (David "Hesh" Walker x GN! Reader)

TW: Traumatized Hesh, mentions of Canon Ghosts ending. Maybe if the mood strikes I'll make this a series. It's been sitting in my drafts forever.

| Blog HQ |

"I only run when being chased" he replied smoothly, giving you a boyish smirk. Face slowly falling when your expression didn't change. Remaining serious.

"Then who's chasing you?" You asked in a soft tone, watching as the gears behind his eyes started to move. Trying desperately to brush this off with humor, but realizing:

Shit, you have a point.

"Right now, you and the staring" he chuckled dryly. Eyes looking everywhere but at you. The question made him uncomfortable, nervous, vulnerable.

"You play a lot of things off as jokes. Like nothing truly bothers you -- I don't think that's true though. You don't either" you reached forward, grabbing your drink to take a sip. "It's safe here. You can open up"

"If I open up anymore, I'll break my spine" you resisted rolling your eyes at the metaphor. "I'm an open book. Ask me anything" he challenged.

"What happened on the train?" May as well aim for the throat. "Why did you decide on the checkmate plan?" You watched as he clenched his jaw momentarily. Letting a long breath out through his nose, finally looking you in the eye before he spoke. Eyes begging for understanding.

Understanding that he tried. He's trying.

"You know exactly why. Everyone knows why. It's what had to be done. Ask Merrick, he'll agree" The walls were slowly being built back up, he was closing off again.

"What would have happened if you didn't?" This session felt like a chess match. Except he was the only one playing. Planning every move 5 steps before he needed to make it, planning how to retreat, to attack, to divert attention. Right now, he was using his silence as a defense. Waiting for you to continue before confirming his next move.

"David.." You sighed, leaning forward. "This isn't an interrogation, if it was they wouldn't have sent me. Your dad, brother, friends all want you to be okay. That's why I'm here. But I need more information before I can do much".

His eyes pleaded for you to understand he was trying.

Your eyes pleading for him to see you were doing the same.

"It's selfish. If I let him go, he would've kept hunting us. If I let him go, dad would never be avenged. Rorke would have never paid for what he did if I didn't make the call!" He slammed his hands on the table between you two. Expression immediately filling with remorse.

You watched as his face became an open window for the internal debate he was waging. Trying to differentiate what was reality and what wasn't. His mind and surroundings providing different feedback.

"I made the hard call to avenge my family. I know I fucked up and I have to live with that daily. My dad's dead, my brother is gone. I have nobody left." His voice broke as he leaned back, hands shaking as he fell deeper into that rabbit hole.

"Hesh, look at me" you requested, watching as his eyes cast down toward you. Posture still leaned back into his chair. Knowing he was now looking at his friend, not the psych personnel. "You're safe here. You're safe with me".

They're not gone. You saw them yesterday. You desperately wanted to affirm; but you knew that would be overstepping boundaries. Not that accepting your friends case wasn't overstepping. Your neck was on every line, every chopping block, under more risk for scrutiny because of this. Your heart ached day after day working on this; but how do you say no when

A) Resources and personnel are limited

B) Said friends father all but begged you to take this.

"There's a side of him that seems to be reserved for when you're around. He knows you, he trusts you. I'm not sure if I'd trust anyone else with this." Elias explained, sitting across the desk from you. The clinical piece of your mind wondered how much sleep he's gotten since that day. The personal piece knowing next to none, and it's rude to ask.

"You know there's policies, rules and ethics against this." Your heart broke saying the words "I can refer you to a colleague here who'd do fantastic on the case. I'm happy to overlook from an arms length away, but I really shouldn't be the one taking on his case"

"I understand that, but please. If anyone can get him out on the other side. It's going to be you."

How do you say no to that? You've known the Walkers for majority of your adult life. You've grown close to the trio. And if nothing else, Hesh did save your ass. You owe him at least this.

"Thank you" Hesh whispered, reaching his hand out to lay it atop of yours. Holding back a soft sigh, you decided enough was enough for today.

"Anytime. If it's not asking too much, can I give you some homework? Something to occupy your mind while you're cooped up in here" you vaugley gestured to the area around you. An office within a ward. You gave a small smile when he agreed, pulling an old, blank notebook from your bag.

