#g riley x reader

[magnoliabutters]

• EYES ON ME •

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x reader (they/them, 18+)

summary: captain price and station chief kate laswell assign you to your latest mission with some new and old faces. for some reason they thought it would be a good idea to have two lieutenants...

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; angsttt to smut (kinda enemies to lovers trope?); cod mw 2 campaign spoilers; reader referred to by rank (lieutenant, "lt") and call sign (aero); weapons, gore, violence; heavy petting, oral and rough sex, etc.

word count: ~4.3k

support your author: reblogs for the sexy masked menace, ghostie boy ✨

• ghost stories series •

note: hello there! i’ve desperately needed to get this ghost smut out of my head. i hope you will join me on this crazy ghost loving journey. this is also my first time writing for a gender neutral reader. please let me know your thoughts so i can make my posts more inclusive for everyone! situational dynamics are inspired by the "my personal ghost" wattpad series. highly recommend.

resource: cod character list

Your CIA briefings usually last no more than 5-minutes. Laswell informs you of the target, the place, the time, and whether it’s a capture or kill. She typically chooses the squad for you, seeing as you haven’t collected many friends along the way. Price is often involved. Your favorite captain - your thoughts, priorities, and ideals always aligned. The briefing videos are always choppy and difficult to hear, but perfect for contracts.

“Her name is Nadia Sidorov. Intel says she will be at Restaurant Ébullition in Montpellier by 21:00,” Laswell reports. “France,” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, I know you have some history but Price will make sure everything’s clear before you land,” she replies with amusement. The country leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You love France, but France most certainly does not love you. Any mission you have had there typically goes to shit and leaves you improvising. Improvising tends to lead to more trouble than needed.

Laswell continues, “You are to capture her and deal-maker for interrogation. Deal-maker has ties with AQ.” You smile, “Tying up lose ends, Kate?” A smirk grows on her face. You aren’t supposed to know much about AQ’s organization, especially anything to do with the most recent mission against them. However, you have eyes everywhere. You tend to make it habit to keep tabs on your employers. Always ready for whatever they throw your way.

“I’ll get it done,” you answer with a firm nod. You reach to end the call, as you normally would at this point. “Wait, Aero-”, Laswell adds. You pause as quickly as you are instructed. “Your squad. You’ll be running with Sergeant MacTavish,” she continues. Soap, you think to yourself. He’s a good man to have, but can be quite annoying. He never knows how to keep quiet on coms, always making the corniest of jokes to keep things light. “And Lieutenant Riley,” she hesitantly adds.

You scoff with your eyebrows pulled together. “Another lieutenant?” you ask with a monotoned voice. You try your best to keep your face deadpanned, but you are disgusted at the thought of sharing rank with someone. To have to coordinate with another squad leader? To have to compromise and hear out their thoughts on how to approach the mission. Fuck that. “Price’s orders,” she shares. With an audible growl, you confirm, “I’ll get it done.” You furiously click the button to end the call. “Fucking hell.”

Boots on the ground and you are already dreading this mission. “Aero, it’s nice to see you again,” Soap says in passing as he pats your back with a smile. God, you hated his constant chipper attitude. You nod as you watch him run off towards the Captain’s table. There Price is, another wild style to his already wild beard. As soon as he makes eye contact with you, his eyes dart towards the map he’s laid upon the table. Oh, he knows exactly how much he’s asking of you by pairing you with another LT.

You observe the other men around the table. Many of which you have not met before. This was not out of the ordinary. It appears you may have been late to the briefing, despite being an hour early. “Welcome Aero,” Price says with a nod. “Captain,” you respond as you walk up to the table. “This is Alejandro and Rudy from Mexican Special Forces,” he continues. Rudy nods as Alejandro shoots you a smile. “You know Soap and Gaz.” Soap smiles at you, while Gaz smirks with a raise of his brow. You have some history with Gaz, but you were always a big fan of the solider.

“Lieutenant Riley, aka Ghost,” Price continues with finality. Soap bites his lip as he leads your gaze over towards the tall dark mass in the corner. The first thing you see is his skulled mask. It covers all but his eyes. Those eyes that burn holes into your face. They gaze back at only your eye line and none of your other features. He leaves no social or facial cues for you to decipher. You find it incredibly annoying.

You've had experience with masked soldiers. Usually, there's not much to look at underneath the mask. Or their face is a constant reminder of who they've become so they hide it away and never address it. You wonder why Simon Riley wears his, and why it's a skull. What's underneath? What's Ghost hiding? Arms crossed over his chest displays his black tattoos spread across his forearms. Interesting that he has visible identifying features, yet continues to use a mask.

“And this is Lieutenant y/l/n, aka Aero,” Price continues, pulling you from your thoughts. You look over the squad. If Price orchestrated this assignment, everyone must be more than capable to complete the mission. You trust your life in the Captain’s hands. However, it’s difficult to transfer that trust to those you’ve just met. Unfortunately, you have to try. “Hello boys,” you greet with a nod. A grin quickly forms on Soap, Gaz , and Alejandro’s faces as they exchange looks. Ghost remains stone cold, as far as you can tell.

“Sidorov will be meeting AQ’s out-sourcing team at the breakfast. We’ll have Gaz and Aero pose in the restaurant. Ghost and Soap overwatch. Alejandro and Rudy for exfil,” Price informs the group. Like a shot of unfortunate luck, both you and Ghost speak at the same time. “Why do they want her?” and “What does she have to offer?” You both exchange looks. Yours full of disgust. Ghost's eyes as ambiguous as ever. Soap and Alejandro snicker quietly. “This’ll be fun,” Soap adds with a bump to Gaz’s shoulder.

“Why do we need two Lieutenants, Price?” Ghost asks sternly. You weren’t able to hear it before on account of you both speaking over each other, but the tall masked man sounds deep, raspy, and unbearably serious. His voice filled with British inflection. The melodic tone has peaked your interest, but not any more than the Captain’s answer to the question.

Price sighs deeply, appearing to be annoyed. “God damnit,” he mutters under his breath. “Alright, you are both experts in your own fields. We need two of our top players for this mission. You two are the lieutenants. Figure out how you will both lead the 141.” He clearly has been annoyed for some time regarding the assignment, but funny how you have yet to even bring it up. Ghost, over there, must have drilled him prior to your arrival. He growls in response as you swear you watch the whites of his eyes roll. A slight smile forms on the side of your face.

With a clearing of your voice, you repeat, “Sidorov - what does she have to offer AQ?” Gaz quickly steps in. Your eyes darting towards his movement. “She’s an arms dealer. Pretty big in Europe. We have word that she’s moving something big,” he shares. “We need to find out what, when, and where.” You hum at the sound of his intel. “Sounds like fun. Where will exfil be?” you ask with your eyes to the map. Alejandro points towards the bridge across the way from the restaurant. “Los Vaqueros will be here. Ready for support if needed," he answers confidently.

"Alright," you answer. With a flick of your eyes, your glance shifts up to Ghost. "You got any questions, LT?" you tauntingly ask. You know exactly what you are doing. Hell bent on poking this masked bear. Soap exchanges looks between you two, like his first Christmas with divorced parents. Another growl emerges from behind the mask. It leaves you with a smirk. "Let's roll out," Price says as he grabs hold of the map.

Restaurant Ébullition has an interesting feel to it. Its stoned walls transport you to another time, but the food has you right here in the present. "God, I love when we get to eat on the job," you say with a mouth full of food. "You're damn right, Aero. This tastes incredible," Gaz responds with a laugh. You chuckle alongside him, truly selling the idea that both of you were close friends on a dinner date. All while beautiful Nadia is sitting alone three tables down from you. "Are you both done?" the chilling, deep voice plays through the covert communication device in your ear.

"Ugh. Can't even enjoy our meal, huh, Gaz?" you ask with a laugh. "Always work and no play," Gaz taunts. Ghost willingly radios his annoyed grunt. You take another bite of your pasta. A piece of you hinting that it should be your last, seeing as you are about to embark on quite the physical journey.

"AQ has arrived. One going in, two security outside," Soap radios in. You place down your fork as you shine a smile towards Gaz. "Eyes on," you whisper through your smile as you mark the male figure walking towards Sidorov. He wears a navy blue suit that fits him like a glove. "Confirmed meeting," Gaz says as he stabs his fork into another bite of food. You bite your lip as you watch the man and Sidorov greet each other. They both sit down as their hands rest upon their phones. "Electronic transaction," you mutter against your cup right before taking a sip of your water. "Tracking," Ghost answers coldly.

Gaz smiles as his hands reach over to yours. You oblige as you lean closer towards him. His fingers warm to the touch, but hardened in the way you appreciate. His delicate brown eyes leaving you with a genuine smirk. As much as this mission irks you, you do appreciate having something beautiful to look at.

While you are lost in thought, Gaz passes a small cylindrical item into your palm. "Who do you want?" he asks with a grin. The question leads you to believe the item is a tranquilizer. "Hm, I was thinking the man. I like his suit," you lean closer into him as you grip onto the needled tranq. He smiles devilishly as his eyes fall towards your mouth. You hum as you lightly place your lips upon him. Your eyes initially closed, but slowly open once you hear movement from the targets’ table.

"Are you two done snogging or are we gonna get the arm's dealer?" Ghost abruptly pours over the coms. You pull back with a laugh. "Someone's a little jealous," you murmur. That brings a huge smile to Gaz’s face. “Quite the opposite,” Ghost retorts. You place a gentle hand upon Gaz’s cheek, covering your mouth from Sidorov’s point of view.

You continue to keep your eyes on Gaz’s to sell that you were speaking only to him. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to be here and eat this delicious food right now?” Gaz places kisses to the palm of your hand. “No, I would not want to down there with you,” he answers matter of factly.

As much as his comment left a sting to your heart, you watch as Gaz’s eyes track Sidorov through the restaurant. She stands and walks towards the back kitchen. The AQ target stands as well. He straightens out his dress shirt and walks over to the front. "It's done," you whisper. Once their backs are turned, both you and Gaz go to your designated targets. He should have her down easy, but worst case he has Los Vanqueros to back him up. You, on the other hand, have to rely on Ghost’s overwatch.

“He’s about to meet up with his men,” Ghost chimes in. You hurry your pace as you watch the man pat one of his security on the shoulder. “Window’s lost. Made it harder on yourself,” he shares with disgust. Soap awkwardly adds, “What’s the point if there’s no challenge?” With a roll of your eyes, you mark one civilian in the area - the valet boy. As the target was finishing his conversation, you quickly move past him to give the valet your ticket first.

The boy runs to grab your car in the other lot. You turn to the men with a smile sprawled across your face. “Sorry, boys. I’m in a bit of a rush,” you share as they look at you with disdain. Abruptly, you stab the target in the top of his thigh with your tranquilizer. Your thumb pressing firmly against the plunge. All while spinning your leg through a low kick and dropping one of the security guards onto their backs. The other one attempts to reach for his gun. You quickly grab your knife from your boot and fling it. It lands perfectly into the man’s chest, just as Ghost’s bullet plows through his head.

You let out a growl as you turn your attention towards the man on his back. You rapidly plunge your other knife into his heart as you look up towards Ghost’s overwatch position. “I had him,” you say through gritted teeth. “Didn’t look like it,” he responds. You shake off that bullshit and reach for the AQ trader. He rests peacefully, face down, on the sidewalk.

As you lug him over your shoulder, a car pulls around the front in a mad dash. You lock eyes with Rudy, who’s smile slowly grows. “Hola, teniente,” he greets. “Qué tal, Rudy?” you respond. You walk the target over to the trunk of the car. Your arm pulls it open. You lean your shoulder over its empty so that the target lands gracefully. Closing the hatch, you hear Ghost ask, “Gaz, Alejandro - you at exfil?” You intently listen as you walk over to the front seat.

“Yes, LT, with target in hand,” Gaz answers. You pull yourself into the front seat. “Let’s wrap this up and get home,” you say sternly. All in hopes of closing the mission out before Ghost. How did your sole purpose in life become annoying this masked mystery? You watch as Rudy begins to laugh beside you. You can’t help but smirk as you mutter “Shut up” under your breath.

