#simon ghost riley mw2

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

When it comes to sex with you, Simon Riley doesn’t fuck you- he worships you.

Fucking is for the people who’d come before you. Emotionless one night stands, with people he never gave a second thought. Trysts that never meant anything beyond the bedroom. But you? Oh no, he doesn’t fuck you.

He’ll kiss you, deep and slow, his mouth moving against yours in an agonizing way. His tongue will explore your mouth, tasting you, groaning against the feel of your lips against his.

His eyes will undress you before his fingers do. His deep brown irises will take down your entire body, burning the image into his brain before he has his way with you.

He takes his time with you, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of your body as he undresses you- memorizing the feel, and taste of you it like it’s the back of his own hand.

He pays special attention to the spots that rile you up- the spots that have your pretty eyes rolling into the back of your head. He’d be lying if the sight didn’t make his cock twitch every time.

He’ll never let you cum around his cock first- oh no. He wants, no needs for you to come undone around his fingers, or his tongue before he’ll put his cock anywhere near that tight little hole of yours.

He’ll lap at you like a man starved, addicted to the sheer taste of you- never not leaving you a moaning mess beneath his tongue. You’re his to savor, and he’ll gladly fucking do it every time.

His eyes will never leave yours as he thrusts himself into you. He needs to watch what your reactions. It’s a fucking drug and one he’s beyond addicted to. He’ll groan, moan, whimper whatever sound he can muster at the time to let you know JUST how much he enjoys your wet hole clenching around him.

He’ll always make sure you cum first. He’s a man of great stamina and will be damned if his baby doesn’t cum around him first. The sight of you reaching your release always being what sends him over the edge.

And he’s the KING of aftercare. Always massaging your sore limbs, kissing the forming bruises that now litter your skin, and holding you closely as you drift off to a peaceful slumber.

Simon will never tell you this, but at times when the man’s feelings particularly feral, after you’re asleep he’ll lean down, his face close to your hole as he watches your combined juices leaking out of you.

To him, you deserve to be worshipped. You are the love of his life, his muse, his holy fucking grail, and you deserve to be treated as so. And if that means getting on his knees for you and making you come undone in every way possible- goddamn will he do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: apologies for the spam posts the last few days. cod has once again engulfed my brain.

[tryingtoremembermyname]

it’s me. i’m bitches.

[bonkchai]

“Cheers, ya slag.”

[emmster]

Couple of painting studies based off of screenshots from mw2 and mw3 of Ghost because his eyes are pretty

[pondsblog]

Things you've noticed Simon Riley Does...

CW: - ; no use on y/n

Simon Riley reads a lot, but he does it so well...? He lays propped up on the couch bare arms spread wide over the armrest and back of the navy couch. In his hand is a book -he is almost done you'd notice - but his bare skin is so much better. His skin is pale, freckles, scars, and tattoos are like art.

Simon Riley is expressive, his whole face shows his emotion from His ear where he blushes bright pink to the wrinkles are clearer with how he scrunches his brows. You call his name and get a low rumbly 'hmm'. His eyes flick to you, full of love. His tongue runs over his lips so much his lips stay soft and pink. If he sees you staring he shoots you a smile, it's boyish yet calm.

Simon Riley talks a lot in the shower. He rumbles about the restaurant's food or whatever bothered him about the said restaurant. Or mumble about how the supermarket didn't have his favorite bread. All while you are doing you're nightly routine; you hear all about his recent book or other projects he completed, his favorite is critiquing a book to the very commas.

<3

[lethalchiralium]

No More | [2] | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: WOW. i did not expect that to blow up as hard as it did. thank you so much!! [this seriously might become a series. we’ll see.] [also, that means you’re getting a backstory. a very… need for speed backstory ;)] i really do think this is shitty but that’s all part of the plan baby!

warnings: cussing, alcohol, simon drinks to forget but he always remembers, non-sexual nudity, mentions of genocide, mentions of trauma, mentions of past careers, mentions of planes, mentions of crashing, mentions of american citizenship (you don’t have to be from there if you don’t want to be! i live there and i don’t want to be here! it’s just important from a certain aspect of your previous career.) simon is also a lot more lovey when he’s drunk.

summary: He’s convinced he should leave. He’s convinced himself that you are better off without him, better alone than being hurt by a shell of a man like him. He barely got a foot out of the door before he changed his mind.

part one here! | SERIES MASTERLIST

He had more bourbon in the past two months than he’s ever had in his entire life. The sickly sweet pull and the burn down his throat was a comforting pain as agony ripped through his heart. He sat alone in your shared apartment, a dim lamp being the only light in the entire space. He hadn’t gotten sick of the bourbon like he usually does, he couldn’t move it from the coffee table - he had sat forwards, arms resting on his knees and hands dug into his hair.

He was bone tired. He hadn’t slept in two days; it was a normal occurrence now that you had gone on that mission. He had to take leave so he didn’t rip Price’s throat out for not letting him go with you. The ache in his head still hadn’t gone away with the aspirin he took a few hours ago and the full bottle of his best bourbon down the hatch. The night wasn’t flying by like it did last night, he could hear the clock on the wall tick as he wallowed in his own misery.

Sometimes it took him weeks to bring up the scalpel and separate Ghost and Simon, divide the halves into quarters and dissect what actions could have been better performed to produce a better outcome - essentially, what he did to fuck up the one good thing he had going for him, and how he could fix it. He took your words to heart, and he was taking a very long time to stew over everything he could have done that would’ve have made him look like he didn’t trust you. Simon trusted you with every fiber of his being, he loved you more than that. He knew you were an amazing fighter, your fire to help those in need could never be extinguished.

He realized later rather than sooner that Ghost was why you didn’t trust him - Ghost was protecting the person Simon loves the most. And maybe, that included when you were home too. Keeping Simon locked away so he didn’t get hurt, so Simon didn’t get hurt by you.

