#call of duty: modern warfare 2

[temeyes]

Captain Garrick's first day on the job!!

[sweeetestcurse]

Simon “Ghost” Riley in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 10/??

[storiesbysoup]

Hey! Can I request ghost nsfw headcanons? Where he has a size kink and where he has a crush on you. Please?

Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Size Kink.

warning! this post contains mentions of NSFW — if you are under 18 years old, do not interact with it! notes: hello! yes of course, haha! thank you for the request, it's very much appreciated. <3 I'm not very good at headcannons, so please excuse me if this is bad! MASTERLIST.

Simon wasn't sure if would ever understand what love was.

He'd grown up with a void where the feeling of love should have been.

When he enlisted, he questioned if he would ever be happy with the choices he was going to make.

That was until he saw you.

You were a new recruit -- Private Lizard was what you were known about as.

The other members of 141 often called you by your real name from time-to-time, but Ghost never did.

"Keepin' it professional" was often what he would claim for his excuse, but you suspected it was because only Soap got a special nickname from the Ghost.

Simon remembers when he met you -- bright-eyed rookie that was excited to help out with something that they believed to be true and good.

Price recruited you to 141 and Ghost had no complaints. You were a pyrotechnics and sabotage -- two things that 141 was looking for.

Ghost trusted Price, so in return he trusted your ability to hold your weight while working with the team.

He had tried to keep himself distanced from you, but eventually failed as you grew closer with everyone.

Inevitably, he gained a small crush on you.

How could he not?

You were snarky -- not too much to be a smartass, but enough to get a laugh out of the hulking man. You were smart, you did your job well.

Often times on base, Ghost would hide himself in a secluded area and remove his mask. He'd breathe, taking a quick drag from a cigarette.

He wished he would simply quit, but knew it would take more than that.

Ghost would lean his head back against the cold, stone wall and let himself relax for the first time in weeks. In doing so, he failed to catch the sound of your soft footsteps slowly coming closer.

You simply sat yourself beside him and leaned your head against his shoulder, saying nothing. He jumped at the contact, hand immediately reaching for one of the few weapons he'd kept on himself.

When he recognized you, he immediately relaxed for hte majority. His mask was off -- he hadn't shown his face to anyone but Price. You had seen him.

Your eyes were closed as you rested against him, softly whispering.

"I didn't see your face, Ghost. Don't worry."

His heart leapt into his throat.

One of Ghosts hands came to encapsulate yours, his mind slowly churning as he noticed just how much smaller you were than him.

Ghost slumped himself down to let you lean against him better, gently placing his head on yours.

"You can if you want to."

That was the first time he said your real name and you think that's the moment you fell in love with Simon Riley.

He told you that you could call him Simon when they were off-duty. In this moment, he wasn't Ghost -- he was Simon.

You smiled, eyes fluttering open to admire his hand in yours.

The size difference was insane.

Simon was a big guy, that much was obvious: he stood at 6'4" and was a hulking mass. His hands reflected that as well.

As the two of you sat there, the size difference between you seemed to creep into Simons head more and more.

His crush on you grew from a simple, passing infatuation to a full-on immersion of love in the span of just four hours.

Simon's mind started to turn to the less flattering side of himself: he started to imagine what fucking you would be like.

How small would you appear to him if the two of you did have sex? Would his cock made you seem even littler?

He wasn't small in any places, after all.

The feeling of his cock growing harder as you said there, engulfed in each others embrace caused heat to rise to his face. He shouldn't be getting hard right now.

Plus, if the two of you were to have sex, it would be breaking so many rules. Lieutenant's weren't supposed to fuck their Privates.

But god did he want to.

He imagined what the taste of you would be like. Would you be sweet? You probably would -- you were a kind person at heart.

One day, Simon knew that he'd bring this up to you. He'd confess everything: the infatuation -- the love -- he bore for you, the perverse feelings that boiled inside of him.

One day, Simon Riley would admit he's in love with you.

written by storiesbysoup© 2023. I do not condone anyone translating my works and/or stealing them.

[moondirti]

Idk if you have answered an ask like this already but please feed me some possessive/ jealous Ghost hc or whatever bc that man is 10 times sexier while jealous and possessive.

Pls just imagine jealous sex with this man omg…

he would not know how to handle himself i'm pretty sure. sorry to sabotage your thirst anon, i just love me a repressed man :) anyway, this is for the same mc in cigarettes out the window (reader with the call sign 'scout') but it can be read entirely separate! so, without further ado here's some jealous ghost

He's colossal, a force composed of pure brawn and unfathomable depths. Talk of Ghost illustrates him as a norse warrior to end all, the nightmare fuel of enemies who can't help but pale at a skull face. Wholly a reputation founded on that tactical precision; charcoal eyes, half-lidded to contain the ire that bubbles like magma. It's all physical. You'd just assumed that strength extended to his emotional conviction as well.

But he gets quiet sometimes, eerily so. The type where he embodies his name and dissipates like shadow on you. You don't see him for days.

It definitely depends on the stage of your relationship. Catch him jealous before the six month mark and he'd choose to abandon ship. It's that instinctive fight or flight, the choice to back down and reassess before he loses another one of his men. But you're not the enemy; your hands are soft and supple when they cradle his face, never seeking to add to his scars. You're gentle when you tell him that it's him, always will be; no one can ever compare to the behemoth you'd surrendered your heart to.

It takes a lot of time to get Simon to the point where he allows himself to be possessive. The first time, it goes something like this:

Some bar in France, cleared out for their obligatory drink post-mission. Johnny had held him up, pulling him off to the side to start on a tangent about his makeshift bomb that ended up saving their lives. His eyes stay fixed on you, edging to his peripheral where you're caught up in a rather funny conversation with Gaz.

You muffle your snicker behind a shaking hand. Simons' own squeeze into fists.