• qué tal: what's up?

Ghost stands in the corner of the room, his apparent favorite spot. His lurking tall mass blending in with the darkness. The hairs on the back of your neck stand. His presence is making interrogation so much harder for you. His continuous staring leaves you uncomfortable. You catch glimpses of his eyes through the swaying lamp that fills the room. They are always looking back at you.

Soap rests against the wall. His eyes solely focused on the target, which you greatly appreciated. He remains silent as you do your work. The group had brought Sidorov and the AQ contact to a US black site. Each room was lined with sound proofing, perfect for what you had in mind. Even the briefing room outside was lined with the proof, just to further ensure the intel received stayed with the right hands.

“Man, let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be. I really don't want to fuck up this suit," you say as you pull against the AQ target's blazer. "What’s your name?” you ask. You crouch in front of him as he sits upon an old chair with his hands tied tightly behind him. The man smiles, “Fuck you.” His accent thick with Russian descent. “Alright, ‘Fuck you.’ What is Sidorov moving?” you ask. That gets a chuckle out of Soap.

The man remains silent. His eyes tracking your every movement. With a sigh, you pull out your knife from your back waistline. “How’s this going to go?” you ask as you shine your knife towards him. “Fuck you,” he repeats without hesitation. You smile as you plunge your knife into the top of his thigh. The man’s screams radiate throughout the room. Music to your ears.

“Stand down,” Ghost announces as he walks from his darkened corner. You rise from your crouch to meet him head on. “Excuse me?” you ask. Did this asshole really tell you to stand down? As if he has any authority over you? After all his condescending shit tonight? Fuck that. You stand face to face with nostril’s flared and your fists clenched.

“Hey, hey, hey. Let’s take this outside, LT’s,” Soap suggests as he guides you both outside of the interrogation room. With a slight close of the door behind him, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “You two need to talk. I’ll keep pressing him,” he says as he walks back inside the interrogation room. The door makes a clear clicking sound when he locks it behind him. Making it impossible for you both to follow him.

Once Soap is gone, you turn to look at Ghost, who’s been staring at you the entire time. “The hell is your problem, Ghost?” you ask, rage filled through your voice. "You aren't needed here. You can leave," he states calmly. You scoff, trying to hold back your laughter. You lean in, closer to his stitched skulled mask. "I'm pretty sure the Captain decides that. Not you," you whisper.

"Back up," Ghost warns. His voice remaining cool, calm, and collected. You lean in closer to him. Your face right in front of his. You are practically begging for him to do something. You can see the anger building in his eyes as you show no fear, no authority, no respect. Finally, some emotion he cannot hide. "No," you retort.

Ghost quickly extends his arm to land a blow to your gut. You, just as quickly, block it and land a fist against his jaw. Hey, he started it. Your leg goes in for a kick, but he blocks it with his own. He lands a blow against your gut that time and another onto your nose. Blood trickles down from one of your nostrils as you increase the distance between you two.

The familiar itchy sensation as the blood pools atop your upper lip. You can't help but smile. You always enjoyed a good fight. Your nose bleeds for only a minute. His eyes remain hellbent on you, still filled with rage.

Through dipping and ducking, you manage to drop your fist onto his zygomatic bone. Guaranteeing a black eye that only he will see when he takes off his mask. As you reach in for another jab to his nose, he wraps your extended arm around your body. He tucks you close against his as he pins the arm across your chest. Your elbow digging deep within his stomach. He grunts as he rapidly adjusts his hand placements.

Before you knew it, your pinned arm was now being used against you and holding your chin against your left shoulder. Your other arm now held tightly at the side of his hip. He got you. Fuck.

As you both breathe heavily against each other in this tight hold, you continue to try and best your way out of it. With each of your movements, you begin to feel a growing firmed mass against your ass. You recognize exactly what it was. It was difficult to pull your focus back towards getting out Ghost's hold. It even left you wondering if you wanted to. Confusing thoughts flood your brain as your body continues to make attempts out of his grasp.

You finally are able to move your leg enough to land the heel of your foot against Ghost's toes. In his pain, you are able to snake your body away from him. You face him once again, but this time with your hands to your sides. His brown eyes watch you carefully, preparing for your next move.

As you often do when fighting, you allow your body to take control. You trust your instincts and where your body leads you. You raise one of your hands as your eyes remain on Ghost's. Your dominate hand slowly travels to the inner hem of his cargo pants. As he feels your gentle touch, he takes in a sharp surprising breath. His eyes remain on you and still filled with anger. But he wasn't stopping you as you place your palm upon the outline of his cock.

You press against him with more force. Your own mouth begins to hang as you pull closer to him. His bulge growing in your hands. Ghost releases a shaky breath as his chin raises. His eyes remaining on you. Before you can stop yourself, you whisper, "I want it." Another breath is released between the two of you. It is followed by a hesitant nod of Ghost's head.

With his agreement, your hands gradually travel to Ghost's belt. You unbuckle it while both your eyes continue to remain on each other. No one would dare break the gaze. As you unzip and lower his pants, you slowly descend onto your knees in front of him. The bulge is even more evident against his blacked out boxer briefs. Your mouth begins to water.

Ghost's breathing intensifies at the sight of you on your knees. Your eyes still fixed upon him. Slow again, you pull down his briefs. Your eye contact breaks only to reveal the large girthy red tipped cock that flips onto his toned stomach. You release a slow breath as you see a bead of precum emerging from his slit. Your mouth is drawn to him. It is undeniable.

You allow your body to take charge once more. Your hand slowly wraps around the base of his cock, firm against his groomed curls. Your mouth slightly opens as you are ready to take him in. Ghost's fingers curl underneath your chin. Your eyes land upon his once again. Those warm brown eyes watching you with hellish intent.

He softly instructs, "Eyes on me, Lieutenant." With a growing smile, you guide his cock towards your mouth. As your lips wrap his tip, you watch as he takes in a heavy breath. His eyelids slightly fluttering. You note that he is trying his best to keep his eyes on you as well.

Circling his reddened head, your tongue lathers Ghost's cock. The salted taste of his precum leaving you with an abundance of warmth within your chest. You hum against his dick as his girth feels fantastic in your mouth. He begrudgingly releases a short, low toned groan as you take more of him in your mouth. "Fuck," he murmurs as his hand moves towards the top of your head. As his body tightens, his hands grip onto several strands of your hair. You enjoy the tightening pull against your scalp as your tongue travels against the thick vein under his dick.

Ghost's moans fill the air. You grab tightly against the back of his thighs as you take more of him into your mouth. He fills your mouth so fucking good. The sounds he makes when your tongue explores his cock leave you so close to your own euphoria. You struggle to keep your eyes on him, but his are most definitely on yours. "Let me fuck that pretty face," he says as he gathers more of your hair. He ruts his hips against your chin and cheeks. His cock firmly pressed to the back of your throat. You gag on his length, which makes him thrust harder into you.

"God, you take me so well," Ghost whispers as his cock twitches against the roof of your mouth. You decide to take control and wrap your hand around his base once again. You begin to pump his dick as your mouth sucks tightly against his head. Your tongue lapping up anything that came from his pretty slit. He struggles to find his balance as you suck on his cock. He leans against a desk as your hands rest firmly against the tops of his thighs.

"Fuck. Get up," he demands with his hands now hooked under your arms. He lifts you up quickly, leaving a gasp escaping your lips. He spins himself around you so that your back is against his chest. Ghost lands a firm hand against the crook of your neck. With his strength, he pushes your chest down onto the desk. Your body feels on fire as he plans to use your ass however he pleases. You feel his hands harshly pulling your pants down.

As you lay bare assed in front of him, Ghost's breathing heavies. One of his hands lands upon your waist as the other guides his cock to your hole. You feel his saliva-soaked dick circle your entrance as you grip onto the desk. Any and all surroundings were gone from your field of vision. All you had was this desk and Ghost. You moan as you feel his cock twitch against you. You wanted him so badly in this moment. Nothing could take this away from you. Until you hear the popping of the door's lock.

You feel Ghost's hands push off of your back. You quickly raise from the desk and pull your pants up. You see Ghost doing the same in your peripherals. Pulling your shirt down, you look up to see Soap opening the door slowly. "Sidorov's got a stealth bomb drone. AQ's hoping to use it against Las Almas cartel and Los Vaqueros," he shares with concern. You answer with a clearing of your throat, "Two birds, one stone." Soap nods. "Let's see if Alejandro, Gaz, and Rudy got anything out of Sidorov," Ghost says as he quickly turns and leaves the briefing area. You turn to Soap to see if he might have anything to say from what he saw, but he fortunately did not seem phased. Maybe he didn't see anything. Fuck, you hope he didn't see anything. With a deep breath, you follow Soap into the hallway.

note: let me know if you want more! i think i want more tbh <3 reblogs if you enjoyed please!

• take me • part two •

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • requests open •

#simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x gn reader #gender neutral y/n #g riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley fanfic #ghost smut #simon riley x you #cod mw2 #simon riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro x rodolfo #captain john price #kate laswell #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ghost fluff #ghost fanfic

[pettyprocrastination]

actually thinking about that “not all characters should be in a coffee shop au” because simon riley is absolutely a line cook with a permanent record who takes hella smoke breaks and is always one more “table three said theyre chicken tastes ‘funny’ “ away from fucking killing somebody 

#line cook simon tag #tj talks #i know he can EAT ITTTTTT #simon ghost riley x reader #actually thinking about making out with this man. DEAR G O D #i know this man has probably had a bad workplace relationship with a waitstaff before than ends in a messy breakup that makes work weird

[kalimarinu]

offerings from the unnamed.

[ summary : a mystery person is leaving gifts for 141? ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 3rd person & 2nd-ish pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , unedited & not proofread , i know nothing about the military once again ]

[ word count : 2,392 ]

[ notes : back after another long while , yeah!!! this was fun <3 i can't believe this is 2k words what ?!@?!>@/ that's longer than my previous fic & this was just like a spitball idk..., also the 141 might just have memory loss why is everyone forgetting everything!! (y'all idk why i got so into it w gaz and price's section like why is it so long and soap and ghost's are so short???. but more the merrier, right...?) ]

John Price:

he was pretty surprised at first, he did not expect to see a bouquet of roses on his desk. though, he doesn't question it? 

—until he walks up closer to examine the flowers, just to see a little tag with a note on it that reads: 'for my favorite captain. -a/n.'

now he's a little confused. could it be one of his sergeants? his lieutenant? hell, it could be so many other people.

the only hint is the handwriting. he swears he can recognize it. 

but suddenly price reminds himself he actually has work, so never mind the flowers, for now, he needs to get back to doing his paperwork and such. 

as he works away and whatnot, the thought of the roses is lingering in the back of his mind and slowly creeping up to the front, and he can't seem to ignore the questions.

"why roses?" "whose handwriting is that? i swear i know it." "for me? why not anybody else?"

he's utterly perplexed at this point, so he quickly finishes up whatever he needs to do and turns to the bouquet he left sitting on the other side of the desk long ago.

after many, many minutes of just trying to grasp the mysterious person whose handwriting looks the same as on the tag, he gives up.

gives up on trying to figure out this anonymous roses bullshit by himself, anyway. the captain goes to his two closest buddies, unsurprisingly nikolai and laswell.

he questions them, he tells them everything. to the point he walked through the door and saw the bouquet and to the point where he was now asking them for 'help'. but it just ends up being just a lot more questions and inevitably no answers.

he goes to his lieutenant. his two sergeants. nothing.

now he gives up fully. nobody knows anything about this or who it might be. not him, his best friends, or his own task force.

time passes quickly until it's the end of the day (and he's surprised he's almost spent hours trying to figure this puzzling gift out), and he's trying to come to terms with this.