If he had half a bottle less, he would’ve gone up to bed - but the room felt suffocating without you. He couldn’t lay in a bed that smelled like you if it became one of the last things he had of you in case you were killed, so he had cat napped on the couch for the past nine weeks. If he had a bottle less, he wouldn’t have thought about how his absence wouldn’t hurt you as much as Ghost does - if he had the £348 he spent on alcohol back, he wouldn’t have thought how this place felt like your home. Never his, he also categorized it underneath Ghost’s half - keeping his love at arms length so his self-destruction doesn’t hurt you.

He was drunk. Piss drunk, since he had never gave himself time to sleep off the bourbon. Ghost was cracked in the middle, and Simon was punching out holes in Ghost’s façade. Ghost never allowed Simon to feel, never allowed him to connect with anyone - a self-defense mechanism. But now? Ghost was almost gone, and he felt like himself now. And God, did it hurt.

How could he have done this? How could have pushed you away so far that your rope was dwindling by a thread, how could he have hurt the one thing that made him begin to unlock the cage around his freezing cold heart? He felt it in his chest, the raw burn and tug of desperation - he knew that he had to cut the thread.

He didn’t want to, he would give anything to not let you go - but Simon couldn’t let you keep getting damaged by his defense measures.

If he had no alcohol in his system, he wouldn’t have gotten up like he did. He wouldn’t have waltzed to the guest room, messily packed his duffle and brought it to the living room. He wouldn’t have grabbed a pen and an old pad of paper. And he definitely wouldn’t have written the note he was writing now.

He folded the note, lifting up the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table and setting it down on the table, putting the bottle on the corner to hold the note down. His hand grabbed his duffle and he stood and he made his way to the front door. He slipped on his boots, only caring enough to tuck the laces into his socks before Simon went to open the door. He took the time to turn around, gazing at the dim apartment that smelled like you, that held all of your important belongings. It was the place that cradled you when you were down, the place he kept falling for you, the place he would kneel to the kiss the ground you walked on.

This was the place he loved you.

Honestly, in the back of his mind, he knew his sober ass would walk home after a week.

Before he could open the door, the lock turned and the door burst open - he threw his duffle into the adjacent kitchen and was about to fight. That was before he saw you.

Dirt and blood caked on your face, your duffle hanging from your hand, your hoodie tattered and your neck bruised - and he watched as the tears raced down your face. He could barely even begin to speak when you flung your duffle inside and dove into his chest, arms wrapped around his chest so hard, he thought you would pop his lungs.

“Baby, baby, hey,” He cooed, his hand immediately held your head against his chest - he pulled you both out of the way so he could close the door and lock it, now he was immediately sobered up. Your sobs were loud now, your hands gripped onto the back of his shirt so hard he was convinced it would rip.

He tried to pull you away but you refused, begging, “Please, pl-please don’t let me go.”

“Where’s Cerby?” He spoke gently, keeping his hand on the back of your head, feeling dirt crusted into your scalp. You must have come straight here.

“With K-Keegs.” You mumbled, muffled by his thin t-shirt with a faded band logo on it. He sighed, sad that his dog wouldn’t be home for a few days but he let the feeling go. All he needed to focus on was you, and definitely not his foolish actions from literally three minutes prior.

He hummed then, his free hand moved to underneath your thigh - he pulled it up so you would get the hint, which you did. Your arms moved from around his chest to around his neck and you jumped into his arms, caging your legs around his large waist as best you could. Both of his hands held the back of your thighs, he glanced to the kitchen and made sure both of the duffles were there and unharmed. They were, so he turned around and walked down the hallway to the bedroom he hadn’t used in since the last time you were home. He pushed the door open, turning on the warm light before walking into the ensuite bathroom.

He flicked on the light before moving to sit on the side of the bathtub, it creaked under your combined weight - you were sat firmly on his lap and his hands went to your back and head, cradling you.

“I’m gonna start a bath for you, love.” He spoke, his voice wavering with uncertainty as your arms wrapped tighter around his masked neck.

“No, no, please, don’t let go.” The tumble of words from your mouth made his grip on you tighter. He couldn’t imagine what happened, he didn’t want to - he thanked God that he decided to drink that entire bottle of bourbon a couple of hours ago. His mind was muddled, he could barely get any thought out of what could’ve happened. All he wanted to do now was help you.

He kissed the top of your head through his mask, dismissing the feeling of cloth against his lips and he gently pulled your head back, he gazed into your red-rimmed eyes. He whispered your name like a prayer, as if you were an angel - which you were to him. Even covered head to toe in dirt, blood, and grime, he would still be able to see your halo through any darkness. “Let me help, love. Let me help you feel better, then I won’t let you go for as long as you want.”

“I can’t.” The voice he heard was almost unrecognizable, he had never heard you sound so small. “I can’t, I can’t.”

He sighed, moving forwards to press the skull to your forehead - something he did when he knew you needed it. You physically relaxed when he did it, your back bent into his hand as you pushed every single ounce of weight onto him. His fingertips pressed into your spine, dragging up and down it from above your shitty old hoodie. He stayed like that for a few minutes, letting you cry against his mask. He gave you a bit of time before he pulled up your hoodie, you obliged and let him pull it over your head. You were just in your dirty black sports bra, and now he got a good look at you.

He felt bile rise in his throat. Your entire chest was spray painted in black bruises, he got a good look at the dark purplish handprint on your neck. He looked back up at you, your head faced to the side as you cried, ashamed.

“Oh, my love,” His hand returned to the back of your head, cradling it as he gazed at you. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You quickly shook your head, tears removing most of the grime on your cheeks. Your arms were now at your side, fiddling with the hem of his athletic shorts while you let out a broken sigh. His hands moved to lift you off of his lap, one hand didn’t stop touching you while he pulled off your boots, tossing them to the side before tugging off your holed socks. He made a mental reminder to buy you new socks at the base shop while he placed a hand on your back, guiding you with him as he moved to turn the faucet on. He turned it all the way up then back a little, the temperature you liked. He plugged the drain and put his hand underneath the flow of water, waiting for it to turn almost hot - normally, he would’ve made it extremely hot, you had always said you thought it was like being boiled like a lobster. But, he didn’t want to agitate your injuries. His hand moved from your back and didn’t break skin contact when he took your hand, still looking away from you but he still held your hand gently.