"They won't let you have pens or anything in your room" you cursed yourself for the oversight, making a mental note to speak with the staff later. "When you can though, write out exactly what happened? Even point form. Help give me a full understanding of what happened, why it happened" you explained, handing the book over to him.

--

"How'd it go?" Logan jogged up behind you in the hall later that day, hope radiating off him in waves. It crushed him when he was advised against visiting his brother, especially right now.

"Confidentiality, Lo" you teased lightly "but we have a long way to go. We all knew that" you shrugged.

Hopefully this path leads to some resolution, clarity and forgiveness.

"Is the reason I can't go visit him confidential too?" Coming from anyone else - you may have found offense in the statement. A bite of sarcasm and resentment. Not with Logan - his intentions were clear:

He just wanted his brother back.

"Until we fully figure out what's going on in his head, and how to make positive progress we can't let you guys see him. He's still adamant that you're dead." You gave the youngest Walker a sympathetic look; knowing how close the two were before all this. He nodded, as much as he hated it he also understood.

"My arm is healing pretty well. All things considering" he smiled, pushing the sling off his body to show you. "Doc said I should be able to lose this thing in the next week or so"

You fell into easy conversation with Logan, both of you pretending like your hearts weren't chipping bit by bit. Listening to him give you updates on his broken arm, the movie he convinced Keegan to watch the other night. You told him about the latest recipe you tried for supper, and what you were planning for your coworkers birthday.

Anything to avoid what you both really wanted to talk about.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco @ai-luni

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI Simon fucking you in a headlock

You've been obsessed with his arms since day one.

And you finally asked him to do what you wanted for a while.

He made sure that you were comfortable, asking multiple times if you were ok.

And you breathed out 'yes' eagerly each time.

And now here you are as he fucks into your sopping pussy while having you in a headlock, thick veiny arm wrapped around your neck.

The burly mass of muscles puts enough pressure to make you dizzy, increasing the already intense pleasure of his fat cock splitting your weeping cunt open.

His other hand reaches around your body and lands on your sensitive puffy clit, rough fingers circling and pinching it while his wide hips slap against your rear with each ferocious plunge into you.

"You gonna be a good girl and cum f'me?" he grunts into your ear as he feels the ever increasing pressure of your pulsating pussy on his cock.

And you can only hum in response, the razing pleasure too much to bear, too much to let you form any coherent words.

You hold on to his strong arm wrapped around you, nails digging into his bicep and forearm, surely leaving crescent marks on his skin.

The delightful mix of sweet sensations, the aching drag of his thick cock along your sensitive walls repeatedly with the dizzying pleasure of his arm around your neck,

while his swollen red tip viciously attacks your gummy cervix and his calloused fingertips rub against your puffy clit send you to a state of pure engulfing euphoria.

And streams of your juices and cream gush out of you as you let out hiccupped moans, blended with his low growl of sheer pleasure as he fills up your welcoming womb with his seed.

[simonrileysfavteacup]

You stir awake, sighing as you roll over to face your sleeping husband. You sit up, fixing your stretchy shirt over your very swollen belly. You pat Simon’s side. “Si? Si! Si!”

He groans as he wakes up, rolling over and shoving his head into his pillow. “Go back t’ sleep.”

“I want a big mac.”

He groans louder. 

“Please, Si? I’m super hungry. And bubby keeps kicking.”

He sighs, “Look ‘t the time, lovie.”

You almost tear up. 

When he notices the frown on your face, he sighs again, getting up. “Which one is the closest?”

You smile, almost jumping with joy as you lean up to press a million kisses to his cheek. “The one on 42nd.”

He leans down, kissing your belly and your lips before heading off to get dressed. 

He returns 20 minutes later, a bag and 2 drinks in hand. You practically moan at the smell as he hands you the bag. 

“I love you,” you moan as you take a bite of your burger. He chuckles, eating his own. “Bubby loves you too. He’s kicking every time I take a bite.”

“Bet ‘e does.” Simon kisses your belly as you stuff a few fries in your mouth. “Lovie?”

“Yeah?” you ask with a mouth full. 

“Do ya think he’ll like me?”

“For the millionth time, my love, you are nothing like your father. You’re far too kind and too amazing and too sweet. He’s going to love you. Just like I do.”