While your relationship with the Lieutenant has yet to be defined, the men of the 141 recognise the silent claim that curls over your shoulders. It was written in your sleepy sigh, dewy skin gleaming with contentment, that night they'd woke at a safe house to find you three inches closer to his mattress. It was the first of many, many hints.

Garrick isn't flirting with you, not by a long shot.

But he is making you laugh. Perhaps harder than Simon ever has.

He can't really describe what overcomes him. It's a rib-shattering heartbeat, working overtime to supply his vision with brimming red. A deeply vulnerable pit bottoming out in his gut; that fear, still there, that you're only temporary. He only acts on the former so he won't face the latter.

He leaves Soap with no more than a clap on the back. The sergeant takes it for what it is, a promise to continue later.

"Price wants you on reports."

"Does he?" You shoot him an incredulous expression, shifting back and forth from his blank stare and the captain, who huddles near Laswell over a game of gin rummy.

"Affirmative." The response comes out faster than he'd like it to, clipped with full-bodied aggression.

"Right..." Licking your lip, you take a moment to match your scrutiny to his. Simon thinks he sees it, the glint your pupils take when you finally catch on. It combats the spite that courses through him, pooling down to fill the weight between his legs. Clever girl - you know him, probably better than he knows himself. "And I'm assuming you need to consult me on something regarding that?"

"Yes." It's all the indication you need.

"Well." You look to Garrick. "I'm sorry to cut this short, mate. Remember to tell me about Serbia some other time."

And Simon doesn't miss the odd look the sergeant gives you, lips curled downwards in an acknowledging humour. He doesn’t like that he’s comfortable enough to give that much. 

But you follow him, smaller footsteps matching his as he finds a secluded hallway near the bathroom. It’s a good thing, he – rather, his internal monologue that sounds too much like your voice – echoes.

"Gonna bring up what's wrong, or will I have to force it out of ya. Hm?"

"Didn' appreciate the way he was lookin' at you, pet."

Your breath hitches, clumped lashes fluttering as you take him in anew. If this were anything else, Simon would credit your grin to a cruel sadism. As it stands, though, he lets it guide the flow of his plastered heart. He's on the right track.

"And how was he looking at me, Si?"

The growl that leaves him is untamed, the feral rip release of a hand grenade. A large hand clamps over your jaw, pressing inwards so your lips pucker out at him. The other pushes your torso to the wall, skimming past the hem of your shirt.

It's new. It's thrilling. It's a wildfire turned eternal damnation, fuelled by a fatal sin that forever trumps envy. Lust, bubbling poison to his insecurity - practical headway into something he's good at. Words were never his forte, but he can fuck you like no one else can, thrusting deeper between your velvet walls than thought possible. It's always been enough to spur breathless awe.

Enough, enough.

"Like he could ever amount to me."

[undeadcannibal]

Can I have some funny/cute Headcannons with if the 141 men, Konig, Alejandro and Ruby walked into saw their s/o wearing some of their  military gear and checking themselves?

Summary: Headcanons for how the Task Force 141 crew, Alejandro, Rudy, and Konig would react to catching you wearing some of their gear.

Genre: Headcanons

Warnings: none!

A/N: Thanks for the request, Anon! I hope you enjoy these~ uwu( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost ―

He’d be fine with it so long as you don’t touch any of his masks. That’s one of the parts of him that he doesn’t want you connected to in any way.

Instead, you’d try on his thigh holsters and tactical belt, having always enjoyed the way they accentuated his waist and thighs.

You do your best to mimic the pattern you’ve seen him use them in. Strapping them snugly around your hips and thigh, pausing to admire them on your person afterward. You’re so caught up in checking yourself out, you don’t even notice Ghost in the doorway.

He’s been leaning against the door frame, watching you go about trying on some of the safer gear he’s left out here and there.

He’d never thought he’d like the idea of a partner of his wearing his gear, worried it’d bring up some memories he’d hoped to keep buried. Yet, after he checks you out sporting his belt and thigh holster, he can’t help but shaking his head. Laughing softly when you finally catch sight of him and whip around to face him.

“I-I can explain!”

“No need.”

As you’d begin to stammer and try apologize to him, he’d roll his eyes at you before settling a heavy hand on top of your head. Ruffling the hair there till it was a mess and you were pouting up at him.

“They look good on you.” He’d comment, stepping in and looming over you as he reached down to tug at one of the straps around your thigh, delighting in the way it wrapped around your leg. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but now he understood why others had a kink for their gear. Ghost thoroughly enjoys the way the straps accentuate your thighs, ending just below your backside.

May ask you to wear some more of his simple gear more often just to see how good you look in it. Has to will himself out of thinking of you whenever he’s wearing the same pieces you’ve tried on. Knowing he looks nowhere near as good as you do despite what you say.

Soap ―

Johnny’s busy cooking breakfast when your curiosity hits.

Quietly entering the room you share so you can sneak over to the spot you know where he keeps his military gear at. At the ready just in case he ever needs to leave in a hurry.

Your fingers trail over tan polyester and vinyl as you stop to examine his tac vest. Glancing over the numerous pouches and compartments for all sorts of tools he used in situations.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you carefully pick it up. It’s obviously heavier than you expected, but that doesn’t come as a surprise. Soap mentioned the grueling training they went through to get adjusted to all of the weight they had to carry out in the field.

As your mind continues to wander, you find yourself slipping the vest on your person. Turning and marveling at the sight of yourself in Soap’s own vest as you strike numerous ‘strong man’ poses. Knowing that if you had to carry the same amount he had, you’d probably fall to the ground and need help getting back up. Not that that stops you.

While you’re still busy practicing numerous goofy poses with his vest, you hear a familiar chuckle from behind you. Turning to see Soap grinning at you cheekily.