'it's intended to be anonymous, he shouldn't be trying to figure this out, and he shouldn't lose sleep over this.' is what he tells himself when he gets back to his barracks.

he looks down at the mysterious bouquet in his hand that never had left him alone since he'd come across it, like a fungus that had grown on a damp and and won't let go, and he lets out a sigh.

but john supposes he doesn't mind keeping it. if it really is someone he's friends with (which he's sure), he shouldn't just throw it away. he'll keep it.

which is what he does. preparing and cleaning a random glass jar big enough to fit the flowers, found somewhere around his barracks. it's now put to better use instead of just collecting dust, now filled up with water, the stems of the roses inside.

he sets it on the nightstand next to his bed, and for some reason the room feels a little more homey. oh and don't forget the tag, which he sets next to the jar of blossoms, just in case he does remember who's handwriting that is, he'll be 100% sure who it is and won't be doubting himself if he checks it.

he has come to terms with it now. he's comfortable in bed and he won't be asking himself or anyone else questions that'll lead to nothing. he's sure the one who gave him the bouquet will reveal themselves soon enough. like he told himself, 'he won't lose sleep over this.'

and he is about to drift off into sleep— until suddenly he remembers, and he jolts, sitting up.

he turns his head to look at the roses as his brain is overwhelmed with inquiry. price knows who it is. it's c/n. it's y/n. and now he just has more questions, some the same as previous ones but with the added confusion that it's you that got the flowers for him.

he is going to lose sleep over this after all.

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish:

when soap first heard about the captain's situation, he thought it was hilarious. he got roses from an unknown individual? that's silly. he almost even started laughing seeing price so frustrated and baffled over a bouquet of plants.

though, after he said he didn't know anything about any flowers and price walked away in disappointment to go question his other sergeant, perhaps he was a little jealous. don't look at him like that. what's so wrong about maybe wanting a secret admirer?

unbeknownst to him, he would get a gift of his own in no time. when he got to the mess hall, he immediately spotted a box of something right on his table. he quickly went to the seat he always sits at, because of course he has a specific place to eat every day— and he hopes it isn't too obvious to the other soldiers nearby that he's resisting the urge to dash over and admire the supposed present.

when he finally gets to see the gift up close, he practically has stars in his eyes. the note on top of the box catches his eyes first before anything, a simple sentence of 'heard you had a sweet tooth.' typed on the printed out paper.

he has to resist a giddy grin creeping onto his face as he carefully slides the note aside, looking at the box of assorted chocolates in front of him. ultimately, he breaks, and a smile is instantly plastered on his face, already taking one of the sweets and plopping it into his mouth, humming contentedly.

he has the urge to dig into all of them because the candy is remarkably delicious and has his body tingling with dopamine, but fights it and chooses on savoring the gift, taking time to relish in each pieces' flavor.

he enjoys the way the first layers of chocolate slowly melts on his tongue and the taste of the equally chocolate-y syrup inside hits him like a freight train— it makes him appreciate the person who gave him this even more so.

don't worry though, johnny isn't too greedy. he saves the other half of the box for later.

eventually, he does lift his glued-on gaze from the gift to around the mess hall. though, he's met with the other soldiers giving him weird looks. and it does look kind of odd to be fair. a grown man, another soldier, in the mess hall eating a randomly fancy box of chocolates by himself.

despite the little awkward situation and the slightly unpleasant, silent walk out of the mess hall with the box in hand, you know he's walking around with a broad grin on his face for probably the next few days.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

to him, the similar occurrence between his captain and sergeant friend was strange. he'd heard identical stories from both of them now— the same concept of a mysterious offering given to them by a mysterious person.

he was wondering if the lieutenant got one too, and just hadn't told anyone. he was also questioning if he would get one as well. was this individual giving gifts to everyone in the task force?

well, he'd find out soon enough. the answer is most definitely yes.

he'd been dragged away by soap just right after a briefing, into a mostly empty hallway. and after a measly, short conversation and or slight argument about why gaz had been dragged here in the first place, and also why soap looked like he was holding in a giggle fit, the latter pulled out a box from his pocket. so he is getting a gift as well— same note and everything.

soap explains that he'd been requested by this 'anonymous person' to deliver him one as well, like a damn messenger pigeon.

so gaz takes the container carefully in hand before soap snickers and scurries away to do whatever.

he's pretty interested in what's inside as he properly takes a look at it. the box is flatter than your average box, black and sleek with of course, a small, yellow sticky note taped on top. 'this is one of our favourite memories. -unknown.'

he glances around the empty hallway for a moment, feeling a bit weird standing in a quiet hallway, opening a present by himself, alone. but nevermind that— he opens it, and kyle is met with.. a necklace. a silver necklace with a heart locket attached to the bottom.

he moderately cocks his head at the sight of the locket, then picks the necklace up with his right hand, the box still resting on the surface of the other. he opens the heart and squints, a mini photograph of himself and.. another recruit, wearing a mask, so he couldn't see their face. his hand was slung over their shoulder and they were doing the same to his, and despite them covering their face, he could still see a small smile on their face and his own.

he can remember this. he thinks he knows this. it was a group photo of the whole task force. there's the other soldiers in this photo too, but the photo is cropped in a way that you can only see him and the other comrade.

but he doesn't seem to.. remember who he was next to? something in his memory is bugged, like when you forget that one word but you also somewhat remember at the same time, or you forget what you were going to say while having a conversation with somebody.

it almost makes him as frustrated as price when he got his gift, but he wants to push those other emotions aside and just focus on the gratefulness he feels. to be honest he adores the necklace. he's sure he would think it suits him if he wore it and looked in the mirror.

and the picture.. he's still thinking about it. still looking at it. he finds the memory charming and sweet, even if he can't remember this soldier properly. he likes the way he can still see both of the happiness and smile in their eyes despite how tiny the image is. he likes the way he can see the shine and colour in their eyes in the dim light where the photo was taken.

the more he admires the jewelry the more he falls in love with it. the more he wants to cherish it and the mysterious fella who has gifted it to him.

after a lot of staring, and smiling at the present in hand, he finally closes the locket and slips the necklace on, briefly feeling the cold silver around his neck before it turns warm from his body heat.

and then he just walks off casually just like soap, who's probably waiting around the corner to ask "what'd you get?"

he now holds the box close to his chest as if he might keep that too, nearing the end of the hallway.

kyle's mind goes to the photo again, and his brain starts whirring with the thoughts of who it is.

but he's sure he'll remember later. he'll know who the person is soon enough, maybe if he sees them walking through the halls with that same mask. but either way, he knows he'll remember, and he'll thank them for this gift.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

now, he already knew he was going to get a gift as well, seeing as everyone in the task force but him has gotten at least something. he's heard price's predicament, johnny entering a briefing a little too happily with small bits of chocolate syrup near his lips, and kyle proudly walking around base wearing a necklace.

but he has some assumptions that the person didn't get anything for him. he's.. well, simon 'ghost' riley, after all. spooky, intimidating to most, tall dude.

but it seems his assumptions were incorrect, because he came back to his barracks after somewhat of a rough mission just to notice a a small, dark box oddly left on top of one of the shelves near his bed.

after easily retrieving the container, he examines it— and there's the typical 'note' from them, a few words written on top of the lid with a white marker. it reads, 'saw this and it reminded me of you. from a soldier friend of yours.'

.. but what if this 'soldier friend' has actually left a bomb inside of this? will it explode right now? a spy camera? is anybody watching?

you can't blame him for the skepticism. a strange box randomly appearing on one of your shelves? you would be hesitant to open it too.

after a few shakes he gives to the box to hear if anything suspicious is inside, he decides that it isn't a miniscule explosive or a secret camera or any other funky gadget.

simon opens it, and one of his eyebrows raises as an automatic response. a bracelet? specifically, a bracelet made of small, shiny, white pearls with a single flower charm.

but he's not ungrateful or doesn't like it, per se, he's just.. confused. as everyone else was.

confused that somebody thought to get him a gift. bought something for him that he never asked for or mentioned or even thought of himself.

it's not what he was expecting at all. a bracelet. really? for him? but why? he stands in that spot for a good minute, trying to make sense of this. but he's also trying to tell himself he doesn't care about this.

but there's a little creature in his heart or in his brain or something whispering to him that he actually kind of likes it.

he won't admit any of this— but he does end up keeping it, box and all. and he does like the gorgeous glossiness of the pearls and the intricate details and carvings of the charm.

he likes the way it feels on his wrist when he slides it on. it has a nice, cool feeling, but not cold enough for it to be uncomfortable. like the way a cold pillow feels nice against your head.

and from that day forward, if you look closely enough, you can always see a glimpse of a shiny piece of jewelry peeking through the bottom of ghost's sleeve.

#;;mar.writes #soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #gn reader #g/n reader #x reader #x character #reader x character #call of duty #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #platonic #platonic x reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #tf141 x reader #tf141 x you #tf 141 x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader

[ficmashup]

A Date

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: These two are such idiots, I love them. I'm already feeling the itch to make this ten parts and I'm trying to resist (not really) so we'll see! I know what I want to happen next, but we'll see how many chapters it takes to get there. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Some SA references if you squint, crass language.

Word Count: 3.1k

Feral Masterlist

My foot taps insistently on the floor as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve changed clothes five times and while each outfit has irritated me in some way, nothing makes me more frustrated than the fact that I’ve changed clothes five times. It’s so unlike me. But there’s no protocol for going on a date with your captain. There’s fucking protocol to not date your captain. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I take a deep breath, my gaze dropping to my phone for the dozenth time.

It’s been a couple days since Price stayed here and since we set a date to go out. Like actually go out.

The only people I can call are the people I absolutely do not want to know about this. Simon would either pretend not to care then tail us from my apartment or show up randomly wanting to meet my date. Soap would tease the hell out of me and keep bothering me until I told him who it is so he could do a background check. Gaz…he’s the wildcard. And it’s for that reason alone that I pick up the phone and call him.

The phone rings as I put it on speaker and set it on the dresser in front of me as I stare at the screen. “G? Hey!” His voice comes over and I smile a little at the instant warmth in his tone. The tapping of my foot slows.

“Gaz.” I greet him, then realize I have no clue what I’d like to say. “What are you doing?”

“I’m in the shops getting a few things for this weekend. You’re going to fucking love the dip I’m bringing.” I hear the soft shuffling of bags and more of my nerves ebb at his easygoing tone. We’re all gathering at Price’s to watch the game before we’re heading back to base this weekend. “You’re bringing something too, yeah?”

“You know I’m bringing dessert and I don’t want to hear a fucking word about it.” I bite and smile when I hear him chuckling.

“Thought your idea of dessert was sucking on a spoon of sugar, G. You know the whole point of watching the game is to eat chips and dip in front of a big tv, yeah? We don’t need dessert.”

“You need something sweet to cut the salt all of you are inhaling every second.”

“It’s a dip party.”

“It’s a football party and I’m making a dip.”

“A dessert dip? The fuck is it, a bowl of whipped cream?”

“I’ve seen you and Johnny race to finish containers of whipped cream, so don’t even try pretending you wouldn’t love that.” I’m grinning now and while a ball of nerves still remains heavy in my stomach, I no longer feel weighed down by it.

Gaz grunts over the phone. “Ugh, right. Nearly threw up after that.”

“Mmhmm.” I remember clearly, for some reason, I was suckered into rubbing both Gaz and Soap’s backs while they tried not to puke. “If you don’t want to try what I bring, then you don’t have to.” There’s a beat.

“No, I’ll try it.” He gives in almost instantly and I smirk while I walk into my kitchen, leaning against the counter while I stare at the door. A glance at the clock reveals that it’s nearly time and if there’s anything I can count on, it’s that John will be on schedule. “But did you need something, G? Or have you just missed my sweet voice?” Gaz asks and I hear some plastic crinkling as he no doubt piles chips into his shopping cart.

My lips press together for a moment as I consider what to say. “Just missed your voice, Kyle. Looking forward to trying whatever monstrosity of a dip you end up bringing.”

“Hm, careful, G. All those sweets are starting to rub off on you. That was almost sweet.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yeah, that’s more like it.”

“Bye, Gaz.”

“Later, G.”

I hang up and take a deep breath, feeling steady again before there’s a knock at the door. The zing of nerves flushes through my body and I don’t let myself think about it as I walk over and swing the door open without hesitation. My body instantly softens at the sight of Price in a white button down, pressed slacks, and a bouquet of roses. I’m struck dumb instantly.