He chuckles, “Love you too.”

He leans down, kissing your belly. 

“Both of ya annoying little buggers. Always fuckin’ hungry.”

[ghostly-whiskey]

simon riley who you "meet" through a program where you can send care packages to soldiers. you don't think much of it at first, just a simple package with a few necessities and treats. and along with that, a short, but genuine and handwritten letter thanking the unknown soldier to you for their service.

and when you go to retrieve your mail a few weeks later after getting home from work, brows furrowing together as you shuffle through the stack of envelopes.

bill. another bill. advertisement. paycheck. handwritten addressed envelope from 'ghost'.

your brain doesn't even connect the dots until you are inside, fingers gently picking at the envelope until your able to drag a finger through the seal to open it. a simple piece of what looks like notebook paper is pulled from inside. unfolding it, eyes quickly scan the letter to get an idea what it's about.

you've done plenty of care packages before. never did you get a personalized thank you letter back, so, this was a first. the letter starting off by thank you for the package and that he enjoyed the items, especially the "sweet treats". the two words put in quotations as he referred to what you referred to them as in your own letter. your own brain cringing slightly as you remember what you wrote.

again, thank you for all that you do and enjoy the sweet treats!

and while you expected the letter to end after thanking you, it didn't. additional lines asking about you. the sets of questions ranging from asking how long have you been doing the care packages to general questions about yourself. then, at the very end, after signing off as 'ghost', you couldn't help but notice the chicken scratch of handwriting that added:

p.s. you don't need to respond back if you don't want to, just figured it be nice to get something back in return. thanks again.

[tacticalprincess]

simon and könig being unable to stop bickering for a second, even when they’re balls deep inside of you. they’ve got you in an Eiffel Tower, könig’s cock filling your glossy pussy while simon stuffs your mouth. it took ages of convincing for them to even consider this position, but eventually they decided to put their discrepancies aside for the sake of you, their precious, spoiled little thing. it didn’t last very long though…

“jackhammer much, mate? you’ve got her choking on me over here.” simon points out, his heavy hand stroking your hair soothingly. könig’s using your hips as leverage, bucking into you at a rabid pace, each of his thrusts lurching your body forward and forcing you to take more of simon’s dick down your poor throat. “what happened to treatin’ the princess with care?”

“it’s okay, she likes it. isn’t that right, maus?”

your cheeks warm up as you hum around simon’s dick noncommittally. nothing gets passed the l.t though, and suddenly he’s gripping you by your hair, pulling your mouth off his cock.

“wait, you let him fuck your face?” he asks, sounding genuinely offended.

you wipe the line of spit that trails from your swollen lips all the way to his still hard dick, hovering just out of reach. you huff. “he’s more sadistic than you…” you say sheepishly in response, voice staccato from könig’s thrusts.

“you tellin’ me i’m the soft sex guy? the aftercare fuck?”

“‘s alright, mate.” könig reaches over your naked body to pat his comrade on the shoulder. “youve got boyfriend dick. happens to the best of us.”

[deunmiu-dessie]

pillow princess!reader who decides that they want to try being on top for once and anchors their small hands on ghost's chest, bouncing sloppily on his cock and whimpering at his praise. “that’s it. good girl, just like that.” pillow princess!reader who pants in small, short puffs, cheeks flushing red and legs cramping. pillow princess!reader whose movements start to get slower just when they're on the brink of cumming. “ i c-can't, m’tired, si.” bf!simon who rumbles deep in his chest at your whiney complaint, "ah, fuckin' hell." bf!simon who grabs the fat of your hips and fucks up into you, hard and fast, gravelly voice mocking. "look at you, can't even fuckin' ride me properly." bf!simon who simpers at your scrunched up face and bleary eyes, mouth open to let out pitiful sobs. "m' sorry, d-daddy--mmn!" he chuckles softly, "'s alright, pet. " ˙ᵕ˙

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ - 𝒸𝓁𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓂𝑒! ⁽ nsfw ⁾

[emoelvin]

[bigguyenthusiast]

COD P★ LINKS

Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning

John price

Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(

Overstimulation with John <3

Price eating you out after a loooooong mission

More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)

Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?