“You’re warm.” You mumbled, moving his hand up to settle on your cheek.

“I know, love.” He answered, turning back to you. His hand slipped from your face and down your side to your belt loops, undoing the buttons and zipper then pulling down your pants. He took your hands as you stepped out of your pants, watched as you kicked them behind you and he observed new pink scars, healed but still fresh. Surrounding them were black bruises, identical to the ones on your chest. He heard your whimpers of pain when you stood back up, his hand ghosted your side as he gazed at it, seeing identical black bruises again. Even if he felt sober, he knew that the adrenaline from you showing up injured would wear off and he would become sloppy. He didn’t hurry, he took his time as he pulled down the boxers you stole from him and toss them away. His hands found the bottom of your sports bra, your wince made him pause and look at your face again.

Fat tears still rolled down your cheeks, silent sobs left you as you kept your eyes closed. Your hands stayed at your side until he murmured, “Raise your arms please.” You did as you were told, he tugged it off quickly but not as painlessly as he wanted. You let out a loud wheeze that echoed throughout the bathroom, he placed his hand on your side again, his presence close to you as he leaned down and shut off the water. “‘m gonna pick you up, love.”

“Okay.”

He did as he had said, gently swooping you into his arms and placing you in the warm water that reached up to your collarbone. Your eyes opened again when he retreated from the tub, your gaze watched as he pulled out a towel from the closet and began to rummage through it.

“I almost died.”

Simon visibly froze as you turned back, your gaze now staring at the light above the tub. He peered around the door, hand clutching a washcloth with a pain he couldn’t soberly place. “Do…Do you want to tell me?”

You didn’t respond. He brought all of the materials to the side of the tub, he gently pet your head.

Simon, drunk as hell, bathed you with care. He didn’t speak a word and neither did you, you stared at the wall the whole time except when he tried to wash your hair. You let him move you under the faucet, rinse your hair for five minutes because he couldn’t tell if the soap was gone yet, let him dry you with a towel and dress you in new clothes.

You could barely keep your eyes open when he carried you to bed, tucking you in before he did himself. He watched as you curled into a ball, facing him and keeping your eyes on the sheets, your hand drew circles beside your face. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, drowning the room in darkness and settled back onto the bed, watching you with bated breath.

“Got trapped in a burning truck.” Your voice almost spooked him, his eyebrows furrowed. You just stared at the gray sheets. “RPG’d the ground in front of us and flipped it. Knocked Logan and Keegs out. Hesh got launched from the driver’s windshield. Had to drag them out and triage them in an abandoned warehouse while trying to fight off the enemy. Got captured for a week. Keegs saved me.” You sniffled a little, your hand reached for his - he instantly took it. He squeezed your hand. “Had bad flashbacks. It had been a while since I’ve got stuck under burning metal and tortured. S’why I was crying.”

“How’re the boys?”

“Watchin’ Cerby and all as stubborn as always. All fine.” You mumbled, pressing his rough skin to your chapped lips.

A deafening silence settled then, your thumb threaded over the back of his hand while he felt your breath graze it. He began to feel drowsy, the slow turn-table of dizziness was coming back from earlier and all he wanted to do was place his head in your neck and just breathe. He needed you like he needed oxygen, you touch him and he felt like it was the first breath he’s ever taken.

“Sleep, baby.” He murmured, sliding down from his sitting position, underneath the soft duvet. He moved closer to you, settling his head so that he laid face to face with you. He could barely make out your nose and cheeks in the dim moonlight, but he could see the glisten of your eyes as they gazed at his.

“I haven’t had a PTSD episode since I left the US Naval Aviation division.” The voice he heard sounded nothing like what you normally do - it was small. Broken. Damaged. An echo of you.

He furrowed his brows, he thought he knew everything about you. Both your dad and childhood best friend were pilots, but you never specified what kind - and apparently neglected to tell him that you were one too. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a pilot?”

You sniffled, squeezing his hand and ignored his question. “Got shot down over enemy territory. Crash landed and had to pry my legs from my jet as the fire burned.” The sensation of his hand being squeezed tighter made his dizzy mind think that you were angry - but in reality, the memory of burning metal against your hands made you feel scared. You wanted to pull him closer, to have him shield you from your memories. Yet you kept talking, even if you recognized the hurt twang in his voice. “Had to fend for myself in an abandoned city just over the border in Ukraine. Stayed in that town for three weeks ‘til Special Forces came and found me.” You pulled his arm to your chest, pressing his hand into your cheek. “S’where I met Price. Almost shot him too, thought he was an enemy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the flashbacks?” His voice was softer then, he pressed his warm palm down to your jaw. “I could’ve helped you, my love.”

“‘Cause it’s not important now.” You murmured, both of your hands cradled his. “Wasn’t even s’posed to stay with 141, meant to go back to Miramar. Meant to get back in the air.” You took a quiet breath. “I fell for you and everything I knew went up in smoke.”

His heart dropped to the floor. It thumped against it, still pumping blood but it hurt in his chest.

“If I hadn’t given it up, I wouldn’t have you.”

“I would give up anything for you.” He whispered. “Don’t give up anything for me, darling. You deserve everything you have.”

“That means I deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me.” He immediately answered, his other hand went to settle on the duvet, tugging it up more. “You don’t deserve my problems, how fucked up I am.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.” He settled his hand on your side, feeling you breathe underneath his fingertips. “I’ve hurt you, not on purpose but I still did it.” His thumb circled on the duvet, you barely felt it as his voice became quieter. “You really hurt me when you walked away.”

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered, he couldn’t bear to hear you start to cry again. He paused, hand coming from your hip to completely take off his mask - something he had never done in your presence before. He tossed the mask away onto the floor as he moved forwards, placing his lips against your moonlight dusted cheek.