My name falls off his lips, sweet as honey, and the way he looks me up and down makes me grateful that I finally chose a black dress. “You’re stunning.” He says it like a fact and I smile, pressing my lips together to keep from grinning like a fool as I welcome him inside. I definitely don’t let my eyes slide over his broad back and see how his pants fit his backside and thighs very nicely. “Wasn’t sure how you felt about flowers, so I figured I’d hedge my bets.” He places the beautiful bouquet on my kitchen counter while I grab a vase and I smile as I turn around to see him placing a small bag of my favored hard candies beside them.

“And you say that you’re not good at diplomacy.” I tease and earn a chuckle while I fill a vase with water.

“Don’t think many would accept flowers and candy in exchange for weapons or tac gear.” He lifts the bouquet and slides the already cut stems into the vase as I set it on the counter next to him.

“You never know. Something to try.” I smirk up at him while he smirks down at me and fuck, it’s been a long time since I’ve so easily had fun with someone. “You look really good.” I say it before I can think too hard about it and luckily, my head is blissfully quiet as his smile sweetens while those pretty blue eyes shine.

“Good thing too. Maybe I won’t look too outta place next to you.” He says and I blink before I lift my hand to flutter over my mouth to hide my wide smile. Fucking smooth talker. “Ready?” Price tilts his head towards the door and I nod, grabbing my small purse and sliding a few candies into it. He offers his arm and I take it with a little smile, feeling…well, like I’m going on an actual date.

The car ride is easy, nothing we haven’t done before, but the nerves creep back as we walk into a nice restaurant. Although it’s terribly sweet how John shifts and his hand slides over mine wrapped around his arm when he confirms the reservation. Maybe he’s as nervous as I am. “Is this your usual haunt for dates?” I ask him softly as we settle down at a table. Thankfully, it has a clear view of the doors.

John heaves a breath and shakes his head. “No. Thought that since we’re both a bit out of practice, going back to basics might be best.” He settles into his chair and there’s a small smile on my face as he looks around a bit, hands smoothing over his thighs. Somehow, him being nervous makes me less nervous. It means he cares as much as I do.

“Bet I can beat you there.” I challenge and he stills, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Two years. And a little longer if we’re talking a date with someone that matters.”

John half-smiles. “A year for me. Year and a half for anyone that mattered.” I hum, claiming my victory while his eyes sparkle with amusement just as the waiter comes by to take our drink orders. I take a small risk just to put him a little more at ease.

“An old-fashioned for him.” I order his favorite with a little smirk at the look he gives me.

He considers a moment while the waiter looks between us with a dubious expression. “Mojito to start, then white wine for dinner. Something sweet.” Price looks at me for approval and I nod, pressing my lips together to keep myself from grinning like a fool. The waiter takes this in and his bemused glance at us nearly makes me laugh as he walks away.

“Think we’re scaring the waiter.” My tone is light as my fingers glide over the silverware laid out on the table with the cloth napkin in my lap. At least I remembered a little about how to act in a place like this.

“He’ll recover.” John says without an ounce of concern and I try not to glow under his steady gaze. It feels surprisingly nice having all of his attention. I don’t mind being seen by him, never have.

My head tilts a little. “Do you enjoy scaring the general public?”

“Occasionally.” He leans forward a little and I copy him, unable to resist. “Although, I’m not the one who nearly knocked out some idiot in a bar.”

I smile at the memory. “He would have deserved it.”

Price nods without hesitation. “I almost regret not letting you. That happen often when you’re home?”

My head shakes as I fiddle with my glass of water, turning it in a slow circle. “I handle things a little differently here. My reaction there was due to being around a crowd of other military men who seem to always understand physical denials better than verbal. Something I’m sure you’re not unfamiliar with.” He sighs, but nods with reluctant acceptance. “I figured it was better to make my stance clear right away. At home, I’m a bit more lenient. More drinks thrown in people’s faces than fists.” The pads of my fingers tap against my glass as a thought occurs to me. “What’s your choice of deterrent?”

My question earns me a warm chuckle and brings the slightest of blushes to his cheeks. “Ah…most are chased off by a stern warning.” My smile widens a bit when he doesn’t deny being chased after. It’s not a surprise. In my clearly biased opinion, Price is a catch. Which makes it all the more puzzling that he’s on a date with me.

We order and conversation is easy as always. We veer away from the topic of work and speak more about our family life, what it was like for us growing up, and how we eventually decided to go into the military. It’s nice hearing him talk about himself for an extended period of time. I’m used to hearing him talk about plans, missions, and all with a firm tone with a goal in mind. Now, he’s relaxed and smiling and his tone is light. Even playful. I could listen to him talk all day.

“I don’t need dessert, John.” I insist, smiling ear to ear as he hands the dessert menu back to our waiter after already ordering me one. “I’m not going to eat it.”

“You’ll have at least one bite here, then eat it tomorrow.” He states and my head shakes while I swirl my wine around in my glass. It’s actually good. He chose well.

“Only if you have a bite too. You need more sugar in your life.” I say pointedly with laughter in my voice. His smile in return is warm and both of us have our elbows on the table as we lean towards each other.

“Good thing I have you then, sugar.” His eyes sparkle as my head ducks a moment, my face heating.

“Mm, good thing.” I return and fuck, he’s pretty when he smiles like that. All teasing and light and sweet. The dessert comes, the sweetest little thing they had on the menu, and we both take a bite as promised. I might have a few bites more before we finally walk out. The night is brisk and I pull my wrap tight around my shoulders, automatically leaning into Price’s warmth as I wrap my arm around his. He accepts me instantly and it’s easy to feel like a normal couple as we walk down the street towards his car.

“Should we think about what to tell the team or are we putting a pin in that for now?” I ask idly and Price sighs, the warm air from his lungs appearing as an amorphous shape in the cool air.

“As soon as we tell them, we’re going to hear about it for a while.”

“Weeks?”

“Months, if we’re lucky. Years, if we’re unlucky.”

I pull in a deep breath, shaking my head at the thought of the boys nagging us for so long. But it does make me happy to think about years spent with them and Price. “How about we talk about it over breakfast on Friday?” I suggest, my lips pressing together a moment as nerves swirl in my stomach. I can count on one hand the number of times that I’ve asked a man out with varied success. But when I look back at Price, he just has a sweet smile on his face.

“Sounds good to me. Dinner tonight, lunch tomorrow, breakfast on Friday.” We reach the car and I raise a brow at him as he opens the passenger side door for me.

“Lunch tomorrow?” We hadn’t spoken about that yet.

He nods, a teasing glint in his eyes as he helps me up into the passenger seat. “Mmhmm. Sound good?” Good is a severe understatement, but I manage not to grin like an idiot while I nod.

“Sounds good.” I agree and that little glint grows brighter as he closes the door. I allow myself to lean my head back against the headrest as I smile as wide as I want, then compose myself as Price gets into the driver’s seat and takes me home. We both walk very slowly as we head up to my flat and I almost laugh at both of us acting like teenagers not wanting to say goodbye at the end of a date.

He sighs heavily as I unlock the door and I smirk at the sound. At least I don’t have to wonder if he had a good time. I push my door open and turn back around, leaning against the door frame. “Thank you for this.” My hands smooth down my dress as I look up at his handsome face and I’m glad he’s not wearing his usual hat pulled low over his face. I like that I get to see this side of him. “I had a really good time.”

“So did I. Thank you for letting me.” He says with a playful edge in his voice and I give him a look for the insinuation that I don’t often let anyone do anything for me. Despite it being absolutely true.

“And are you going to tell me where I’m letting you take me for lunch tomorrow?” I turn his words around on him and feel immense satisfaction as he smirks and leans against the doorframe opposite me.

“I’m going to show you a few of my favorite places around the city. It’ll be a bit more relaxed and we’ll be walking a bit, so comfortable shoes would be wise. I’ll come to pick you up at noon. Alright?” He tilts his head towards me slightly, waiting for me to agree, and I smile at his thoughtfulness as I nod.

“Alright.” I agree and we stall for another moment. We’ve reached a soft line tonight. Sure, he’s been in my apartment, ate my food, drank tea, slept in my guest room, but that was all while we were friends. He’s not getting invited inside after the first date. I cross my arms and he seems to realize the line a second afterward, smiling as he straightens and takes half a step away from my door.

“I…” He hesitates and my arms fall back to my sides as I wait for whatever he has to say. His pretty blue eyes are locked on mine with his lips parted and I raise a brow, silently telling him to go on. He takes a breath and turns his body back towards mine, but doesn’t move closer. “I’d like to kiss you, but I need you to tell me if that’s alright or not.” His voice is a touch lower and surprise trickles through me, then warmth.

I take a steadying breath before stepping towards him. “It’s okay. Just…slowly.” My eyes stay on his, my words frank and honest, just like we’ve always been with each other. He nods and leans down a bit, the only part of him touching me is a callused finger sliding under my chin to tilt my head for him. The barest touch sends electricity sparking through me.

I taste his breath first and the leftover sweetness from our last bite of dessert mixes with distinct, bitter scent of his cigars. It’s intoxicating and I hum ever so softly while my eyelids flutter. John murmurs my name before brushing his lips against mine for the first time. I stiffen out of instinct and he pulls back an inch before freezing, his eyes scanning my face. It takes a moment for me to relax and this time, I reach up and gingerly slide my hands through his beard as I get myself used to him. He sighs and I’m immediately comforted by the way he leans into my touch.

“Again.” I request, lightly scratching my dull nails over his beard without even thinking about it.

Price’s eyes widen for a moment, but he doesn’t hesitate to kiss me again. I focus on everything that makes Price, Price—the smell of his cigars, his trimmed beard, the way I can feel the tension in his hand as he tilts my chin up, doing everything he can not to touch me more because I haven’t asked for it yet, haven’t said it was okay. His lips are gentle against mine and the kiss is simple. Just a little pressure and the slightest taste of his breath once, twice, a third time before he pulls back and straightens.

Our hands fall away from one another and I rub my fingers together, still feeling the sensation of his beard under my fingertips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says in a low tone that I’ve never heard from him before and all I can do is nod. He smiles and I barely stop myself from reaching for him again as he walks down the hall and into the stairwell.

It’s only when I’m inside my apartment and leaning back against my locked door, fingers on my lips as they tingle, that I realize just how much trouble I’m in.

Taglist (I love all of you sm! <3 If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk!)

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova

#the best kind of trouble #Price is running out of that building #feeling like G just took a piece of his soul #both of them are trying not to let on #to the other that they're absolutely smitten #both idiots #I love them your honor #captain price #angst #call of duty #cod #fluff #cod mw2 #price #price x reader #gaz #ghost #simon ghost riley #Captain Price #captain john price #john price #price cod #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #mw2 #cod x reader #tf141 #tf 141 #kyle gaz garrick

[callofdudes]

Yesss!! Cod g/t brain worm! I just really need as much tiny!y/n, ghost, soap, and gaz with guant!price fics as I can handle!

Giant!Price and his little tinys helping him cooking in the kitchen. Like tiny!soap amd ghost pushing the ingredients to price when he needs them, while tiny!y/n mixes the pot and tiny!gaz is the taste tester!! It's so cute🥺🥺

P.s. I am sending something kinda similar to this to other authors as well. BUT I AM CHANGING THE PROMPT!! I just want to see everyone's take on cod g/t. So if you're uncomfortable with multiple authors also writing something not super similar to this, but still a cod g/t fic, I understand and you can just ignore this. Thank you🩷🩷

Shut up this is so adorable. I immediately thought of them as those little tiny chibi like characters. So just know that is what I'm picturing as I write this. Their little beans now. I hope you enjoy it, this was an interesting experiment.

When a family makes a home.

Price was in charge of taking care of his little ones. While you weren't always the most military efficient, Price brought you guys everywhere with him. On leave he had shelves above his bed where he had set up beds and configurations for sleep, all for you guys.

At night dropping you all off at your little platforms and making sure you were snuggled in so you wouldn't fall off. Even if you did, his chest would be there as a landing pad.