John getting you to ride his thigh

Theres a reason why they’re his favourite

Kyle Garrick

Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3

What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(

Lazy night in with gaz

Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you

Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend

Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining

Simon Riley

Just a quick reminder of where you belong

Quick polishing’

A goodbye gift

A welcome home gift

Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(

Owner! Ghost with his lil pup

Little film for later

Gettin’ crafty

John McTavish

Riding him until he’s dumb <3

Mornin sex with Johnny boy

Self restrain

Virgin! Johnny

Just his doll

Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣

König

Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation

Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?

Just a quickie before he leaves for work

Quickie part 2

Good girls beg

[writingwarden]

can i request some keegan x fem!reader where she gets herself hurt trying to protect him and keegan gets all overprotective and worried over her 🙏🙏

[A/N]- Hi yeah sorry this took so long! Writers block is hitting me hard lmao. Sorry if formatting is weird, posting from mobile!

Keegan x Fem!Reader

TW- Minor character death, being shot, blood, Canon typical violence

Word Count- 1.6k

Callsign- RED

The forest is alive around you as you lay prone, looking through the binoculars onto the Federation camp. Around fifty federation soldiers mill around the camp, unsuspecting of the threats in the cliffs above where your team layed. Watching; waiting for the signal to descend onto the crowd.

Keegan shuffles from where he sat crouched next to you, “Well, Red?” He questions.

You don't look away when you answer, “Next patrol should be passing in the next five minutes.”

You, Keegan, and a few selected soldiers were there to scout the guard rotations and then enter the camp, shoot any federation, and retrieve data from the commander's tent. In and out. Keegan was there to ensure the mission was completed and watch your back.

If you didn't know better, Elias had shot you a wink when he announced the mission. He always paired you two together on missions, something about both being sneaky. Nevermind the fact you and Keegan had been secretly dating for months now.

Handing the binoculars over to Keegan, you crawl backwards, waiting till you were concealed by the bushes to stand up on your knees. Looking around at the soldiers around you, nodding at them.

A whistle sounds from where you just were, it's time.

Climbing back to the edge of the cliff where you had perched, you ready your rifle. It would start after everyone got into position. A voice crackles through the comms in your ear, “Kick this off, Red.”

Taking a deep breath as you aim, the recoil causes the gun to bump back into your shoulder as the first guard falls. The others don't have time to react as the rest of the team moves in. Body by body, the Federation soldiers fall, the team spreading out like discussed.

Using your scope you follow each teammate until you can no longer see any one of them. It was your turn to enter the fray. Slinging the rifle over your shoulder, you begin the slide down the cliff side. The landing shocks your knees enough to pop them but you keep moving.

It was up to you now to reach the main tent where Keegan would be waiting with the Federation Commander in custody. Bringing a hand up to your radio, you announce your entry into the camp to the rest of the team. Holding your rifle up as you reach the edge of the camp. Ready to fire on any enemy that crosses your path.

Gunfire rings out in the distance as the Federation soldiers try to fight back, the echoes of the others ringing through the channel as they push further into the camp.

Moving from crate to crate, dispatching any poor souls you come across. The latest one falling out of the tent they attempted to shoot you from.

Rounding a stack of crates, the sight in front of you makes your blood turn cold. Keegan held at gunpoint by the commander you were sent to eliminate, another soldier standing behind him, gun trained on him. Shit!

Aiming quickly, the soldier drops with a single bullet through his throat. Turning to the commander you were too slow, his barrel already pointed at you. The small and bright burst of a bullet exiting the weapon in your direction.

The world pauses, ears ringing as heat spreads through your stomach. Surroundings in slow motion as Keegan begins to scream and lunges at the commander. Looking down at your body, the blood spreads across the fabric of your shirt, your hand covered in your own blood. Ringing in your ears as you stumble to your knees, desperately but poorly attempting to aim your gun at the enemy.

Through unfocused eyes you see Keegan snap the guard's neck and tackle the commander, retching the gun from his hand and firing, the body landing with a solid thunk against the muddy ground, hole blasted through the skull.

There were unfamiliar voices shouting, getting closer, the gun falling from your hand onto the ground next to you.

Keegan whips his head around to face you, taking in the sight that you are. It was almost cartoonish the way he scrambles over to your kneeling form. His hands are on you, lifting you shakily, just enough to prop you halfway up against the crate a few feet behind you.