“Aw, why’d you stop, lass? I was enjoying the show!” He’d joke before mocking you by repeating some of the same poses you were doing earlier.

Gaz ―

He was in the shower when you saw some of his gear on top of the table in the living room.

Most of it was stuff you knew you were better off leaving alone, yet... as soon as your eyes laid their sights on his headgear. His cap was well faded and sporting a UK flag patch on the front, as well as having what looked liked a communication system attached at the sides.

Carefully sneaking the cap on and pulling your hair through the back of it for a more natural look, you turned around and promptly made your way to your bathroom so you could check yourself out properly.

After knocking and letting him know you were entering the bathroom, you stepped in and swiped at the mirror to get a better look at yourself.

Of course, the cap was loose on your head from the size difference of you two, but the more you turned around and admired yourself in it, you couldn’t help but grin. Turning your head when you heard Gaz exiting the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

Although his eyes widened in shock seeing you in his cap, he didn’t seem put off in any way. Instead, he laughed softly and stepped closer to get a better look at you sporting his cap.

“How’s it feel?” He asked, grinning at you.

Reaching up to the headset, you pretended to use the comms attached. “Sergeant Garrick reporting for duty!” You exclaimed, offering a mock salute in exchange.

Gaz playfully rolled his eyes at your impression of him.

“Next time Price has us doing drills, I’ll make sure to send you in my place, love.”

Price ―

He’s out picking up more cigars he enjoys when you were cleaning up around the house and noticed a tan scarf and hat you’d seen before. Recognizing it as the same two that John often wore when he was out on the field.

You knew you should have left them alone. Or, at the very least, put them away with the rest of his things, yet... You didn’t. Instead, you glanced around - as if you’d be caught and punished - before grabbing the scarf and hat.

Arranging the Boonie hat on your head before the scarf went around your shoulders, neck, and the bottom of your face, you glanced at yourself in the hallway mirror. Noting that the scarf smelled exactly like him as you admired the dual feelings of familiarity and anonymity of the combination.

You can picture Price in your place... His face shielded from both the wind and sand during his missions. Or, having to resort to using it as a pillow in a pinch in some safe house in the middle of nowhere.

The secret knock he’d informed you about could be heard before the sound of the door unlocking and opening afterwards. “Sweetheart! I’m home!”

When you faced him, Price didn’t look displeased or upset with you for wearing some of his gear. Instead, he walked over to you and dropped his shopping bag at his feet. Leaning down to meet you halfway as you leaned up towards him.

“Playing ‘dress up’, are we?”

You’d nod affirmatively up at him before delivering a swift kiss directly to his lips.

Alejandro ―

 It was the morning of the day Alejandro had to leave for work again.

You were helping him pack when you noticed you’d were holding the black sweater he often wore for casual missions. Noting the worn look of the black material that carried the briefest scent of his cologne and detergent now. Having once smelt like musk, sweat, and gunpowder he’d washed it.

He’d left to take a call not to long ago, so you figured now was the best time to act on your impromptu plan. Unzipping the jacket, you slipped your arms through the sleeves and tucked it closer to your form before closing it, the size difference between you two evident now more than ever as you stood there in his baggy coat.

“Mi amor!”

Guess his call had ended just in time.

Alejandro entered your bedroom, pausing for a moment in the doorway as he took in your appearance. The moment it sank in that you were wearing his jacket, you saw his eyes slowly rake over your body. Clearly admiring the view.

“As much as I love seeing you in my clothing...” Alejandro appeared to have snapped out of his stupor now that he’d walked over to you, reaching down to pull you into his arms with a devious grin. “Unfortunately, I need that for work. Mind if I have it back?”

“Hm...” You hummed softly as you pretended to mull the thought over before you suddenly looked up at him with a devious gleam in your eyes. “Nope! If I keep your jacket, that means you’ve to stay home with me. Hah~”

Giving a little growl in return, you gasped as you found yourself being lifted into the air by Alejandro reaching down and grabbing you, settling his hands right beneath the curvature of your ass.

“We’ll see about that...”

Rodolfo ―

“Rudy,” You questioned, slowly walking your fingers over his chest.

“Si, mi vida?” He replied casually, not evening bothering to open his eyes while he rested beneath you.

As sneakily as you could, you’d reached over to the gloves he’d discarded the moment he’d arrived home. Doing your best to quietly pull them on over your slimmer hands before he was peeking at you through his lashes. Smiling when he’d noticed you grinning down at him with a mischievous smile on your face.

“What’s that look for, huh?”

Miming aiming the sights of a gun down at him with both hands, you giggled as you did your best to fake an intimidating voice. Kinda like the one you’ve heard Alejandro use on occasion.

“Special Forces, hands up!”

Scoffing and shaking his head, Rodolfo slowly raised his hands in mock surrender before he suddenly turning his head towards you. Grinning like a mad man before pouncing. Wrapping his arms around you to pull you in for a sudden kiss that had you squealing in surprise.

König ―

wearing a spare mask of his he has back at home

Sitting on top of the edge of König’s desk, you casually swung your legs, eyes closed since he was busy switching out masks. Having mentioned something about his current one being too worn for daily use ever since his last mission.

You could hear the rustling of fabric before something being tossed onto the desk to your side.

“You can open your eyes now.”

After you’d opened your eyes, you couldn’t help looking over to your side to see that he’d tossed his old mask onto his desk. Glancing over to König, he seemed busy adjusting his new mask to his liking. Too busy to notice you grabbing the old, raggedy mask he’d rid himself of.

Unsure what possessed you to do so, you found yourself slipping the mask over your own head. Positioning the stretched out holes where your own eyes were so you could see out of it. Now that you were wearing it, you couldn’t help but have an odd feeling of déjà vu. Walking over to examine yourself in the same mirror König had been using.

Watching you approach, he stared down at you curiously with bright eyes.