Even so, sometimes you guys would come and snuggle with him. Mostly you or Johnny, which frequently leads to you guys trapped under his weighted blanket.

If there is one thing you all like to do together though, it's baking. Price was taught by his mother how to cook and bake, and that was something that always stuck with him. Making bread or cupcakes. He wasn't always the best decorator there ever was, but it worked out.

Especially with his little helpers. Price got up and ready for the day, having a shower and dressing in something fresh. Coming outside to see four little people standing outside the door expectantly. Like cats almost.

He chuckled softly, walking down the hall with you all following after him. Johnny hopped and grabbed Simon's hand as they ran with him.

Gaz tagged along behind with you, having a conversation about something or other. The morning laziness was nice, especially since Price didn't get time off a lot. What with work?

You headed to the kitchen and Johnny jumped excitedly. "We'll help!!"

"We always help, Johnny." Simon pokes his cheek, making the Scot pout a little.

Price bent down, gently picking you all up, Johnny and Gaz getting comfy. Simon huffed and stepped into Price's hand with you behind him.

"So what are we making??" You asked, leaning forward to inspect the clean counter and washed-down stove.

"Omelets, I'm fixing for one today. That alright?"

Gaz gave his biggest thumbs up. As a taste tester of course he got to be the first to approve. 😌

"Perfect." Price got out a pan. "Alright," He headed to the fridge, narrating quietly as he got out eggs, milk, onions, peppers and whatever else they needed. He set them in a pile and placed his hand over the man to make sure it was hot.

He poured some oil in the pan and you all stood around watching. Gaz had a little spot by the spice rack where he usually sat. In his words, his job was to "sit there and look pretty." Which he did very well.

Price felt the pan was hot and reached his hand out. "Eggs."

Simon got up, Johnny and him each taking a side to flip the carton open. "How about this one Simon??"

"Looks heavy as fuck."

"This one it is then!"

Simon sighed, going over and taking off his little gloves, helping Johnny wiggle the egg out and carry it back on wobbly legs to Price.

"Thank you." Price cracked the egg in the pan, watching it sizzle and start to cook. "I'm going to flip it a few times and then you can have it y/n."

You smiled, nodding and rushing over. At the ready Captain Price!

"Ok, one, two, pull!" Johnny pushed the jug of milk forward with all his might, Simon grabbing the handle and tugging, his feet struggling under the marble countertop.

Slowly dragging it over.

"See.. this isn't too hard!"

"Thank you, both of you."

Johnny smiled, hopping on Simon and squeezing him. "aye aye captain!"

Simon pinched Johnny's cheek. "You're horrible."

You watched, smiling and looking into the pan. Price poured a dab of milk in and smoothed the egg around, ordering up another egg which Johnny and Simon quickly fetched.

Once Price popped it in he handed you the flipper. "Have at it kiddo."

"Yes!" You jumped in, standing on the edge, close but not too close, stirring the egg and flipping it with all your might!

Price went to the fridge again and poured three glasses of orange juice. He set down a big one and two small ones. Then getting out pineapple and mango for Simon and Gaz. Two little glasses.

You take a few sips while you watch the pan, grabbing the handle again and squishing it under the omelette, grunting and pushing it up and flipping it. Getting the folded side over too.

"How's it looking y/n?" Price asked.

"It looks good!

"Careful with that knife you two." He said over to Johnny and Simon. Simon looked over at Price. They'd gotten out the peppers and onions, Johnny holding the handle while Simon guided the blade down on the vegetable.

"Don't worry, If Johnny loses a hand I won't worry."

"Hey! You'd worry if I lost a hand." Johnny rested his chin on the handle, pouting out his lip at Simon.

Simon grumbled a little. "Yeah,.. just hold the knife."

Johnny grinned, knowing that was a yes, and went back to work.

Price looked at Gaz who sipped his pineapple mango. "Comfy?"

Gaz looked at him, then the others. "Sure beats having to chop peppers captain."

Price hummed and nodded. "Of course." He finished off his drink and grabbed a plate from the cupboard. Heading over to you. "Alright kiddo, I'll squeeze in here for a moment."

You hopped out of the way and Price took the flipper, putting the omelette on the plate. "Alright, a couple more eggs."

Simon scuttled over while Johnny held the handle of the knife, stepping into the carton and grabbing an egg.

"Careful Simon." You warned. Simon huffed, pulling the egg and wiggling it out. He hopped back down, starting to walk over and - crack.

Simon slipped in the egg white that spilled, the whole egg cracking and flooding down on him. You snickered, covering your mouth quickly.

"Son." Price chuckled, holding out his hand. Simon lifted his mask and spat out egg white. Covered from head to toe.

"Shut up." He grumbles before any of you can say anything. "You've been egged!" You snort.

Johnny came over with an armful of pepper chippings. "I got us- ah!" He slipped, egg white staining all up and down his back.

Gaz burst out laughing, followed by you. Johnny whined, standing up and shaking out his dripping gooey hands.

"Oh come on. Who did that??"

Price held out his hand, Johnny seeing Simon also completely drenched in egg. Well, he was glad he wasn't like Simon... He was swimming in it!

Price lightly shook his head. "Ok y/n, you and Gaz keep an eye on the stove, I'll get these two cleaned up."

"Yes sir." You bent down, grabbed a cloth from the stove handlebar and lifted it. Poking your head up carefully as you walked with the large thing.

"Careful," Gaz warned, also getting up and making sure you didn't slip. You huffed, throwing the towel on the small spill, shuffling your feet while Gaz came over and picked up the eggshells.

Once all is clean you get some pepper pieces and put them in the pan. Gaz and you grabbing another egg out.

Gaz went around again and turned down the heat. He spotted the unattended omelette on the plate. Casually walking over and sitting down. He pulled the corner close and took a big chomp.

"Hey, this is pretty good."

"Are you already eating it??" You snickered. "You won't get to taste test."

"I already did. And besides, he won't notice."

You both waited until Price returned with freshly washed clothes Johnny and Simon. "We survived!" Johnny waved, both hopping down onto the counter.

Price chuckled. "Now where were we?"

"Putting another omelette in."

And so you got to work. Simon and Johnny helping with more ingredients and getting the spice shakers to Price. You helped flip and stir, making up some better egg batter to pour in. And Gaz sat and looked pretty.

When all was said and done Price cut up some pieces for you four and had his plate. "Want to test it Gaz??"

"He already-"

Gaz shushed you softly, batting his eyelashes innocently at Price. "Yes, I do." Price tore a piece and gave it to Gaz, who gobbled it down. Giving a thumbs up. "It's really good-" he said through a mouthful.

You each took your plates and followed Price. Getting help down onto the floor and waddling after him with your omelettes. An adorable sight.

You made it to Price's office and he helped you all onto the desk. Grabbing on his laptop, a blanket and a Nintendo Switch.

He put the blanket on the end of his desk and you all sat around the Nintendo Switch, happily eating and watching videos.

"Hey Price??" You poked your head up. Price looking over.

"This is good."

"Well, you helped make it, so pat yourselves on the back too." He ruffles your hair with his thumb.

Johnny giggled, Simon rolled his eyes, and Gaz just continued to look pretty.

It was a peaceful morning.

Price went back to tapping away on his keyboard while you guys watched different videos. Cheering, laughing and talking as you ate.

Price never felt bugged hearing you guys talk. Just glad he had you guys around with him.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #captain price x y/n #platonic reader #g!price t!141 #giant! Price x Tiny 141 #john price x y/n #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x y/n #kyle garrick x reader #kyle's job is to taste food and look pretty #Ghost got egged #a tad rushed since its been sitting here in my drafts since tumblr did that stupid thing

[ghostskiss]

Poker Face

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader

Summary: On an information-gathering operation, things go haywire and not in the way you thought they would.

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, little plot, poker playing, gambling, humiliation (? kinda), public sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f/m receiving), praise kink, facial. No use of Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k

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You’re sitting on Ghost’s lap. During a high-risk mission of all things. You’re sitting on his lap, and you’re trying not to squirm on your Lieutenant of all people. Trying to push the haze of arousal burning through your body and mind away.

His hands are ungloved, something you’ve never had the pleasure in seeing until now. He grips your hips with them, squeezing you softly before easing away.

This game you two are playing has got to be the most dangerous one you’ve partaken in.

A few days ago, Laswell explained what had to be done. Price went over it with all of you in the 141. Two “civilians” in. Gather the information you need and get the hell out of dodge. You have no idea why you’re paired up with Ghost. He refused to go in without a mask, wearing his balaclava he uses around more civil areas. His real mask wouldn’t fly here. You all know this, yet they chose to pair you with him anyways. Seeing parts of him that you haven’t yet seen, actual human under the hard attire he wore loyally, is doing something to your body.

Your cover’s working, the two of you went into this poker game as a couple. It was private, Ghost had to be formally invited by an insider, the whole file on this particular op was large. So much planning had gone underway, Ghost was originally supposed to be here alone. Until the Task Force all realized going in without “arm candy” or a good luck charm was something unheard of with this group of men. Each of them around the table have their own girls on their laps, one even has two surrounding him. You don’t get it. This game hardly makes sense to you, and you’re struggling with keeping your own poker face.

You’re glad Ghost can’t see you, back pressed against his wide chest. You can feel him breathe, shift, everything. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to the man, and you wonder if he’s feeling just as touched starved as you, his fingers trailing lazily up the slit of your dress where your thigh peeks through.

He won’t stop touching you and it’s making you a mess.

When the two of you had first gotten here, you were surprised with how many women were here. How little of clothing they were wearing.

You’re wearing a tiny black dress, the straps crossing at the back, thigh slit showing too much in your opinion. If you happened to bend over, there was no doubt your panties would be on display. You feel naked and vulnerable, no weapons to protect you from harm. Still, it seemed like more clothing than the others were wearing. It was definitely different from your work attire, and you wish you could relive the moment Ghost saw you in this for the first time.

“Christ, are you kidding?” He’d said as he ran a hand over his masked face. Like he was pissed off at your fashion choice.

Your brows furrowed into confusion, “What’s wrong, Lt?”

Ghost’s hand stopped at his mouth as his eyes burned into you, trailing over your entire body before he finally gave you answer. “You’re wearing a tiny fuck-me dress in those shoes,” he points down to your heels that match your dress, “and you expect me to able to do this safely?”

Your hands fidgeted in front of you, “Well, they’ll check us for weapons anyways, so there’s no point in worrying about guns.” You explain, thinking he’s mad at you for not having any place to keep a weapon on you.

A frustrated noise leaves him, his eyes going dark on you. It made you squirm a bit, your breath catching in your throat. “I meant how in the hell am I supposed to be able to focus around you.” It came out like a statement, like he wasn’t questioning it at all.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and honestly, a bit of something else. You had no idea that you could ever have an effect like that on Ghost of all people.

“Thanks, I guess,” you muttered uneasily before he opened the door to the car, ushering you inside before you could dwell on it.

You sure are dwelling on it now, as you feel Ghost take a sigh, chest moving behind you. You’re trying so hard not to fidget, not to do anything, especially when you think about how good he looks right now. How good it feels to be pressed against him, to have his hands idly touch you, like he isn’t even conscious of doing it. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be doing.

You feel him lean in closer to you, hand coming up to your stomach to press you closer into him. “Relax,” he whispers into your ear, causing a delicious shiver to march its way down your spine, “you’re moving too much. Pretend you like me and lean back. They’re going to think I kidnapped you with how nervous you’re being.”

You allow your body to melt into his, turning to look up at him. “I don’t think they’d care about that.” You whisper back, staring into his dark eyes. You watch as his gaze jumps down to your lips and he stares at them from a moment, hand on your hip tightening.

“Oi, love birds. Hands bein’ dealt.” A man calls out to the both of you, breaking whatever spell Ghost was just in.

Blushing, you watch as Ghost picks up his cards, keeping them close to your body. He’s got both arms around you, caging you into him. You stare down at the cards and look up at him to see if they’re good. Of course, Ghost would be the perfect poker player. Even if he didn’t have a mask on, you bet he keeps his expressions to himself quite easily. As you’re trying to study him, to see any slip on if they were good or not, his gaze catches yours, feeling him take a sharp breath in.