“Shit, Red!” Keegan yells, panic lacing his words as he crouches over you pressing his hands to the wound, trying to keep the blood in. The heat turns into hellfire as you lay writhing against the crate, his touch causing shooting streaks of electricity to shoot through your heart.

Weakly you try and push his hands away, but instead he takes them under his own and uses them to put pressure on the wound. It's then that one of his hands leaves, reaching up to his radio. The words that fall from his lips are muffled by the ringing and blood rushing through your ears. You can make out the vague demand that the others regroup at the main tent, the one you lay outside of.

You can feel your body slipping further down. When did it get so cold out? Keegan notices your rapidly slipping consciousness and places a hand under your chin, shaking your head. It jostles your eyes open enough to watch a federation soldier round the corner behind Keegan.

“Behind-” your voice comes out in a harsh rasp. Painful coughs follow the word like a punishment.

Keegan grabs the pistol holstered on your side, turns around and fires rapid shots. Another body falls.

Everything in your mind screamed at you to stay awake, or maybe that was Keegan desperately trying to keep you lucid. A fretting look over his features, eyes were frantic, mask moving around like he was talking.

Sleep had never sounded like such a good idea until now. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to rest your eyes for a minute? Eyelids fluttering shut, the last sight you saw was the hand of your teammates gripping Keegan’s shoulder. The last thing you felt before the dark welcomed you was being lifted off the muddy ground.

…

The smell of hospital antiseptic sharply fills your nose, the bright white lighting causing you to scrunch your eyes close again. The beeping of various vital monitors mix with the soft snores coming from your left. Turning your head towards the sound and opening your eyes, your breathing stutters at the sight in front of you.

Keegan sat in the chair next to the bed, head leaning against his shoulder as he slept. His arms crossed over his chest, breathing shallow. The watch on his wrist read 9:23, how long had you been out? Your eyes roam over his sleeping face, taking in the dark crescents under his eyes. He looked worse for wear, but you suppose that comes with the job.

Lifting the thin hospital blanket reveals bandages wrapped around your abdomen. The area around the gunshot wound is completely numb, not that you're complaining. They probably had you on all sorts of fun painkillers.

Setting the blanket back down and looking at the bedside table, you see a water bottle. Shakily you reach for it but your hand barely grazes it, causing it to fall over and roll off the surface. It lands on the floor with a dull thud as a frustrated noise leaves your throat.

This causes the man next to you to stir, blue eyes slowly flickering open. Those beautiful blue eyes widen in surprise at your awake state. Sheepishly you smile and point to the fallen object.

“Clumsy.” He says as he bends down to pick the water bottle off the floor. You expected him to just hand it back to you but instead he twists the cap off and holds it up in front of your face.

Wordlessly you let him help you drink. When you had enough he moves the bottle back to the table, this time within your reach.

“So,” you begin, ignoring the horrible way your voice cracks, “How long was I out?”

He looks down at his watch then back to you, “You got out of surgery around five hours ago, so twelve hours. Honestly surprised you woke up this early.”

Twelve hours? A myriad of questions fly through your thoughts but you settle on the first one. “Did you get the Intel we needed?” Business was always first to you no matter the situation.

An amused look crosses his face at your question. “Yeah, I got it before he caught me. Everyone else is fine, minor injuries but they'll live. You on the other hand?” He runs a hand through his hair, “You were touch and go for a while. It's honestly a damn miracle that the bullet only managed to graze your stomach.”

He rolls his eyes before looking down at your body, “Are you comfortable? I can go get the nurse. Are you cold?” He begins to stand.

Grabbing his hand prevents him from leaving. He slides back into the chair as you bring his hand up to your face, kissing each knuckle. Worry is replaced with softness and a sigh.

You nod your head as a small silence fills the air between you two.

“You didn't need to do that.”

You frown and shoot a questioning look at him.

“Thanks anyway. But if you get hurt again I'll throttle you.” He had a serious look, brows furrowed. He stretches his arms above his head before continuing, “Love, if you would have died I would have never forgiven you, probably would've dragged you back to the land of the living myself just to smack you.”

Before you could retort he leans over you and places a quick kiss on your lips. Any protests you had died on your tongue, a grin replacing the frown as he pulled away. “No promises.”