“I deserved it.” He answered, settling back and pulling your hands into his chest. “Made me think for a while.”

“You’re drunk.” A statement he didn’t deny, he pulled your hands upwards to his collarbone.

“I am.”

“Because of me?”

“Because I hurt you.” He answered, now pulling your hands to settle on his cheeks. “I want you to feel that I trust you, because I do.” He began to move your hands upwards, his eyes fluttered closed as your fingertips traced his warm face, tracing his eyebrows and dancing over his eyelids.

“Simon, you don’t have to let me do this.” Your hands paused, his own grip settled on your wrists. “I want you to be sober, you’ll be mad at me tomorrow.”

He scoffed, moving his head to kiss one of your palms, keeping his eyes closed as he whispered, “I could never be mad at you. Frustrated or upset? Yes, but angry? No.” He gently rubbed your arms, hands moving to settle on your own cheeks. “I’ve decided that you need to really know how much I trust you. How much faith I have in you. How proud I am of you.”

“You hurt me for so long.” Your voice cracked so heavily, fingertips grazing his forehead and memorizing his nose, coming down to trace his lips you knew well.

“I want to fix it.” His lips kissed your palm again, eyes opening to gaze at your dimly lit face. “Give me a chance.”

“I think this is most comfortable you’ve ever been to talk about things like this.” You remarked, hands stopping on his jaw, cradling it. “I want you to show me how much you trust me, but when you’re sober.”

He nodded in return, moving forwards to place a slow kiss on your lips. His hands moved to settle on the side of your head, pulling you forward just a little. When he broke the kiss, he placed another on the tip of your nose. “You’ll know how much I treasure you until the end of time.”

“Okay.”

“Just don’t leave me like that ever again.” His voice was low, one hand going to trace down your body. “Ever.”

You nodded as you moved closer to him, chest to chest. He removed his other hand from your cheek and slid his arm under his pillow.

“Sleep, love. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

_______________

comment for part 3! (part three here!!)

—————————

tag list:

(i was not able to tag some - i apologize!)

@luhvbot @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @ladystarfishnut @chris3tom2pau1rdj @kat-nee @efsa-lks @angelsquid @marytvirgin @medivalpersephone @ramadiiiisme @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @abbiesxox @lockleywife @nicomactavish @nose235678 @lumpypoll @multi-fandomlovers-world @holyfeck @thriving-n-jiving @kgive @simonsdoll @crazyfandomist @ryunniez

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[konigceo]

fake dating has me in a chokehold like!!

simon insists that he's pulling you into his arms when you two are at a bar to make sure your relationship looks legitimate, but what you don't know is he noticed a couple of lingering stares from drunken patrons towards you. he knows he shouldn't feel jealous, he knows that this is a temporary arrangement. he knows this was to reassure your parents' worries of you not having a boyfriend.

yet he feels a burning pain when he reminds himself that it'll all be over. truth is, he doesn't want it to end. even if it's all a façade, he truly adores the shy look on your face when he gives you a small peck on the cheek, the warmth of your hand on his, the slightly too-long hugs he gives you at the front of your doorstep. how could he possibly just let all this go?

you wondered how long it would take for him to notice. simon is a naturally sharp guy, so you figured he'd eventually find out your little lie. your parents couldn't care less about your love life. somehow, lying about dating simon was easier than admitting your feelings for him.

sometimes you wonder in your bed, wonder about how simon would react to your lie. 'he'd be repulsed,' you thought. 'he was reluctant to even go along with this, and now he knows you lied to him?' your thoughts ate away at your mind, unaware that simon had the exact same worries.

tl;dr i love fake lovers to lovers !!!!!! the angst ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

[wehaveimagineshere]

could i request task force 141 + könig always admiring their s/o’s photo when they’re feeling lonely and starting to miss them pls

This is so cute omg. I had so much fun writing this 💕💕

Also reader is AFAB since it was not specified otherwise but only mentioned in Price’s and König’s

Also TW mentions of children but only in König’s

Price

• John would be sitting at his desk, stressed from trying to come up with infiltration plans for the safe house their target is staying at. To his left, something caught his eye. Sitting on his desk was a small framed picture

• It’s of your wedding day. You’re in your beautiful wedding dress that took you weeks to find because you wanted a specific look and he is in a traditional black tux. He had just started growing out his beard when you got married

• You were high school sweethearts. You met freshman year and you both immediately fell in love with each other

• In the photo you’re staring lovingly into each other’s eyes while having your first dance as husband and wife

• It was the happiest day of his life so far and he rubs his thumb across your face as he fondly recalls the memory

• It’s been two months since he left on mission. He misses you so much and he can’t wait to come home and hold you on his arms again

Ghost

• It would one of those sleepless nights where Simon really realizes that he misses you sleeping next to him. Your body heat and comfort always lulling him to sleep

• But you’re currently on another mission right now and left well before his ended. He hasn’t seen you in 3 months

• He switches on the light and gets up to pull out a box from underneath his bed which has several pictures of you together over the years and letters you’ve written him. He pulls out his favorite picture which was sitting on top

• He’s maskless in the picture and you’re arm in arm and both smiling brightly at the camera. It’s when you’re both home after a lengthy mission and taking a well deserved break

• He stares at it for what feels like hours. He misses you so much. He hasn’t received a letter or even a phone call in a few days and he’s praying that you’re okay. He falls asleep with the photo clutched to his chest

• You come back to back to base a few hours later and smile at the sight. You keep glancing at him to make sure you don’t wake up as you get undressed and join him in bed where he subconsciously pulls you in and hugs you tight

Soap

• Johnny will be on the plane after he just hugged and kissed you goodbye when he already starts missing you

• It’s only been about two hours since the plane took off. Since he saw you waving from the tarmac with tears in both of your eyes

• There’s no service in the air to message you so he resorts to looking at your photos. He taps on his phone and sees a picture you took together as his lock screen. He smiles to himself as he opens the Photos app