“Quit. I’m trying to concentrate.” Ghost almost growls out at you, making you bite your lip at the timber of his tone. It’s rumbling in his chest, making you shudder as you turn away, watching the others around the table take in their cards. Suddenly, a different type of tension takes your body. The air is thicker.

The bets in this game are questions and answers. Each player has their own set of intel, everyone here for a reason. Laswell didn’t inform you on what intel Ghost is supposed to bet, but you’re sure that it’s something that comes at a high price. You know that whatever happens, Ghost is trying to get the highest hand here. The higher the hand, the more you can ask of your opponents. If you don’t answer, you need to have a higher hand than the questioner. If not… you aren’t sure what happens.

Your gaze falls to the table. There’s a gun sitting there, gleaming in the dark light. A revolver, no doubt loaded.

The man across from you bets, eyes set on Ghost. You tense, but you can’t even tell if he’s uncomfortable from the notion that they’re all set on whatever intel he has.

Ghost gruffy sighs out, “Fold.” He sets his cards down on the table, sliding them towards the dealer. The rest of the players continue on, either folding or calling the bet. You can hardly pay attention; you hope Ghost is at least listening on the intel they’re talking about.

One hand of his is placed on the table in front of you, the other under the table, sliding up your leg, dangerously getting closer and closer to your inner thigh. In response, your body produces goosebumps, nipples tightening against the fabric of your dress. It’s too tight to wear a bra and you’re starting to regret it more and more this night went. A woman opposite of you giggles behind her hand, no doubt seeing your reaction happening right before everyone’s eyes. You blush fervently, grabbing Ghost’s hand under the table with your own, trying to get him to stop.

Thankfully, the men don’t care about you or what the woman is laughing about. They continue on with their conversation, as Ghost’s fingers play with your own.  You squeeze his hand, trying to silently tell him to stop, but he either doesn’t get why you’re grabbing him, or he just doesn’t care. He shifts under you, and you freeze, spine shooting you to sit straight up. From the sudden movement, the people around the table scowl at you, suspicion in their eyes. Ghost’s cock under you is hard and throbbing, pressing tight against his pants as you sit on top of it. You wet your lips, heart pounding.

Chuckling, he pulls you back against him, “Sorry boys. Poker gets her a little excited.”

The table around you bursts into laughter and snickers as you tremble against your Lieutenant, humiliated and turned on.

The round ends quickly, the dealer announcing for a break as he locks the cards in the lock box, ensuring no one is tampering with the cards. A couple of men start bantering, some of the women standing from their laps to head to the bar. You stay shuddering in Ghost’s lap, his hand coming up to brush your hair away from your neck.

A sharp intake of breath takes you as you feel him nuzzle his masked face into your neck, practically melting in his embrace.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you stand shakily from his lap, gaze going to his as he towers over you. His dark, usual sleepy eyes are burning into you, something ablaze in them. It makes you want to bolt. Instead, you turn away from him as you start your way to the bathroom, jolting as his hand comes to your lower back, guiding you through the halls. The hand is searing hot through the flimsy material, strong and warm. You’re thinking about it between your legs as he shoves open the bathroom door, locking it quickly.

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror, eyes blown with lust, lips red from your constant biting down on them as you tried to keep yourself from making any noise. Ghost comes up from behind you, and you stare at him through the mirror. He’s so much bigger than you. You barely contain your gasp as his fingers trail up your bare spine.

“After this, you better be on your best behavior.” His voice melts into you as he presses into from behind.

“You’re the one who can’t seem to keep your hands off me.” You snipe back at him, irritated that he thinks you’re the one making it difficult for the both of you.

“Do you blame me? I finally get you away from everyone and here you are, squirming in my lap wearing practically nothing.” His hands grip your hips, pulling you against him, allowing you to feel just how much you’re affecting him.

Ghost fingers curl around the back of your neck, forcing you to keep your gaze on the two of you in the mirror. It’s embarrassing, with how your cunt squeezes around nothing as he makes you look. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you watch his movements.

He’s torturing you, really. That’s the only way to describe how he’s making you feel. His free hand tugs the front of your dress down, freeing your tits. A rumble comes from his chest behind you.

“No bra? Dirty little girl.” A hand cups your breast, squeezing and testing the weight before his fingers are deliciously teasing your tightening nipples. You watch his large hands play with you in the mirror, legs starting to tremble.

Ghost is taking his time it seems, and in the back of your mind you’re thinking about the poker game that’s going to start back up any moment now.

“Ghost, there’s no time for this, we—"

Your voice dies out into a moan as his hand dips under the skirt of your dress, strategically pressing against your throbbing sex. He makes a pleased noise, finding you soaking through your panties.

“Would you have let me touch you in front of everyone?” He asks, his large frame curling around you, voice in a low timber.

You’re shaking. Breaths coming out in shallow pants as his fingers tease your clit through your clothes. You can’t focus, can’t think straight as you watch and feel what he’s doing to you. His eyes are set on you in the mirror, never looking away for even a second. One hand on your tits, plucking, pulling, rolling. The other creates a devastating pace on your cunt, giving you enough to whine and whimper for him, but not enough to get you there.

He’s freeing you as much as he’s caging you, ruining you.

“Answer me.”

Tears start to pool in your eyes as your hips begin to rock, trying to create more pressure, but he doesn’t give into what you’re trying to do. You nod weakly, a pained whimper leaving your lips.

“Yes, Lt.”

At your answer, he rewards you with his fingers. He pushes your panties aside, collecting your slick. You both collectively groan at the contact, and you hear him mumble a curse behind you as he slowly eases two fingers into you.

“Bend over the counter. Keep your eyes on me.” Ghost says, hand pressing down on your lower back. You bend at your hips, hands gripping the edges of the counter. He flips your dress up and he lets out a pleased laugh. “Fucking pretty, that’s what you are. Look at you, fucking my hand like this.”

You moan out at his words, his fingers pumping slowly into you from behind, your pussy making lewd squelches with how wet you are for him. His other hand rips your flimsy thong off your body, and you gasp as you watch him shove it in his pocket. It should make you feel anything other than turned on when you watch him do that.

Suddenly, he’s dropping loudly to his knees, uncaring about the harsh ground underneath him. You can’t see him in the mirror from this angle and you start to turn to look down at him.

“Eyes forward. Don’t want to see them off yourself in the mirror.”

Following his orders, you look into the mirror, watching the surprise come quickly to your expressions.

Hot tongue, soft lips and scruff are pressing, licking, tasting your pussy. A long moan escapes you and you have to really focus on not looking back at him as he leisurely licks up your arousal. It’d be so easy to look. So easy to sneak a glance. You bite down on your lip as you try to be good. Be good. You’ll be in deep trouble if you look. Your thighs start to quiver and shake as his tongue latches around your clit, a hum coming from him, vibrating through your entire sex.

Moaning, you can’t help yourself. You can’t stop your head from turning to look.

Ghost’s got his balaclava rolled up to allow him to lick your cunt. Something about it, something about that he’d even want to do something like this, to you. To even take his mask off just even a little. Without any warning, as you’re looking down at him, you’re taken by a hot blinding orgasm. Ghost looks up as he continues pumping his fingers into you as he sucks and bites, his eyes burning into yours. It’s wet, it’s crippling and you’re thankful for the counter you’re leaning over.

He releases his hold on you, slowly easing his fingers out of your spasming pussy. You’re still looking down at him, sucking down as much air as your lungs are allowing you. He stands up, towering over you, allowing you to look at the bottom half of his face and you shake your head, in disbelief.

“I knew it. I knew you were too good looking and that’s why you wear it.” Your voice is shaky, a little nervous that he’s allowing you to look your fill.

“Quit trying to butter me up,” he growls at you, pulling his mask back down. To your horror, his face is still wet, but you have a feeling he did it on purpose. “You’re still in trouble.”

Ghost grabs you, spinning you around to face him, ass pressing into the counter. He lifts you up with ease, settling you down on top of it, spreading your legs with his hands on your inner thighs. He runs his hands up and down them lazily, feeling you up, making you hot and wanting again.

“I’m sorry –” You squeak and jolt as his thumb starts to press circles against your already sensitive clit.

“You distract me when we’re supposed to be gathering information. You squirm and grind on my lap like a cat in heat, wearing clothes that make all the men stare, and you disobey. You think you’re getting off that easy?” He tsks at you, looking down at you with his dark eyes, slowly pulling out his cock as he continues playing with your pussy.

You shake your head, trying to show him you’re sorry, you’re going to be good.

“Real cute. Try to be quiet and I’ll forgive you.”

Your eyes widen as you watch him stroke his cock, precum dripping from the tip. Your throat suddenly dries, and you take a shaky breath, trying to relax yourself. He’s going to the biggest you’ve ever taken, and you can already tell it’s going to be a challenge. You brace yourself against the counter, fingers squeezing the edges of the porcelain under your open thighs. Ghost steps forward, pressing the head of his cock against your soaking entrance and you sigh out lowly at the feel of him.

He's pressing forward suddenly, making you cry out sharply as he eases his way into you.

“Shh. Good girl.” He tells you, a hand coming up to capture the noise you’re making from your lips. His praise goes straight to your sex, his words making you squeeze around him, and he laughs lowly, “You like that? Like when your lieutenant talks dirty to you?”

Whining behind his hand, you nod frantically as his girth stretches you open. It hurts but it’s such a good hurt. One you know you’ll be aching for later. He stops halfway, letting you adjust until you’re writhing under him, trying to get him to move. He groans at the feel of your hips grinding against him. He sinks himself further inside and now you’re really a mess. You can’t keep yourself from shaking, from whimpering out behind his hand.

It’s thick and heavy, hitting every spot in you that you’ll never be able to reach. His hand leaves your mouth to grip your hips as his thrust pick up, the sound of your soaked pussy filling the bathroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close against you and he chokes at the feel of you.

“Fuck. Feel so fucking good, love. I’m the only one allowed to do this to you, make you feel like this from now on.” His head tips back as he lets out a low groan, your cunt squelching around him.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping onto them for leverage as he continues his assault on all of your senses. The angle he’s hitting you in has got your core tightening, lids lowering in pleasure. His gaze settles back down on you as his thrusts jolt your body, the mirror behind you rattling. You don’t care how loud you’re being now, letting out a pleasure filled squeal, fingernails digging into the material covering his shoulders.

“That’s it, takin’ me so well. Been wanting to fuck this little pussy forever.” Ghost is growling out now, groans and grunts rumbling in his chest, and it sounds so good. Feels so good, you blackout momentarily, gaze crossing before he’s capturing your attention again, a hand gripping your jaw to make you look up at him.

“Focus. Eyes on me.”

His forefingers are rubbing and pressing against your clit again. You’re crying out as you stare half-lidded up at him, your orgasm hurtling towards you fast.

“Simon, please. Please, I’m going to come.” Tears are welling in your eyes as you try to breathe through it. It’s startling how close you are to the edge, on the cusp of exploding. Of breaking into a million pieces under him. Your hands paw at him, overstimulated by the deep thrusts he’s delivering into you, destroying you in more ways than one.

“Come for me, good girl.” He moans lowly, chin dipping to watch where you’re wrapped around him, watching his length glisten with your slick. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, and it pushes you over the edge, crying out his name in chanted syllables, until it’s just empty choked air.

“Good girl. Fuck. Oh, good fucking girl.”

You feel like you’re short circuiting, going haywire as he growls out praises. He’s gripping you so tightly around your hips, you know you’ll have bruises from days later. A reminder of what the two of you got into. Suddenly his thrusts stop as he quickly pulls out of you. You cry out at the abrupt loss of him, until he’s manhandling you to the ground.