[A/N]- edit to fix tags

[bitten-fruit]

Simon forgets how strong he is

18+ MDNI - cw: bruising - ~700 words

just some Simon Riley NSFW brainrot ♥︎ - part 2-ish, and part 3-ish here!!

Simon forgets how to be gentle.

When he's at war, fighting and shooting and killing day and night, all he knows is hardness. Brutality. Ruthlessness. His hands and heart grow calloused and rough in his months away from you. Using his unfathomable strength to survive is what he grows used to, it becomes second nature.

But it's your softness he remembers, to keep himself sane. It's all he thinks about. Dreams of.

The way the flesh of your hips, your ass, your breasts, your belly, pillows so deliciously between his fingers when he squeezes his handful - so warm, so supple. The way your vanilla-balmed lips graze his scarred skin so tenderly, however undeserved your sweetness is.

And when he finally returns home, after months of missing, craving you - when you stand in the door, honey thighs bare by virtue of the black panties you wore just to torture him, soft tummy peeking out from under your crop-top - he just can't restrain himself.

You greet him with your sugary smile, stretching up on your toes to curl your loving arms around his neck - your gentle voice, music; "Si, ah! I'm so glad you're okay…"

The moment your velvet skin touches his, his shackles crumble. Like a beast starved, he clutches you. Mammoth arms curl around you, constricting, gripping you eagerly like you might be a dream; liable to turn to a memory, to smoke.

His avaricious embrace lifts your feet from the ground, though he doesn't mean to - he burrows his nose and mouth into the crook of your neck, lets the curls of your hair smother him and fill his chest with the faint scent of your fruity shampoo. Fights every urge to take a bite, like you're a ripe nectarine.

Growls into your skin, through his jaw; "I fuckin' missed you, love. Christ, you have no idea how much I missed you."

"I missed you too, baby…" you coo into his ear, even your breathing is tender - he can't take it.

So he ferries you immediately to the sitting room, scoops you up like you weigh nothing, lets you coil your buttery thighs around his waist as he sits you on his lap on the sofa.

His wide hands take their greedy handfuls of your body - of your waist, of your hips, of your thighs, of your ass. Finally indulging the impulses he had dreamed about for so long - the very image he had fucked his fist to more times than he could count while parted from you.

With his teeth on your shoulder, tongue laving your warm skin; "So fuckin' soft," he grumbles deeply, and urges, "pretty thing. So soft. Fuck, I missed you."

His cock is hasty to grow boulder-solid under his trousers, and he chastises himself - but you answer with a cloying giggle, grinding your mound against its rigidity as if to torment him.

"Mm, you did miss me," you tease, little brat.

Then in an instant, all he can think about is the softness of your syrupy pussy, the gumminess of the inside of your cunt as its walls caress and milk his cock like it was built just to fit him.

You make him fucking ravenous, so voraciously eager to have you that he doesn't even notice his hands turn to vices around your flesh - fingers burrowing so deeply into the cheek of your ass that he might break through the skin.

"Ah!" You yelp, "Ow - Simon - you're hurting me-"

Your squeak of pain is enough to immediately shatter him - so he rapidly lifts you off of him, protecting you from his impulse. Stands you on your feet so that you're no longer victim to his inability to control himself.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" he grunts under his breath, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, it's-" Your brows curl in worry, turning to look at where he had clawed you - and he sees the purple bruises where his hand had wrenched the flesh of your ass, the red lines where his fingernails had nearly punctured you. "Oh," you breathe at the sight, "…wow."

Drowning in visceral shame, he can barely bring himself to touch you again. But your soft hand caresses his hair, running through the sandy tresses - you, somehow, the one to comfort him.

"It's okay, baby, I know you didn't mean to," you purr fondly, and he leans forward to shamefully press as soft a kiss as he can into the bruise he gave you. Fucking monster.

"I'm sorry," he croaks into your skin, hoping his guilt will reverse his barbarity. "I just missed you."

"I know," you croon, turning to plant a loving kiss into his hair. "It's okay."

You guide him to lean back, mounting his lap again, letting your pelvis grind against the erection you were quick to reawaken.

His hands barely ghosting over your skin, he restrains himself, touches you carefully.

You whisper, into his stubbled cheek; "I'll show you how to be gentle again."