• He has an album of just pictures of you and him together over the years. Some that he’s taken in secret. With you just doing everyday tasks or taking a nap on the couch

• He’s most favorite being the family photo you took with him and his family one Christmas a few years back. His family absolutely adored you. His mom has even jokingly told him that she likes you better than him, which made him laugh and feel so much pride in his heart

• He loved you so much. As he stares at the picture he feels a sharp pang in his chest. These next few months are going to be hell. But he knows that you’re being well taken care of by the people he loves most

Gaz

• You and Kyle were both recruited into 141 by Price but unfortunately, you’re always separated. He with Price and you with Ghost

• He would be resting at a safe house waiting for Price’s next orders when he pulls out a picture that was hidden in a pocket on the inside of his jacket by his heart

• It’s a picture of the both of you decked out in complete military uniforms not too long after you joined 141. He remembers how excited you both were to be part of something so important to not only the country, but the world

• In the picture it’s just the two of you, but you can see some of 141 in the background. He has his arm slung over your shoulder and you’re throwing up your signature peace sign. Both of you so giddy and excited for the future

• He feels his eyes start to burn a bit while looking at your face. The memory is bittersweet. You both thought that you would constantly be teamed up together but he’s lucky if he gets to see you once every 2 months

• When Price walks in on him looking at the picture, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Sergeant. But he tells him that he has good news, it’s time to go home. And you’re there waiting for him

König

• König retired from the military early. A few years after you had gotten together. He realized that he couldn’t stay away from you for long periods of time or he’d get extremely antsy and worried about your safety without him there. You were so beautiful and some people would take it too far

• Shortly after he retired you got married and bought a cottage together in a quiet village in Austria. Surrounded by beautiful mountains and a crystal clear lake

• You were out with family you hadn’t seen in a long time with your 3 children and he decided to stay home and clean the house a bit when he stumbles across an old photo album you had put together

• In it was a timeline of your relationship. The picture he focuses on was of your first date. He wore a surgical mask and all black, trying to hide his identity since he wasn’t comfortable showing strangers who he was in fear someone would somehow recognize him

• Then König turns his eyes to look at you standing next to him. You look bright and lively. You’re wearing a baby pink dress with the brightest smile on your face. The stark opposite of him. He remembers that date fondly. It’s where you had your first kiss

• He has never felt so much love in his life like how he feels for you and the 3 beautiful children you gifted him. He wonders how you put up with him all these years. But he’s so glad you did

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Simon admitted, a deep crimson tinting his cheeks. He looked down at you, and felt his heart stammer in his chest.

You looked so beautiful beneath him. Freed from any clothes, Simon was finally able to lay his eyes on all of you, and he found himself falling in love with each and every inch of you. You were perfect.

“ I haven’t either.” You spoke, your tone slightly nervous. “But I’m ready, I want this with you.”

Simon gave you a warm smile, before slotting his lips against yours. As his mouth molded against yours, you let out a sigh against him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lowered himself down onto you.

Simon let eyes drift downwards, his arms on either side of your head, watching as he slowly sank his length inside of you. A shaky breath escaped his lips, as he felt just how tight you were around him. How perfectly snug you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, you’re tight.” Simon groaned, letting his forehead fall against yours. “Fuckin’ made for me.”

You let out a soft whimper in reply, your eyes squeezing shut as Simon slowly bottomed out inside of you. He was by far the biggest man you’d been with, and you’d never felt so full in your life.

“Simon.” You cried out, your hands finding purchase on Simon’s shoulders, your nails digging lightly into his tanned skin.

“I know sweet girl, doing so well for me. I’ll go slow, you tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?” Simons breath hitched in his throat, his mind going numb with pleasure as you clamped down around his length.

Your moans were music to Simon’s ears, and he swore he’d never heard a sound sweeter in his life. The moans that were meant for his ears, and his alone. Moans that he was elliciting from you.

Simon had had sex plenty of times before you, but nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how perfect you felt around him, how your sweet moans had a warmth pooling in his belly, how fucking beautiful you looked underneath him.

He took it slow, his hips thrusting into yours in steady, tantalizing motions. He watched as your mouth fell agape and your eyes continued to flutter shut every time you tried to open them.

Leaning down, Simon pressed his lips against your throat, and began to place delicate kisses across the reddening skin. When you let out a groan, in that moment Simon had an overwhelming urge to mark you. To prove to others that you were his.

His teeth scraped against your skin, before sucking harshly, then running his tongue along the now bruising skin. He pulled back with a smirk, watching as the skin began to turn purple.

Simon could feel his high rapidly approaching, but he’d be damned if he let himself cum before you. He snaked one of his hands down the length of your abdomen, chuckling under his breath at your ticklish giggles. His fingers found your clit in record time, and he began to rub in small circles.

“Oh my god.” You moaned, your own hands now finding themselves threaded through Simon’s dirty brown locks. “Simon.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips nearly had Simon cumming right on the spot, but he used every ounce of self restraint he had to hold off his impending high.

His fingers quickened their pace, rubbing vigorously at your bundle of nerves causing you to cry out, and tug at Simon’s hair. Your legs began to shake around Simon’s waist, and your head fell back against the pillow as your orgasm began to race through you.

“That’s it sweet girl, cum for me.” Simon cooed, peppering soft kisses just below your ear. “Such a good girl for me.”

Your walls clenched around Simon’s length, causing his hips to stutter slightly, his thrusts now sloppy as he desperately chased his own high.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon groaned, throwing his head into the nape of your neck, biting softly at the flesh there. “Where, sweetheart?”

“Inside, I’m safe.” You panted breathlessly, your hands still firmly gripping his hair as Simon rode out his orgasm. His hands balled the sheets next to your head as he groaned into your neck, his cock spilling its seed inside of you.

It took him a moment to compose himself, before pulling his cock out of you slowly, causing both of you to gasp at the loss of contact.

He gently laid next to you, his hand rubbing at your arm soothingly, before placing a kiss to your forehead. A comfortable silence filling the room as Simon smiled warmly at you.