“Open your mouth, girl.” His jerking his cock now, as you settle onto your knees, mouth and tongue opening for him. A thumb presses against your tongue, keeping your mouth open and you hear him groan in approval as your wet lashes look up at him. “Fuck, stay just like that. Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

Your gaze holds his even when you desperately want to watch him stroke himself. His thumb moves and that’s the only warning you get besides a delicious moan he gives you as his cum hits your tongue and lips. The salt of it coating your throat as you lick it up from him, thankful for whatever he’s giving you. His hand halts in his movements, watching him pant out, shoulders and chest moving with his ragged breaths.

You lean up, sucking on the tip of his still throbbing cock and his hands shoot out to tangle in your hair. He pulls you harshly away with a growl and you smile innocently up at him as you let go with a pop. Licking your lips, catching any salt of him left, you watch him shake his head at you.

He leans down, grabbing your arms to haul back up to your feet. Ghost touches his forehead to yours and your heart warms briefly at the soft contact before he pulls away to help adjust your dress.

“Let’s hope we can both focus now. Game’s started.” He sighs out, his gaze trailing over you. You look freshly fucked and he doesn’t care. Doesn’t even care anymore about the mission. He wants to stay with you in this bathroom.

He fixes himself before settling a hand on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom, back to the poker table. Back to his lap. This time you’re quicker to lean against him, to relax, even as his hands trail up your thighs, reminding you he still has your torn panties in his pocket.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mwii #guys this took forever omg. #i don't know a n y t h i n g about poker #ma ma ma ma poker face #lady gaga #i wanna hold em like they do in texas pleaze

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

ive been xtra obsessed with these boys if you wanted to try and request something. please bear with me though idk if im gonna be able to get anything done today but i want to try…

BTS - namjoon, yoongi, *i would be willing to attempt writing for jimin and jungkook*

BIGBANG - g dragon, top, taeyang, daesung

detective loki (prisoners), ghost, konig, leon kennedy, han lue (tokyo drift)

#x male reader #bts #bts namjoon #bts yoongi #bts jimn #bts jungkook #kim namjoon #min yoogni #jimin #jeon jungkook #bigbang #g dragon #kwon jiyong #top #lee seunghyun #taeyang #yongbae #daesung #david loki prisoners #simon ghost riley #ghost #konig call of duty #konig #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #han lue #tokyo drift

[yawnderu]

ANGEL — Simon Riley x Reader

cw: toxic situationship, emotionally unavailable Simon, age gap (reader is in her 20s, Simon is canonically in his late 30s).

wc: 2,027 | Part II

“Shh, shh.” Simon can feel his heartstrings being forcefully pulled, the image of you crying, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cling to him for dear life, your fingers gripping his black hoodie.

“S'okay. I can introduce you to some o' my mates.” The look of exasperation you shoot his way is enough to make him try to hold back his laughter, knowing it's not appropriate. Part of him feels bad, but the other part defends itself by telling him he warned you.

Simon Riley doesn't do love. He doesn't do feelings— he's a dog, too tainted and dirty for someone like you, too doomed. He doesn't deserve you, and yet he can't stop crawling back to you despite the heartbreak he sees in your pretty eyes the moment tells you he has to leave.

“I don't want 'em.” His attention is dragged back to you, the whiny tone making his gaze soften despite himself.

“Can you just... fuck me like you love me? I don't care if it's fake, I just...” Another choked sob escapes your lips, soft fingers tightening their hold on the fabric of his hoodie. Simon doesn't say anything— there's nothing he can say to make it better for you. The one condition to your situationship was broken, yet he couldn't find it in himself to abandon you, not when you look up at him like a lost, needy puppy.

“Y'can pretend it's love...” He offers, his tone lacking any mirth or empathy, not when his lips are busy going down your neck, trying his best not to leave any marks or be too rough with you, fighting his own nature for your sake.

His scarred, pink lips travel down your bare body with a gentleness meant to soften the blow of his emotional unavailability, trying his best to counter the heartbreak, secretly hoping that he can slowly mend your broken heart.

“I'll be nice to ya.” His hot breath hits your bare stomach, making your muscles tense up at the sensation, an unwilling shiver running up your spine at the tenderness of his words and actions, something he never showed you when he used to fuck you.

“Treat you like the proper angel y'are.” Simon's guilt is pushed to the back of his mind the moment his lips plant against your clothed mound, his calloused hand going up to your stomach to gently push you down the moment your back arches, wanting to keep you nice and still for him. To take care of your needs, for once.

Simon is a patient man. A patient man, who runs his warm, wet tongue over your clothed cunt, paying especial attention to your hardened clit, only making the knot in your stomach tighten by the second, fingers lacing on his short blond hair, pulling him closer. The display of pure neediness makes Simon's lips tilt up into a small, soft smile despite himself.

His hands explore your soft legs, squeezing softly every once in a while just to reassure you that he's still there. That he's not going away for once. He can feel your muscles twitch beneath his palm, almost mirroring his neglected, throbbing cock.

Simon's warm hands sneak to the back of your thighs, subtly feeling up your ass with the pads of his fingers, slowly sinking into the fat and muscle before he's pulling your legs up, soft kisses planted on your pretty inner thighs, even going as far as to give them gentle love bites, knowing you don't care if he leaves marks— not when your slick is seeping through the fabric of your panties, ready as ever.

“Needy fuckin' girl.” His touch is as gentle as it could be for someone whose hands are used to responding with violence and aggression, sneaking up to the waistband of your panties, pulling down enough to reveal your glistening cunt, not minding how the black cloth was left neglected, hanging on your ankle.

Just like a man starved, Simon's wet tongue darts out of his mouth to give a long, sensual lick against your folds, savoring the taste of your slickness. His rough hands grip your hips to steady you, no longer minding the way your back arches from the pure pleasure he's giving you. He takes a second to admire the sight in front of him, his hot breath fanning against your cunt.

“Good girl.” His skilled, hungry tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your wetness with a need that matches your own. He explores every single inch of your pussy, his tongue flickering and swirling over your hard, swollen clit. His free hand reaches up to fondle one of your tits, his fingers digging into the fat as he devours you.

Simon's hips rock softly against the mattress, looking for any sort of possible relief for his hard, throbbing cock, neglecting it until he can't handle it, hesitantly letting go of your sweet cunt, crawling on top of you and caging you in with his strong, muscular arms. Your soft hand goes to his tattooed arm out of pure muscle memory, earning you a small smirk back.

“You want it, angel? This fat fuckin' cock inside you?” His hips jerk involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels the familiar heat pooling in his abdomen, his hand going down to his zipper out of habit, lowering it just enough to pull out his cock— until he realizes that he promised to make love to you, not to fuck.

With slight hesitation in his movements, Simon gets up from the bed, brown eyes watching your reaction with such focus you'd think he's a predator ready to pounce on its prey... and in a way, he is.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he starts to discard his clothes until he's completely bare and vulnerable, something he's never done before for anyone. The way your gaze softens as your eyes examine his scars almost makes him want to put his clothes back on— to leave and to never come back. Simon doesn't deserve your empathy, not when he keeps making you cry, yet he swallows his discomfort back down, his body resting on top of yours, lifting himself up with his arms.

“Y'always take me so well, don't you?” Simon teases in a whisper, his breath hot against your ear. The sound of your wetness mingling with his leaking tip fills the room, dragging a small whine out of you as he teases your entrance for a few seconds, his eyes on yours the moment he sinks into you, giving you time to get used to his thickness before starting to push in deeper, a low groan leaving his lips the moment he hits your sensitive, spongy cervix.

Simon leans down, his lips pressing against yours as he starts to thrust into your needy, sopping cunt, every single inch of him stretching you out like you were made for him. A small shiver runs down his spine when your hand goes up and down his back, caressing the scars from the torture he suffered at the hands of Roba. He pushes the bitter sensation away, putting his entire focus on the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his, tiny strings of saliva staining the corners of your soft lips.

He pulls you closer, his grip possessive yet still so gentle and tender, his touch becoming more intimate. Simon buries his face on the crook of your neck, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your soft, warm skin.

“Y'like this, princess?” He rolls his hips against yours, pushing himself as deep as possible into your pussy.

“Bet my mates could fuck you better.” Simon silences your protests with a quick kiss, thrusting faster into you just so you become willing to hear him out.

“Could treat ya better, too.” His forehead leans against yours, staring deep into the pleading look you're giving him, silently begging him to stop talking about it— to love you, begging for something he can't give you even if he were to force himself.

“My captain's a good man. Y'like older men, don't ya?” His breath is hot against your cheek, his eyes finally screwing shot as your cunt tightens around him at the mention of Price, a low, deep groan making its way out of his throat.

“'Course you do.” He says with a small chuckle, planting tender kisses all over your cheeks, feeling your breath against his face as more whiny, needy moans leave your lips, your velvety walls tightening around his hard cock.

Simon's back bends slightly as he rests his cheek against your chest, your fast-beating heart giving him a slight sense of comfort he's never found anywhere else. His thrusts grow more desperate— faster and deeper, feeling your tits vibrate with each loud moan you're letting out, pretty legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“My pretty girl.” Even if he's just playing pretend, the words coming out of Simon's lips feel right, his thumb massaging your cheek while he admires you from beneath him, looking just like an angel. Part of Simon pities you, knowing that he'll never be able to love you back, but he can keep pretending for as long as you need.

The knot in your stomach starts to slowly come undone with every single thrust, feeling his meaty cock throb inside you. Your head leans back against the pillow, pretty eyes closing as you allow the illusion of love to set in— to imagine what it's like to be loved by someone like Simon, to get fucked like this daily, with such tenderness and care.

Simon can feel your walls gripping him harder, only encouraging him to slam his hips against yours the way he knows you love it, the upwards curve on his veiny cock allowing him to hit your spongy cervix over and over, low groans and loud pants escaping his lips. His grip tightens around your waist, fingers digging into the skin as he gets closer to the edge, his heavy balls tightening.

Simon lets out a shaky breath as you hold him closer to your sweaty body by the waist, the arch of your back allowing both of your hearts to be against the other's, both beating wildly with the heat of the moment. His face goes back to the crook of your neck as he lets out a loud, throaty moan as he spills his hot cum into you, riding out your orgasms, feeling your tight cunt grip him like vice.

He waits a few seconds before slowly pulling out of you, cupping your cheek just to have those pretty eyes look up at him with nothing but pure trust and love— so lovely, so pure, so untainted, unlike him. He lays down next to you, wrapping his burly arms around you and bringing your exhausted body against his, cuddling you up.

He plants gentle kisses all over your pretty face, basking in the afterglow of the intense love-making, admiring you like you're a piece of art... and truly, in Simon's eyes, you are. His phone vibrates against your bedside table, reaching out for it and letting out a small sigh at the message. Duty calls, and unfortunately, Simon can't get out of a deployment, even when part of his heart stays with you.

“My mates need me for a mission.” He says softly, planting one last kiss on your forehead before getting up from bed, putting his military-provided clothes back on. He stares at the sticky notes on your desk, giving you a small glance before leaning down and writing something on it, ripping the paper away from the rest and putting it down on your bedside table so you won't forget.

“'S my captain's number. Give 'im a call, yeah? He'll answer.” He promises, not daring to leave until you give him a small nod in confirmation, shooting you one last glance before leaving your room, the entrance door slamming shut soon after.

Your already teary eyes stare at the number written down on the sticky note, looking more enticing by the second.

John Price.

#cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon x reader #ghost call of duty #cod #mw2 ghost #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #cod modern warfare #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #situationships

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Between Dreams and Sugar

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)

A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after. 

 On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before. 

Hell, you wished you were drunk. 

“Sergeant.” 

You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop. 

You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.

“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles. 

Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?

Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function. 

A dark growl bounces off the walls.

Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars. 

They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out. 

You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.

“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…” 

“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.

Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe. 

Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony. 

Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day. 

But you entertain him.

Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood. 

Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did. 

Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away. 

His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present. 

The gulping sigh.

“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”

“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”  

A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out. 

“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?” 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before. 

But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.

They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished. 

Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen. 

Fuck, it made him sick.

Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.

What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.

How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest. 

“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team. 

His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.

You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well. 

Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.

Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died. 

“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.” 

“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.” 

The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.

A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry. 

But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost. 

“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver. 

“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”

“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks. 

You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day. 

“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets. 