“Is that my old mask, Schatz?”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, quick question though, hon...”

“Hm?”

Hesitating before asking your next question, you tilted your head to the side curiously. Squinting at him with your reflection in the mirror. “Is your ‘mask’ actually an old t-shirt?”

. . .

“. . . Yes.”

[tube-tarling]

Making terrible financial decisions is my passion

[ghostsbaby]

BABE. WE NEED A FANFIC OF THE READER RIDING SIMONS THIGH LIKE RN, LIKE IMAGINE HIM BOUNCING HIS LEG UP AND DOWN TO TEASE THE READER OH MY GOD?

pairing - ghost x fem!babygirl reader

word count - 742

warnings - just some thigh riding, name calling, bad plotting and daddy kink!

a/n - got you baby! hope it’s okay. it’s not a complete fic but had to whip something up. let me know if you want something different. not proof read so if things don’t make sense oops I apologize 🖤🖤🖤

-

You weren’t facing him. Weren’t witnessing the change in his eyes when he felt your cunts heartbeat against his thigh. Weren’t seeing the amusement in his grin when you didn’t make a sound about it.

So he only did what felt natural. Tease.

He knew how to get your attention while you just sat there in his lap solving a puzzle with your holes untouched and pussy dancing on his thigh. Ghost knew how to fuck with you.

You had just finished the border, putting the last piece in place before moving onto the next section of the 1000 piece puzzle that had a picture of a cute puppy on it with pretty pink flowers. How cute he thought, gonna ruin it.

Of course at this time you weren’t alone. The rest of 141 already joined in the same room while Ghost had plans of turning you into putty. Gaz and Soap were watching a movie while Price began to softly snore on the couch. Perfect.

Looking for matching pieces you were playing oblivious to Ghosts intentions, not even noticing his growing cock under you until you felt the first bounce and heard the light tap of his boot hit the ground.

Your eyes zeroed in on one of the pieces in your hand, coming back from your little princess world of everything perfect now that you know what Ghosts really doing. You were sitting in his lap and occasionally, but purposely fluttering your pussy all over his thigh. You knew he could feel it.

The bouncing of his leg continued and it only made you weaker, starting to lose focus on the puzzle in front of you while the only thing Ghost is paying attention to is your cunt bouncing against him. It wasn’t the first time.

It didn’t take long for your panties to soak. The fabric thin and rubbing against you, his pants having all sorts of pockets and buttons that you find one and press your sensitive bud into it. Fuck he was going to have so much fun with you.

Ghost sat lazily in the chair, watching and waiting your every move while he bounced his leg. Starting off slow before going into a continuous rhythm of trying to get you to come while the boys were in the same room, almost all of them awake. Ghost knows how fucking loud you are and is going to use it against you.

You roll your hips impatiently and deeper. Your feet hanging off the floor under you, only bracing on Ghosts thigh as the puzzle doesn’t exist to you anymore. All hope of you being silent and not giving into your boyfriends shenanigans was thrown out the door.

“Look at you baby. Fuck.”

Low growling in your ear, his pace slightly quickening to see what noises he could get away with. You squeaked, hands bracing against the table while you started to hump Ghosts thigh and he fucking loved it. Ghost didn’t need to look over to notice the shift in Soap’s body and it drove him mad.

Ghost wasn’t even fucking touching you and you were melting all over his leg, riding his thigh like it was his cock you were gonna cum all over. His cock stretched his pants tighter and tighter while you desperately dry humped the Lieutenant.

“Do you want them to see you? Fucking slut.”

His hands finally made contact with your hips as he brought you down even harder against his thigh, making you hump against him vigorously until he could feel your body start to go limp. He held you up effortlessly, pushing his knee up so your clit presses against the buttons on his pocket and rolls your hips in circular motions.

You’re panting, letting out a string of moans before Ghost starts to bring you to orgasm from words you never wanna repeat.

“Come on baby. Ride Daddy’s thigh until you’re making a mess.”

The puzzle pieces scattered on the table started to fall off the table while you whined and whimpered out moans, hitting the ground with just enough noise that Price opens his eyes while you’re shaking against Ghost and he holds you down harder, leaving bruises where he dug his fingers into your sides.

You dared yourself to look in the captain’s direction, turning your head ever so slightly until it’s brought back to the puzzle in front of you by a hand closing your throat.

[dropped-their-sniper]

just a silly lil man!! doing silly lil military things!! just a tiny guy!! 

[miyku]

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

[ncthandrake]

JOHN "SOAP" MACTAVISH ↳ Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2

[temeyes]

waiting for pick-up

[sweeetestcurse]

Simon “Ghost” Riley in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 13/??

[storiesbysoup]

Rough Fingers, Gentle Kisses.

lieutenant simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader. 4.6k word count warnings: NSFW CONTENT -- 18+ ONLY. [p in v sex, no condom, creampie, oral - female receiving, minor overstim, praising.], gun descriptions,  extra: reader is not a soldier and this is extremely self-indulgent. I’m sorry. MASTERLIST

NSFW POST!

SYNOPSIS: Simon is out on a mission for over a month with radio-silence. You’ve never gone this long without hearing him. Is he okay? Did he finally encapsulate his codename?

To believe that Simon Riley, Lieutenant Ghost, was big and scary wasn’t an understatement. The man was well over six foot, had a thick build, and spoke with a voice so overwhelming and deep that it nearly shook wherever he spoke. Alongside this, he wore that fucking mask. The one that hid who he really was -- the one that kept Simon Riley and Ghost separate.

A piece of you questioned why he trusted you. It was bizarre, honestly. Ghost trusted no one -- he barely even trusted his own teammates. Yet, you were the one he trusted most. He cared for you more than you’d ever know. 