The two of you laid like that for some time, simply staring at one another with soft smiles while attempting to catch your breaths.

“Stay the night?” You asked, biting your lower lip. You gave Simon a hopeful look, not wanting him to leave.

Simon nodded, his smile widening as he pressed a kiss to your nose. “I was kind of hoping you’d ask that.”

[tryingtoremembermyname]

i have an unhealthy obsession

[bonkchai]

90% of the time he looks high as shit and idk why but it lowkey makes me angry like stop looking chill like that

[emmster]

Cuties (without Price)

[k4marina]

— celebration || s.r

synopsis: after another mission you and the 141 head to the local pub to celebrate another success however, simon has another idea of "celebrating"

warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), pub/drinking, light fingering idek if you’d call it that, hair pulling, can u even call is porn w/ plot?? UNEDITED lmk what else i missed

a/n: i had a whole thing written but then i scrapped it and wrote this instead. also this is the first time i’ve written smut sooo…. pls be nice. i promise i’ll get better

simon”ghost”riley x fem!reader

it’s dingy and cramped in the bathroom, the room lit up by a singular red bulb in the corner of the room, setting the ‘mood’ for the little room.

noise from the outside comes in muffled, like you’re underwater, everything blending into one another: the music, glasses clattering on the bartop, drunk and slurred speech.

and while it muffles the outside world, it amplifies what’s goin on inside two fold.

the wet sounds of you two kissing fill up the empty space, simon occasionally groaning, enjoying your lips on his own.

“down,” his hands work his belt while you obediently do as told, ever the good soldier you are. he pulls himself out, already hard. his tip and angry red and glistening with precum. he doesn’t have to tell you anything as you open your mouth, sliding his throbbing cock into your mouth.

his hand comes down to hold the back of your head, bunching up some hair into a makeshift ponytail, gently rocking his hips back and forth, letting you get used to the weight of him.

he picks up the pace, fucking himself into your mouth.

“that’s it.” his voice sends shivers down your spine and feeds into the ache between your thighs. “good girl, takin’ my cock so well in that needy mouth of yours.”

he’s ruthless, not caring if your gagging or not. he lets out a loud groan, brining our face in so your face was buried into his pelvic bone. his musk filling your nose, before your pulled back and allowed to breath again.

simon effortlessly pick you up, pulling down your pants and panties in one go. his fingers swipe down your folds and you let out a whimper.

“fuckin’ hell..” he groans. “haven’t even touched ya’ and your already drippin’ wet.”

he turns you around, chest planted onto the sink, your hand coming up to support yourself. simon lazily drags the tip of his cock up and down your wet folds. your slick makes it easy for him to slip in, slowly and painfully filling you in.

the airs almost knocked out of you as he bottoms out with a growl. he stays put, letting the both of you adjust to each other.

“fuck,” his hands grip onto your waist as a way to ground himself. “you’re so fucking tight, sweet girl.” he gently begins to rock his hips back and forth, lazily thrusting into you but enough that your moaning.

he’s so big that you can’t help but to feel him everywhere. simon picks up the pace and you drop your head down at the stimulation.

“nah-ah, can’t have you looking away now can we?” his hand comes up, pulling yours back up by the hair so your eyes can meet in the mirror.

the red light casted down his already tall stature, extenuating his features and painting his skin in a nice red. his eyes looked dark thanks to the lighting, reminding you of his skill plated mask and you could only imagine what it would be like being fucked by him in his gear.

simons hips snap against your ass, the lewd sound of skin slapping filling the small room. he fuck you at a brutal pace, pushing you closer to your high.

“fuck!.. ah.. simon, i’m close.” you barely were able to form a coherent sentence, feeling the familiar feeling of a coil forming in your gut, getting ready to snap.

one of simons hands slips from your hip and between your legs, rubbing fast circles onto your clit.

“thank it, baby,” his voice husky. “cum for me, love. wanna cum with you.”

his fingers continued rubbing your clit until you reached your high, your vision going white for a split second. your cunt fluttered and clenched around him sending him over his edge. with one last thrust he buried himself deep into you, hot ropes of cum filling you up to the brim.

you both panted, catching your breath. simon leaned over, softly leaning his chest to your back, giving your shoulder and neck light kisses. his grip on your hair and hip loosened.

once you’d caught your breath he softly pulling out of you with a groan. his cum slowly dribbled out of your sore cunt and he tucked himself back into his pants before helping you, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead.

once you’d fixed yourself in the mirror you two snuck back into the packed bar, grabbing a drink before going back to the table where the others were.

when you set your drink down soap and gaz gave you a shit eating grin.

“what?”

they looked at each other and then gaz turned back to you, “you’re glowing.”

your face turned red and you looked away, clearly flustered. the two laughed at your reaction.

“shut up,” you managed. “it’s hot.”

“oh i’m sure it was.. hot.” soap cackled.

before you could reply you felt a presence behind you.

“that’s enough mctavish.”

safe to say you weren’t safe from soap and gaz’s teasing for the remaining week.

i know i know i’m a bad person for not posting this sooner but i rewrote this like ten times bc i didn’t like it.

anywayz i’m working on requests rn so send some if you want. once i’m finished with that i have an idea for a series coming up so stay tuned ig.

[v4mpgutz]

Labyrinth, Simon "Ghost" Riley [ ONESHOT ]

— simon refuses to be left in anyone else's care but yours after he gets a stab wound to the gut :)))

simon "ghost" riley x nurse reader

note: this does use she/her pronouns !! also this is pretty much not proof-read at all so... yeah!

warnings ! — descriptive mentions of wounds + blood, reader stitches up a gash, petname (dove like once whoops)

you were tending to another soldier as per usual, administering pain killers and putting a cold cloth on his head to keep a fever down. you checked the soldier's heartbeat one more time before you nodded in satisfaction.

as you walked out of the curtains that separated the soldier's tiny room from the hallway, you heard a commotion near the entrance.

furrowing your brows in confusion, you walked towards where the noise was and heard a male medic speaking to a familiar voice.