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[cntloup]

18+ MDNI

imagine you're just chilling with simon on the couch watching trash tv while his hands rest on your waist

but one hand starts to drift lower and lower into your panties and his rough fingers begin to lazily toy with your clit, pinching and circling the sensitive bud

and his other hand trails higher under your shirt, playing with your boobs, kneading the soft flesh

you're just so warm and soft he can't help it :(

all the while his lips are pressed to your ear, cooing praises like "You're so pretty, baby... so soft... such a good girl f'me... jus' sittin' back and lettin' me play with you."

and now you're all worked up and whimpering, leaning closer into his touch

your pretty pussy all wet with your slick, begging to be filled up :(

and he rewards you by inserting two thick fingers into your weeping cunt

"Simon!" you gasp as he rolls and twists his calloused fingers against your sensitive sticky walls

he scissors his fingers inside you, making your sopping pussy squelch

your cheeks start to heat up at the sound

but soon the combination of his hand on your breasts, rough fingers rolling your perky pretty nipples between them and the pumping of his fingers inside your tight wet pussy makes your brain all foggy

and you're too far gone to care as your slick walls start to tighten around his fingers

"let go, baby. cum f'me." he murmurs while picking up the pace

and the all-consuming wave of your orgasm washes over you with a loud moan as your milky white cream coats his fingers

and he licks them clean off your juices

then brings his fingers to your lips and you lick the mix of your cum and his saliva off his fingers

i need him so bad it's not a joke anymore :(

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sending a video to Simon while he’s on deployment of you humping your body pillow in your cute lace baby blue panties with a little pink bow on the front, aka, his favorite pair, making sure he can see the now dark blue spot in them from soaking yourself.

You’re panting, squealing Simon’s name bouncing your ass on the pillow while you straddle it rubbing your twitching clit back and forth on it.

You have the camera positioned behind you to get a full view of your ass and pussy from behind and when you cum in your panties you make sure to arch your back so Simon can see how wet your orgasm made you.

He sees the video and immediately locks himself away in his bunk for the night, roughly fisting his cock over and over to you moaning his name, the soft jiggle of your ass and thighs, and the way your cunt just gushes for him like his own personal little cam girl.

God he can’t wait to get home.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Hi I'm your medic and I'll be drawing your blood today, as soon as I finish this capri sun Y/N: *misses the hole four times then finally punches the straw through the side* Ghost, sweating: PRICE

[ohmygraves]

after one of your leave, you came back to work with a ring around your finger.

you didn't mention it to anyone, and people simply noticed it when talking to you or handing you things. they congratulated you, talking about the ring. you nervously brushed it off, trying to explain it.

ghost didn't know about it either, and when he overheard someone talking about it, he dropped his mug of tea on the floor, the pieces scattering around the place.

this was such a shock to someone who had planned to propose to you.

well, propose might be a bit too far, considering you two are not even dating. he wanted to say it, but things were a little too hectic and he didn't have the guts to ask you out and moreover you're not sure if you'd like him... even if you two have been friends in the taskforce for years.

then again, in his mind, you two are practically an old married couple.

he was clearly upset by this, ignoring you and trying to push you away. he was undoubtedly hurt. did you elope with someone? why didn't you tell him? invite him to the party? did your "friendship" with him mean nothing at all?

ghost was snappy, in a terrible mood overall. he snaps at johnny, yells at gaz, and even glares at price. he was constantly on edge and it's starting to piss you off. so you confront him.

"what the hell's up with you?"

he didn't feel like humoring you, sitting down all irritated over his meal instead.

"you've been avoiding me all week, snapping at people... did i do something wrong?"

so he went off at you.

"wanna know what's wrong? you. coming back to base with a bloody ring. let me guess, you eloped with someone? is that it?" he hissed, "and here i thought i'd propose, that's out of the fuckin' window now."

you sat there, taking his words in. "... it's a fidget ring?"

you showed your hand to him, using your fingers to spin the little parts of your ring. he didn't realize how you've been fidgeting with it, or how you explained to people over and over that you're not married or engaged.

all of the sudden ghost felt like his blood ran cold, not only because he just acted so stupid jealous over a trinket, he basically admitted that he wanted to marry you.

"... wait, you wanted to propose to me?"