While Ghost was known to his teammates, Simon was hidden for you. Certain nights were Simon nights. He would let you take off the mask at whatever pace you wanted, would let you be as gentle as you wanted with him. It didn’t matter. He was with you -- he was home.

Ghost truly never stayed for long. He wanted to stay, to let you sit in his arms as you simply breathed. Watching as your chest expanded and deflated, your head curled into his thick chest.

He could stay there forever.

This latest mission that Task Force 141 had been sent on was infuriating him by the second. Every single day, it seemed like the mission went on for longer and longer. It started as two weeks, then three, then a month. Ghost was on the verge of simply putting his foot down and refusing.

Price pressed his hands onto the table, smoothing out the map. “Al’ight,” His heavy British accent came through somewhat muffled due to the cigar that hung from his lips. “Ghost ‘nd Soap will push through ‘ere. Gaz ‘n I’ll go ‘ere. Get the info, get out. Simple?”

A silent yet unanimous ‘yes sir’ filled the room as the men glanced between each other. They were trying to get info on an unnamed target, at least unnamed to Ghost himself. He doubted Price knew, but it was unimportant.

The gun in his hands was heavy, a Remington ACR with an ACOG scope -- not too heavy or complex, but well-enough to be easily carried as he ran. It sat well against his chest, despite the extra items strapped to him. His eyes dashed down, double-checking the ammo he had stored.

His pistol, a basic M9, rested in a holster against his chest. The noise it made as it clashed against his ACR practically made him grit his teeth: too loud. Too much noise that could potentially get him caught. Brown eyes hidden behind the skull mask dashed to Soap.

The Scot was loud outside of work, but when they were on deployment, Ghost swore he was an entirely different man. It practically made a laugh erupt from him whenever he saw it.

All he wanted was to be done with this fucking mission and go home, be with you -- he nearly cried the other night because he wanted to hear your voice. It was uncharacteristic of him to crave anothers presence but here he was.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Price’s heavy voice came clear through the headphones on his head, quickly turning his mic on and responding. “Clear. Moving forward.” Ghost looked towards Soap, nodding quietly. That was why they worked so well together -- not a word needed to be said for them to have a full conversation.

He promised you that he’d introduce you to Soap one day. In his eyes, if the two of you got along, everything would start to turn up his way. A premature hope, but one that he stuck by.

Quickly and silent as possible, Ghost did what he did best: knifework. Making dead weight of two soldiers, he stepped towards the desk covered in paperwork. A gloved hand passed over the documents until he stopped on one.

Y/N L/N. PARTNER OF #####. LOCATION UNKNOWN.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Were they tracking you? Why were they tracking you? He bit at his bottom lip, curiosity plaguing his mind as his eyes darted across the pages. 

A small piece of him hoped you were safe at home. Safe in the home he created. Ghost sighed, feeling Soap’s hand against his shoulder. Right, the mission.

He shook his head. “Nuthin’. Left already, ‘spose.” Soap’s brow furrowed as he grumbled under his breath, too quiet for Ghost to understand. The Brit’s eyes left his friend to look back towards the doorway. A hand was ghosting over his pistol, fingers flexing as anxiety began to prickle.

When Prices voice came through on his headset, he let out a breath. They were clear to leave. They were going home. Not just to base, but off deployment for at least a week.

Soap and Ghost clasped their hands together, a grin on the Scots face as he nodded. “We did it, L.T.” Ghost shook his head, grumbling. “Just a simple mission, Johnny. Don’t twist your panties.”

As Ghost finished his mission, you sat at home afraid. Simon was never radio silent with you, he tried to contact you as soon as he could as often as possible. It’d been two weeks. You were scared that he died.

No, Ghost didn’t die. You knew that well enough -- he’d ensured it to you. A hand crept itself up to your neck where a copy of his dog tags sat. He’d given them to you one night after your version of a welcome-home session.

Chest heaving, Simon rolled onto his back next to you. His dog tags sat against his slick chest, stuck due to the sweat that had accumulated. A silent ‘I love you’ was said as you both laid there, exhausted.

A few moments later, you rolled over and laid your head on his chest. It helped calm you, his heartbeat: it was slow and methodical. Not too fast, not too slow, just right. 

Your hand had absentmindedly gone up to trace his tags, letting your fingers delicately tracing the wording on them. A smile crested your face, eyes swollen with exhaustion as your cheek pressed against his chest.

Simon chuckled softly, hand tracing your frame as he listened to your soft breaths. “Enjoyin’ yourself there, princess?” Giggles filled the hot room as you buried your face within your large lovers upper body. His hand clenched around your side, keeping you close by his side.

“I’ll make you a pair, pet. It’ll be a way for me to be wit’cha while I’m on deployment.”

The frown that overtook your smile made his heart cry. He didn’t like seeing you sad or hurt. Made him feel like he’d done bad as a partner, as a boyfriend. “Hey, hey -- you know I hate it too. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Ghosts can’t die, remember?”

You snorted, gently thwacking him in the side as you giggled. He loved your laugh, your smile -- he loved you. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to, but you helped him understand it somewhat better.

Here, now a month later, you sat on the bed you shared with Simon with your hand clenching the tags tightly. Tear-stained cheeks and loud sniffles filled the silence of your home. Right now, the worst of the worst came to mind. To you, Simon had died. Ghost had died.

Memories of him flooded your mind. The first time you met -- it was a funny story, actually. You’d been out in a local grocery shop, getting the monthly items you needed to stock up the apartment you rented.

While walking, you were roughly shouldered out of the way, your balance quickly faltering and colliding with the hard cold flooring. Ghost had picked up your belongings and helped you up, offering you a hand as his other held your basket.

His eyes were difficult to understand, but not impossible. Warm, deep brown that reminded you of elderly trees felt more comforting in that moment than anything else you’d ever known. A soft thank you fell from your lips, admiring the way his facial shape appeared. It was difficult to understand what he look like due to the skull-jaw mask he wore. 