"i told you already, sir!" the medic exclaimed, clearly growing irritated. "she's busy with another patient. you'll have to be taken care of by someone else."

you rounded the corner and saw simon standing there arguing with the medic. he was hunched over a little and clutching his lower stomach, still in his ops gear and mask.

"i'm not seein' anybody else, for fucks sake! it's her or no one!" he sneered at the medic who just rolled his eyes.

the medic turned around and saw you, his eyes widening as he beckoned you over. "thank goodness! lieutenant riley has been asking for you."

you blinked slowly and turned to look at simon, your eyes holding concern as you looked up and down his figure. blood was seeping through his fingers where his shirt was slightly rolled up just before the waistline of his pants.

"lieutenant, you're bleeding out! you should've got someone to see you," you scolded before grabbing his arm and pulling him towards an empty room.

he winced and you saw him roll his eyes behind his mask. "everyone else in this bloody place is incompetent." he scoffed before lowering his voice to a whisper, "and besides... i don't trust anyone else."

you chewed your bottom lip anxiously and sighed, reaching for a pair of medical scissors.

"okay," you mumbled. "move your fingers, i have to cut your shirt."

he obeyed your order and moved his hand away, he was hoping you wouldn't notice but it was definitely shaking. he was growing slightly clammy due to the blood loss as well.

you cut his shirt and peeled it back, examining the wound as your tongue poked your cheek. you hummed, dabbing a wet cloth against the skin around it to rid it of blood. you were quick to apologise when simon let out a wince and a mumbled 'fuck!'

"well, ghost—"

"simon." he corrected as he averted his eyes. "please, just... call me simon."

you smiled softly and nodded.

"well, simon, you're definitely going to need stitches." you told him, pinching his skin together to try and stop the blood from flowing out any more.

"bloody fuckin' hell.." he mumbled, looking down at you as you crouched slightly next to the bed. "get it over with then," he nodded slowly.

you seemed unsure for a moment as you readied the needle and thread.

"are you sure? you don't want lidocaine?" you asked him, hesitant to stitch the wound up without some sort of numbing agent.

"what the fuck is lidocaine?" he asked, his brows creased underneath his mask.

you laughed and showed him the needle, the shiny point reflecting light off of it dramatically. you watched simon swallow as he stared wide-eyed at the needle.

"it's a local anaesthetic," you explained. "it targets the nerves where injected to numb them in preparation for specific procedures."

he nodded with a nervous cough and shook his head, "i'm fine. i'm a soldier, i've suffered worse pain than a couple stitches."

you shrugged and put the anaesthetic back down on the medical cart, picking up the needle and thread. you cleaned the wound first, making sure there wasn't any blood where you needed to poke the needle through the skin.

you pinched the skin together and steadied the needle, looking up at ghost for approval; he nodded.

you pushed the needle through the first bit of skin, being as gentle as you could. you paused when you heard the man above you yelp — actually yelp — at the feeling.

"you okay, simon?" you asked with a frown and he let out a shaky breath and a grunt.

"just peachy."

you wanted to laugh but you held your tongue because you knew how bad stitches hurt — especially without an anaesthetic.

it took you about ten minutes to fully stitch the wound, dabbing away any excess blood when you were finished. you had him lift his hips a little, one hand supporting him in doing so as you bandaged up his waist.

"okay," you nodded with a soft smile. "all done. now, you will need to replace the bandages every three hours or so. i'm sure you're capable of doing that yourself but if you need help just come and see me."

simon looked you directly in the eyes as you rose from your position next to the bed.

"thanks, dove. it's much appreciated."

you felt heat rush to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, giggling nervously and turning around to pretend to write something on a clipboard.

"just— just doing my job, lieutenant!"

you turned around and watched as he got up, glancing back at you one last time with a wave as he walked back towards the entrance of the infirmary.

oh no, you're falling in love again.

giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair

@konigceo THIS ONE IS FOR U !! 🫵

[lethalchiralium]

Hi!! Can I request ghost one shot abt the reader having an abusive relationship (without ghost knowing he has a secret crush on her or smt), and when they are on a mission she tries to hide the bruises by saying that her bf is just drunk...thank u have a nice day!!

Innocent | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: i do not condone domestic abuse - or any abuse at all. If you are in a situation like this, you are not alone. There are a lot of resources that could help you get out. Please stay safe.

a/n: sorry if it sucks, it took me a while to even finish this.

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I’M SERIOUS. cussing, mentions of violence, injury, bruising, domestic abuse that involves mental and emotional manipulation, simon just wants to help, he is crushing but also wants to kill the man who touches you.

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It was the dead of night on the second day of the mission, Artemis laid in prone position with her sniper dug into her shoulder. It was swelteringly hot, even with the moon rising - she took another quick glance in her scope and deemed the area clear before sitting up. She sighed out the dormant breath, stretching her arms outwards before pulling off her short sleeve to gaze at the long sleeve underneath it.

She looked over her shoulders, making sure the rooftop was empty before pulling back the tan sleeves, gazing at the brownish-black bruises in the shape of handprints that littered her forearms near her elbows. Her fingers barely grazed the skin, staring at the vicious outlines. The ice had done nothing to help them go away and she couldn’t ice them for that long anyway, she was gone in a mission six hours later. That’s why she found herself on the rooftop on watch, questioning why her boyfriend kept doing it if he loved her.

She pulled her sleeves back down, nails found her teeth as she stared out into the treeline. It had been quiet for the past four hours, no one had even dared to venture up to the roof to talk to her - she was thankful for it in some aspect. Gave her time to contemplate, time to just breathe. She hadn’t been relaxed since… well… before this stuff had started with her boyfriend.

She was convinced that he didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t, he couldn’t. He bought her flowers every Tuesday she was home, he cooked dinner every chance he got, he folded laundry when she did the dishes - he was perfect to her for the past two years, except for when he got drunk. And of course, he was an incredible lightweight, so if he went past two beers, she knew she was in for it. She had finally gotten him to stop going for her throat, only grabbing at her arms and legs, punching whenever he felt like it.

She was humiliated by it. A Special Forces Sergeant being beat up by her boyfriend every time she goes home was embarrassing, but she couldn’t leave him. She loved him, she was convinced that he loved her. Wouldn’t he come to his senses one of these days?

She yelped in pain when a hand grabbed her forearm, she ripped her arm away as she looked up to see the familiar skull mask above her. The hand moved away quickly, she moved away from his feet as he spoke, “Not on your game, Sergeant.”

“Sorry, LT.” She mumbled, instinctively tugging down the sleeves even if they were grazing her wrists. She sat back a little, watching as Ghost settled on the ground beside her.

“Gettin’ tired?”

“No, sir.”

He didn’t make another sound, pulling the rifle from her stand and taking a look at it. “Did you hurt your arm earlier?”

She didn’t answer, only staring at the ground.

“Show me.”

Her head moved up so fast she thought it was going to fly off, she babbled, “What? No, it’s fine, LT, I promise-“

He grabbed Artemis’ wrist, she squawked as he pulled up her sleeve, seeing the purplish-black outline of a hand print. And he was damn sure it wasn’t her hand. She tried to pry her wrist from Ghost’s grip, but he looked up at you. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s nothing, I promise-“

“Please don’t make me order you.” His voice grew soft, the grip loosened and she pulled her arm away, eyes staring into the ground. “Was it one of the muppets back at base?”

“No.”

“One of the boys?”

“What? No, no- Ghost, please.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“No no, it was my fault, I was annoying him and he was drunk-“ She mumbled, feelings tears sting at her eyes as she pulled the sleeve down again. “He just gets drunk sometimes, that’s all.”

“Are you serious?” Ghost’s voice was low, his hand resting on his thigh. If she looked now, she could see how his hands curled into fists, notice the small difference in how his jaw was clenched so hard, he thought he might crack some teeth. But she didn’t. Kept her eyes on the floor, looking away from her lieutenant.

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not nothing, love.” He murmured, opening a hand and pressing his palm into his knee, forgoing trying to reach for her like his frozen heart wanted to. “No man who loves you should put his hands on you, ever hurt you.” He took a short breath. “Even if he’s drunk. That’s not love.”

“He loves me.” She spoke immediately after, her hands clenched into fists. “He brings me flowers, he cooks for me- he waits for me after every mission…” She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “He proposed. He doesn’t ever mean to hurt me.”

He watched her with bated breath, letting her continue.

“We’re planning on kids. He told me he’ll get sober.” She felt the tears as they raced down her cheeks and onto her cargo pants.

“Would your kids deserve that kind of love?”

She froze. It took her a moment to turn and look at Ghost, his eyes out on the tree-line.

“What?”

“No kid ever deserves a father who beats ‘em, beats their mum. Doesn’t matter if he’s sober, love,” He settled the rifle back onto the stand and looked back at her. “He’ll always get violent. It’ll boil over ‘til he gets just mad enough that he puts one or both you and your kids in the hospital, even if he’s sober. That’s not fair.”

She sat there, stunned. Tears felt cold now as they dripped from her chin.

“Speaking from experience?”

He looked away, back to the treeline before lowly saying, “My father deserves to die. Haven’t gotten the chance to put the bullet in his head for what he did to my mum and brother.”

Artemis reached her hand out, placing her hand on his fist - his head turned to her. His brown eyes were wide, but she could barely see them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t stay with that fucker. It’ll only get worse, it‘ll never get better.”

Her hand didn’t retreat; but her head lowered. “I don’t think I can leave, he always joked that he’d kill me if I tried to.”

“Sergeant, I really rather not see you in a civvy body bag ‘cause I wasn’t able to help you.”

She looked at her hand, his other hand gently settled on top of hers.

“I mean it. Let me help you, Missy.”

She looked to her lieutenant, a smile on her face. “What?”

“Your name is Artemis. Mis? Missy?” He answered, before continuing, “I’m not saying that you’re not good at aiming-“ He flustered over it but she just turned and looked up at the stars.

“Missy. I like it.” She nodded before looking back at him. “Only you can call me Missy, though. Letting Soap use it might go to his head.”

“Oh, didn’t know he had one.”

She laughed a little while Simon smirked under his mask. She looked back at the sky again, drawing the constellations in her head before she spoke, “Thank you, Ghost.”

“For what?” He asked, his eyes couldn’t move away from her, even as she kept her gaze at the sky.

“For being here for me today. And the other day.” Her voice wavered a little bit, yet she kept her gaze steady. If she could, she would’ve counted all of the stars in the sky - but she couldn’t. The tears were brimming at the side of her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can go with you.” He spoke quietly, eyes back on the tree-line. “In case he gets physical.”

He felt as her head rested on his shoulder, hand still sandwiched by his.

“I still love him.”

Ghost sighed, moving the hand from underneath hers to settle on her knee. “I know.”

“All of my future will go out the window.”

“I know, love.”

“What will I do?” Her voice wavered, more tears fell from her eyes. “Where will I go?”

“I’ll help you.�� He whispered, eyes still on the perimeter, making sure they were safe. “You can stay with me at my flat.”

“I can’t ask that of you, LT.” Her hand squeezed his knee, he patted her hand.

“I’m offerin’, you won’t be a burden. I can guarantee that no one will put your hands on you again.” Ghost spoke it into existence, promising the universe that would kill for her. He looked down to her, meeting her eyes again and he wished he could’ve moved closer, feel what her lips felt like on his like he did in his dreams. “I’ll off the bastard if you want me to.”

She gazed at him, tears slowly stopping as she whispered, “Okay.”

“If you don’t, I won’t. I’ll make sure he’ll stay away, but know that he will get a bone broken for every time he ever put his hands on you.”

“Don’t hurt him.” Her voice was small, he could almost feel her tremble.

He shook his head. “He already crossed the line, love. My fists are called payback for a reason.”

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