Ghost had decided to help you with your shopping, something appealing to a lurking sense of emotion in his cold heart. You learned his name during that encounter, and soon after got his phone number. Simon Riley, the Ghost. A silly nickname that you didn’t understand until later, but one that you adored no matter what.

You wiped at your face with the shirt you wore, one of Simons by chance, as you tried to silence your crying. Mouth dry, nose stuffed -- everything felt icky. A solemn look across the room only worsened your mood. 

His clothes were strewn about, left the same since he’d left so you could at least harbor a bit of normality while your lover was gone. Simon was always a tidy person, or at least he tried to. When he would be home for breaks, he’d often scold you for how messy the house had gotten.

The blue-white illumination from your phone caught your attention. Heart pounding in your ears, worry clouding your gaze. What if that was Price, alerting you that something had happened to him? You didn’t know if you could stand to have the confirmation of your worst fears.

You wiped away your tears and turned your phone face-down. It’d be a few moments before you could even manage courage to actually look at whatever the notification was. It could’ve been a normal notification -- maybe it was social media.

Deep, slow breaths helped calm you down. A clenched hand against the blankets let you safely and carefully express your nervousness and fear. Your throat felt dry as you coughed, wiping at your face again. Silence overcame the house for a small while before the loud interruption of the front door opening caught your attention.

Nobody knew you were here except yourself, Simon, and Price. He was the only member of of 141 that knew of you, simply because Simon trusted Price with his life. Heavy doubt filled your mind that it was Price or Simon, so you grabbed your phone and walked out the bedroom slowly. 

The pad of your socked feet against the hardwood flooring countered the heavy boots by the door. Your heart leaped into your throat, questioning if that could be your Simon. You really hoped so, because if it wasn’t you were surely fucked.

You peeked your face around the corner, eyes wide with fear and curiosity. A breath held itself in your throat before escaping. There he was -- he was home.

You leapt forward, arms reaching out and grabbing onto him as you sobbed in delight. Wide, thick arms wrapped around your middle as you clung to the man in your doorway. His hands went to your hair, petting it as you sobbed into his chest. A piece of you didn’t believe that he was real right now -- you didn’t fully believe that this was your Simon alive and well.

“Si?”

“I’m home, love.”

Another sob ripped through you as your face buried itself in his chest. You couldn’t believe that he was actually here, alive and well. Simon pressed one hand against your back, keeping you close as he moved away from the door. His fingers tapped against your thigh, a silent signal of him wanting to carry you. 

Your arms found their way around his neck, holding onto him as you sobbed harder and harder. The realization that he was really there still hadn’t encapsulated entirely but you were so, so happy that he was alive and safe.

Ghost -- Simon -- pulled your head back softly, gloved hand tracing your cheek and wiping off a straying tear. His mask sat on his face was practically taunting you as his brown eyes watched your every move. One of your hands pulled away from his neck momentarily, tentative fingers tracing the edge of the mask. 

He made no move to stop you as you hooked your fingers on the bottom lip of the mask, pulling it up and off of the man. A breath escaped the both of you as you got to encapsulate his face entirely. Large, sullen brown eyes that light up at the mere sight of your face. Thin, pale lips that were wet from his tongue darting between them. 

God, you loved this man so much. 

Simon, now with a revealed face, brushed his thumb against your cheekbone once more. He smiled softly, eyes darting across your face before landing on your lips. His tongue darted out once again, wetting his lips slightly before he leaned in.

When you kissed, it felt like fireworks were going off in your stomach. It was euphoric, the feeling of kissing him. You learned early on that Simon was a good kisser, and especially more that he was a gentle lover. His hands, though rough and calloused, never truly did any harm to you. 

Simon was a rough man. His hands were the opposite of gentle and caring, and yet that’s exactly how he treated you. He was so kind and soft with every grace of his fingers, every kiss he placed. The hulking man before you was the definition of loving when he was with you.

“Sweetheart, hey, hey,” His voice was soft as he listened to your quiet sniffles. “I’m home. I’m here with you, love. Why’re you cryin’?” You shook your head, pressing your face into his collarbone once again and trying to stop your whimpers. Simons heart broke at each whimper, worried that he had become the cause of your cries.

In a sense, he wasn’t wrong.

Soft words filled the air between the two of you as you explained the fear that you’d experienced. Simon was in the military: he wasn’t a new face to the chilling hands of fear. It was something that he had hoped to hide you from, before everything else.

He leaned down, pressing his lips against your forehead. Seeing you scared, hurt -- it made him feel terrible. Some days Simon wished he could just retire already and stay at home with you, but he knew those days weren’t for him. Not just yet.

Simon placed an arm behind your knees and his other on your back before literally swiping you off the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto his tightly. He wouldn’t drop you, you were fully aware, but you still held onto him.

“I’m sorry, love. I couldn’t text you while I was on the mission, needed to be secret.”

Simon pressed a kiss on your forehead again, his scruffy beard scratched itself against your skin as he walked to the bedroom. His eyes jumped across each painting that he’d placed in the hallway. One of the two of you on your first date, when you moved in with him, even one from when you met his captain.

He smiled. Simon had never truly had a happy moment before you. His life had been terrible, from his father to his service, nothing had ever truly gone Simon’s way. It made loving you feel so odd. At times it even felt wrong because of how different the two of you.

Gently, he placed you on the plush bedspread, watching as your body sat flush against the blankets. His lumbering body towered over you, his dog tags falling from inside his shirt to dangle above your face. That was a sight he loved, you with dog tags.

“Si?” “Mm?” “Can... can we be gentle tonight? I- I know we haven’t seen each other in a while but...” “Course we can, sweetheart. I wasn’t gonna be too rough with you.”

Simon leaned down further, pressing his lips to yours as one of his hands pressed into the blankets behind you. His body wanted to deepen the kiss and kiss you aggressively, feverously, but he held back. You specifically requested that tonight was gentle. 

He pulled away, leaning above you as he admired you. Eyes tracing every single mark on your face, all of the little imperfections you would unconsciously pick out on yourself. He thought you were truly gorgeous, in all honesty.

His fingers trailed town, hooking onto your shirt and slowly beginning to tug upwards. His eyes flickered upwards to yours, asking for silent consent. You nodded -- he knew he had consent, but he always asked beforehand. It was kind.

The shirt came off quickly, being thrown to some side of the room that Simon couldn’t care less about in the moment. He was aware you didn’t wear a bra when you were at home, especially late in the evenings. Simon scooted himself down, latching his lips onto one of your nipples as he clenched the other in one of his large palms.

His low, labored breaths were hot against your skin, writhing under his grasp as he continued his assault against your chest. The wet ‘pop!’ that came from him lifting his mouth from your breast was enough to force your face red. A wicked grin sat on his features as he captured your lips in a soft kiss.

You softly tugged at his shirt, Simon immediately catching on and pulling it up, tossing it in the general direction of your shirt. His eyes trailed down as your fingers tracer the scars across his torso. He’d told you about each of them one night, when the two of you were just laying in bed. 

Simon pushed himself down, trailing kisses down your naval until he pressed one to your pelvis. He did the exact same thing he had done with his shirt, exposing the happy trail of dark hair going down his naval. His fingers hooked themselves on the rim of your soft pajama pants and underwear. With a single nod, they came off quickly. 

He pressed kisses to your newly exposed skin, leaving soft little bite marks on both of your thighs. Teeth latching onto the soft skin, his eyes looked up to you. In this moment, Simon was the most beautiful thing in the world. Brown eyes illuminated by the lamp sitting beside the two of you, scruffy beard imperfectly filled in, large hands holding your legs apart. 

One more kiss was placed on your skin before Simon pressed his face into your cunt, tongue lapping at the pink flesh. His hands hooked around the backs of your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, letting his tongue begin it’s inner assault. 

You whimpered, head falling back into the blankets as one hand clutched his hair. Simon grinned against your cunt, lapping up your juices as if it was the last meal he’d ever get to fully experience. He groaned against you, tongue exploring you as much as he could.

Simon groaned again in response, metaphorically drinking in your moans and whimpers. He pulled his head up momentarily, watching you with lust-heavy eyes. “Sweetheart, you an’ I both know that I could sit here ‘nd eat for the rest of the fuckin’ night. As much as we’d both enjoy that, I think you wan’ somethin’ a little bigger than my fuckin’ tongue.”

He sat up, thick fingers losing their gloves as they glossed over your body. One of his hands remained between your thighs, fingers slowly creeping closer to your weeping cunt. Simon grinned at your writhing body, beginning to press a finger against your clit. He chuckled at the cry you let out, back arching.

“What, my little pet can’t take it? You wanna be good for me, don’t you? Be my good little pet -- good pets get rewards.” 

He laughed at your whimpering pleas, listening to you as you begged and sobbed. Simon wouldn’t categorize himself as a sadist, but he did enjoy overstimulating you a bit. Your whimpering begs and cries as you writhed in the pleasure were music to his ears. 

“Good pet.”

Simon’s hands went to his belt, beginning to work on undoing it. The cling of its metal caught your attention as you sat up on your elbows, panting softly as you watched him. You whined, wanting his hands back on your body. He smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your skin. 

His pants dropped but a moment later, underwear included as his cock stood straight. It slapped against the naval of his stomach, covering the happy trail that sat against his skin. You wanted to reach forward and press a trail of kisses against it, but Simon had other plans.

He pushed you down slowly, chuckling softly as you gasped with your back hitting the bed. “I treasure you so dearly, my little one.” His voice was barely over a whisper as he leaned over, whispering things that would otherwise be absolutely lost to the darkness.

Both of his hands rubbed the backs of your thighs, thumbs grazing over the soft flesh as he pushed them backwards. When the two of you got together, you never would have thought that you would be able to touch your knees to your chest, but Simon quickly proved that you, in fact, could.

Simon took his cock in one hand, using the other to give your clit slight stimulation as he rubbed his tip against your slit. You keened, whining softly as you begged him to ‘hurry up, Si. I need you.’ With a heavy chuckle, he pressed his tip into your slit. 

He wasn’t a small man in any sense. From his towering height to the sheer amount of mass he was, Simon was a large man. On the battlefield, he was a good soldier to push and move in to fight. In day-to-day life, he was like the perfect guard dog. 

In the bedroom, he believed that he was more... difficult to exist. Simon believed himself to be too large for the actions that would happen within those confined walls. You quickly proved his worries to be just worries.

Simon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in escape him as his tip pressed into you. The feeling of your nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder nearly made him pound your cunt as hard as he could, but then he remembered what you had asked of him.

He bit his lip, slowly allowing you to get used to his size -- it had been a little over a month since you’d last taken him. A prideful grin broke across his features as he slowly pressed himself deeper and deeper, listening to the small sounds you’d make in response to him. He leaned his head down, pressing light kisses to your collarbone.

“That’s a girl, you’re doin’ so good for me.”

His praise alone was enough to make you wet enough for him. Whimpers and desperate begs filled the air of the room as he sheathed himself fully inside your cunt. Simon huffed, forgetting just how good the feeling of you felt. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

Your cries of pleasure just by the minor movement of him bucking his hips in-and-out fueled him. He pressed a hand against one of your thighs, using it as leverage as he attempted to press himself deeper. This was for you -- Simon would have been fine without having sex. His sex drive was high but he could repress the urge.

Arms coming up, inviting him closer as your face melded into one of his absolute favorites -- the most euphoric, pleasure-filled face he’d ever seen on you. Every single time he saw your face contort, he fell more in love with you. Simon leaned down, pressing another kiss into your lips before pulling back and panting against your lips.

“Fuck -- sweetheart, I’m close.” “Me... me too... Si...” “With me, love. Come with me.”

Simon growled into your ear, cock throbbing against your cunt. It felt like you were trying to milk him, as if your pussy was purposefully sucking him in deeper. You whined out loudly, clawing at his back as your orgasm neared closer and closer. “Si -- Si, please-” His voice was so low and quiet you almost didn’t catch his demands.

The room was filled with your pleas and whimpers as you pleaded with him to let you cum, sobbing out and nearly begging him for your orgasm. Simon let go of the grasp on your thighs, pressing his hands into the blankets beside your head. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, pulling him in closer and deeper.

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as his hips sped up. The slow, methodic thrusts he had been keeping up dissipated, now being replaced by a faster, harder, deeper rhythm. Your moans fueled his orgasm, one of his hands reaching down and pressing against your clit. The fingers against your cunt rubbed your clit as he chased his orgasm, growling into your ear as he barked orders to you.

“C’mon, c’mon love, cum for me. Fuck -- all over my cock, sweetheart. Thatta girl -- good pet, that’s my good girl.”

His praises heated the flame of your orgasm, the white heat of it rushing to overwhelm you. Your arms and legs clenched down onto him, wanting him as close as you physically could have him while your orgasm ripped through you. 

Simon groaned, cock throbbing as his orgasm tore through both of you. His head curled down, into your neck and biting down on your collarbone. A silent marking that you were his -- as if the cum that had just been poured into you didn’t say that you belonged to him already.

He stayed there for a moment, letting his cock empty itself inside of you. His teeth let go of your skin, slowly flattening himself onto you as his cock rested inside of you. He sighed out into your skin, slowly pressing small kisses into your neck. 

The two of you stayed there for a moment, just letting yourselves calm down from the orgasms you had just experienced. Simon wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he laid onto his back. Somehow, he’d kept himself inside of your cunt while turning himself over.

Simon looked down to you, eyes soft as you took your breaths on top of his chest. You nuzzled your face into his warm chest, feeling to chill of the house begin to creep into the bedroom. His head fell back against the pillows, one arm reaching over to pull a blanket across your body.

“Mm... Si?” “Hm?” “I love you.”

He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your hair as he rubbed your back. “I love you too, sweetheart. Now get some sleep -- I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” You smiled in response, giggling softly. Simon always understood you further than you’d ever know. 

Simon Riley was a big and scary man, but he was also a kind and loving man. He was soft and gentle behind that mask he wore. The mask that only you could see past. You never got to see Ghost -- you only got to see Simon Riley himself. If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind it either way.

written by storiesbysoup© 2023. I do not condone anyone translating my works and/or stealing them.

[moondirti]

👉🏼👈🏼 any cute headcanons for König? And maybe some lewd..? I’m falling hard for this mountain aaaaaa

hi babe! I'm quite new to König so forgive me if this is a little rough. but i agree, he's very sexy miscellaneous könig headcanons:

SFW

a guaranteed ginger, fully freckled and all. his skin is extremely sensitive to the sun too, given he wears the sniper mask most of the time. he got a bad sunburn once and didn't really... know how to properly take care of it, just picked and peeled at the skin until it got extremely irritated, then took a cold shower to ease the heat.

because, he is a shower man. i mean, there isn't much of an option for frequent luxurious soaks in the military, but even when deployed, he doesn't fit into most bathtubs. with the water filled all the way, his knees and half his torso still stick out. (that is to say, he's taller than most shower heads too. his neck aches from crouching too long so they're limited to 5 minutes at the most).

really long eyelashes. all his hair grows out really quick, actually. when he first joined the GAF, he tried to make an effort to groom himself regularly. eventually, though, it just got too tedious. he still trims his own hair on occasion, but not until it curls around his ears and proves to impede his vision during missions.

the fact that he can't sit still is already canon, but i imagine König's grip is especially jittery. he often fumbles and drops ammunition while reloading; everyone thinks it's because his hands are too big to properly handle the bullets, but really, it's the adrenaline-fuelled tremor that constantly courses through him. it proves to be disastrous when he's trying to aim and shoots his gun off prematurely, his uncontrollable trigger finger rendering it impossible to actually hover over the trip.

NSFW

König's got three sweet spots. - His ear (all of it, but mostly the earlobe) - bite him there or blow air on the shell and he'll be a whimpering mess in less than a minute. - His abdomen, which can't handle the gentle graze of your nails down the sides - it assures that he erupt into gooseflesh every time. - Most of all, his balls. Whenever you go down on him, he'd rather you suckle the heavy weights and jack him off instead of vice versa. In fact, during one of your first times together, you cupped them through his pants and he creamed himself.

Doesn't have any specific names he calls you in bed. He tends to lose himself in the pleasure and becomes an incoherent mess; the only things out of his mouth are usually screeching pleas and breathless groans.

Was actually insecure about his size before he met you. Not to say he was a virgin, or small in any sense of the word - König just became accustomed to the borderline abnormal sizes present in animated porn. It only took three cases of 'fuck, it literally doesn't fit inside- oh my god. Oh my god, you're practically bulging out of me' for him to realise that he's way above average.

[hbfengxi]

i want justice for soap because why is it always speak ENGLISH mactavish but never speak SLOWER riley.

would anyone in the 141 really understand a pissed-off ghost whose manchester accent is already muffled by the mask.

the team plays a prank involving his knives and suddenly they’re being cussed out but all they can comprehend is that they’ve been called fucking knobheads twice in the span of ten seconds

[tube-tarling]

Patched up nap