He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.

“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.

Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.

“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred. 

Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.

The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.

He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.

You had to be okay.

Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.

“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone. 

The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red. 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”

“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”  

The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest. 

Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later. 

Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.

The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend. 

“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.

“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—

Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade. 

The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart. 

Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on. 

It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.

The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight. 

Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment. 

You on the other hand. 

Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.” 

Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.” 

Alric smiles.

“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness. 

Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils. 

It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself. 

“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.” 

Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells. 

“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”

Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain. 

The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.

Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life. 

The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed. 

His bird doesn’t bleed.

Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment. 

He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.

“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!” 

Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.

—

You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one. 

But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat. 

Every limb is a cinder block.

“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely. 

“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple. 

Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.

A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.

“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.” 

The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.

Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.

“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?” 

Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.

“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”

He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds. 

Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth. 

Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp. 

“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart. 

Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.” 

He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs. 

“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.” 

“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.” 

Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.

“They’re nothing.” 

“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.

“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house. 

Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise. 

“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form. 

Ghost snaps forward.

“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”

The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.

So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine. 

Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.

He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.

“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.” 

A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter. 

“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.

“What’s that?” 

“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.” 

A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.

“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”

Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”  

Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.

“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured. 

You know what he means.

“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb. 

When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body. 

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention. 

“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.

“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”

“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.” 

“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body. 

A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back. 

Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you. 

The word seems to stop.

“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to. 

Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.

“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.” 

“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”

“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.” 

“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles. 

You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”

Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him. 

Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.

“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.

“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.

“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.

“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.

Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward. 

“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward. 

“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head. 

“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.” 

—

“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.

The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread. 

“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.

“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide. 

“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue. 

“I think that was a challenge.” 

“It wasn’t.”

The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.

“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can. 

The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.

You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.

“One of everything.”

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

#simon ghost riley #cod #cod x you #cod x reader #cod mw22 #mw2 #mw2 2022 #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #mw2 x reader #modern warfare #mw2 fanfic #x female reader #cod fandom #cod fanfic #female reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #ghost cod #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #cod mw fanfiction #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty

[sim0nril3y]

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon hasn't been able to stop thinking about your relationship and how not making a commitment to you might lead you to running off with someone else. He needs to solve this.

Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), suggestive thoughts, canon-typical swearing.

It was strange to Simon that the two of you had settled into routine together. Most nights he’d pick you up after finishing work, he’d bring you back to his home or drop you off at your flat. More often than not Simon would cook you some good food to fill up your empty tummy, then roll around in the sheets together. The next morning you’d wake up beside him and he’d set to making you a hearty breakfast and discuss plans for the days. Those plans typically of doing exactly what you’d done the day before, spending time together and… though he’d never say it aloud Simon enjoyed it, he looked forward to it.

There was the times when Simon was left feeling lonely because you weren’t around. It was when he wouldn’t see you from one day to the next because you were busy working on an art project or work had left you exhausted. Simon was a solitary person, not needing or even wanting other people around him, or… at least that was how he’d felt before meeting you.

So, what was this? A question that Simon had never asked himself before, but now it was burning inside of him. Never before had Simon desired clarification, but as it currently stood you were just two people living independent lives that slept with each other and spent time together. That left opportunity for you to find someone else and bring them into your life. He hoped that wasn’t the case, it certainly wasn’t something you’d mentioned before but it still left that door open for someone to take you from him.

The thought of losing you filled him with utter dread. How was he supposed to sleep at night with your body to curl around? He’d started buying extra food when doing his weekly shop, who was going to help him eat it all? Plus, all your favourite snacks were filling the cupboards, if you weren’t here then they’d just go to waste… Besides, there wasn’t another living soul out there that would be able to make you fall apart as quick as he could.

Bloody hell. He was in deep here.

That night after a long shift at work you were curled up beside him on the sofa, blanket draped over your legs, snacks between your lounging bodies and eyes fixed on whatever dumb show you’d thrown on the TV. You hadn’t seemed to notice that from beside you Simone was stewing silently, mind racing with how to broach the subject in the most subtle way.

These questions and that anxiety was beginning to build up inside of Simon, his knee was bobbing relentlessly, muscles wound tight, fingers tapping furiously against the arm of the sofa like a metronome. How was he going to do this? How was he going to ask for clarification on what you were to each other? What did he actually hope the answer was going to be? He wanted you, right? Only you. He didn’t want another living soul to have you… fuck, the thought of someone else having their hands and their lips on you. It made him seethe.

“What are we?” The question tumbled from his lips, short and frustrated. It caused you to look up at him, brows furrowed. “Sorry?” “You… do you ever do this with anyone else?” He looked down at you through intense dark eyes. “Do I… watch TV with other people?” You questioned, almost not following his line of questions.

Further frustrated Simon bit out. “Do you fuck anyone else?” That made you begin to fight a little smile, finally figure out what he was trying to ask. “And the rest of it… everything we do together… like going for walks, or to dinner… or just watching TV like this…” He gestured to the way you were lounging so comfortably behind him, sans any make-up and looking so relaxed. “Do you?” Simon asked, you simply smirked as you flitted you gaze back towards the TV and muttered easily. “Would it bother you if I did?”

This question only made him stew and simmer again at the thought of someone else being in your life like this. The thought of them kidding and making you fall apart only mad his anger bubble further. “Mm.” He grumbled out, keep his dangerous eyes locked on you.

Reaching across to rest a delicate hand on his tattooed forearm you mentioned softly. “I don’t do this with anyone else, Si.” You informed him, watching the tension leaving him body in that moment. “Only you.” You quip with a little shrug of your shoulders, before continuing. “If I’m not here with you then I’m at work and I’m wishing that I was here with you or counting down the minutes until I’m going to see you again or wildly ignoring all of tasks and remembering all my time with you.” There was vulnerability to your tone as you informed him that. “Then I see you and I’m happy in all those hours before I’m back to being on my own and wishing it’ll happen all over again.”

You were in deep too. With the way that Simon was looking at you, you could have been convinced that there wasn’t anyone else in the world. “Simon, are you trying to ask me something?” Reaching up you brushed your fingers against his face delicately before following with a gentle few kisses against his cheeks and temples and jawline. Every action made forced his body to relax, coaxing his anxiety away before finally the words came. “What if… we did do this everyday? Just… us two…”

You gnawed your lower lip. “I could get behind that.” You agreed with a tiny shrug of your shoulders. “So… if we did do this… what would I call you?” You quirked a brow at him. “My boyfriend?” Simon grimaced. “Love, I’m not a boy.” He muttered, snatching some of your snacks and beginning to munch away. “How about my lover?” You purred playfully and once again Simon groan and threw you a look. “So… just my Simon?” You raised your brows at him, this time he didn’t seem to fight your suggestion, simply smirked.

“Mm…” Then he nodded, much to your surprise. “And you’d be mine.” It was like your heart exploded in your chest, smiling at him and trying not to act overly excited and frighten him off. “I guess I would be~” Then leaning forward you kissed a couple sweet kisses. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? Not moving too fast?” You ask, concerned that Simon might change his mind all of a sudden and end up hurting you both. “M’sure, babe.” He responded, pressing a sweet kiss to your nose. "You're mine."

Masterlist | Ask | 29-01-2024

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley smut #simon riley fluff #ghost mw3 #ghost call of duty #ghost smut #ghost fluff #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #1k

[cordeliawhohung]

Leftovers [2/3]

Simon Riley x fem!Reader | a non-canon addition to my mafia!141 series

part 1 | part 3

warnings: unhealthy relationships, anxiety and depression, minor smut, possessive Simon, abusive behavior

you're his, now

wc: 4.6k

It had been months since the night your life ended and started again.

For the longest time, you were livid. Inconsolably upset at everything. A special type of betrayal festered in your chest where it rattled and raged against the hollow cavern between your ribs. That betrayal quickly revealed itself to be grief as the days went on. That utter melancholia threatened to suffocate you every time you thought about your old partners, The Prices. How they kept you like a pet, to be played and toyed with. How they decided to have a child without your input. How they only told you when they announced it to all their friends, like you were nothing more than a guest in their lives.

Then, there was Simon. Your savior. Or, at least that’s what he liked to call himself. It didn’t feel like salvation when he ripped you from the grasp of your old partner's bitter and unloving hands, not when you realized the cost of it. Lying wasn’t supposed to be synonymous with loving, and yet it was the very thing that had put you in the palm of Simon’s hands, made you so pliable for him as he fucked and marked you that night, making it impossible for you to ever return to your old life. 

There was nothing but poison waiting for you with your old lovers, if you could even call them that. But being force fed the antidote hurt just as bad when that corruption had become the only comfort you had ever known. 

Simon had a way of making things feel better, which usually consisted of him being anchored between your legs. If there was an issue he couldn’t fix by talking or kissing it away, then he would fuck it out of you, and you hated that it worked as well as it did. When you wanted to be mad at him for lying to you, for tricking you into giving yourself to him, his cock always ended up burrowing into your cunt. Your breath would be lost, stolen from your very lungs, and your words along with it. He had grown to know you so well that he was able to pull orgasms out of you with his eyes closed, rendering your brain numb and incapable of argument or resentment. 

This cycle continued for what felt like forever. Your days would pass by with you rotting in bed in frustration and anguish as you choked on that antidote and feeling of betrayal, and when Simon had enough of your unresponsiveness, he would fuck you into submission. Coo and embrace you like a true lover would. It created some sort of dissonance within your very being. You were supposed to be mad at him for tricking you, and yet it felt divine being held against him. You couldn’t get enough of the searing sensation of his lips along your skin, or his breath caressing your ear as he slept. 

It was agony being torn apart; forever caught between the gravity of your old lovers and the man that stole you from them. 

Eventually, you woke up one day and it didn’t hurt anymore. Whatever frustration or anger that burrowed underneath your skin dissipated; vanished into thin air as if it had never existed in the first place. Things seemed brighter, you cried less, and Simon looked at you with adoration rather than pity for your shattered mental state. 

Perhaps it was the ignorance that made things better. Without any access to the Prices, you had no knowledge at all of how they handled your absence, if they even cared at all. All you knew was that you had managed to find solace within Simon, despite the terrible start to your relationship. He really did take care of you, just like he said he would. He insisted on paying for everything, refusing to let you work, and provided you with everything you would ever need. 

After all, you were his now. 

Which was why you found yourself in front of a boiling pot of water in the kitchen of his apartment. Without the use of your phone, Simon had given you an old CD player to keep you occupied as you cooked or went about your day. Radiohead’s album In Rainbows droned on in the background as you mixed the pasta around the pot to keep them from sticking together. Spicy marinara bubbled on the next burner over, and its heavy aroma hung thick in the air around you, leaving you in a mouthwatering stupor. 

Just as the alarm on the stove went off signaling the pasta was cooked, the deadbolt began to jingle behind you. After you turned the burners off, you quickly slipped out of the kitchen to greet Simon, who flashed you an entertained smirk. Exhaustion pulled at his eyes, yet they always seemed to light up when they landed on you, and you couldn’t help but grin up at him. It wasn’t often that he got home before ten, as his new job often kept him late, so you were ecstatic that he arrived just as you finished cooking up dinner. 

“Smells like you’ve been busy,” he chuckled as he locked the door behind him. 

“I thought I would have to leave some out for you again,” you admitted. His hands found your hips and he drew you closer, catching you in his gravity. “I’m glad you’re home.” 

Before he allowed himself to respond, Simon squeezed your hips as his lips descended onto yours. It was the way he always greeted you when he arrived home from work, like he couldn’t get enough of you, or more accurately, like he knew you couldn’t get enough of him. You could taste the stale cigarettes on his breath, and the slight hint of mint that he used to attempt to cover it, and it took everything in you not to moan at the flavor. He was the one to pull away first, and your lips curved into a smile as his thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your hips. 

“Let’s eat, yeah?” he prompted. 

It didn’t take long for dishes to be served and for both you and Simon to settle on the couch in the living room while some programme droned on in the background. Even during meals you always huddled close to him as if you would die without his heat. Your leg laid pressed against his as you leaned into his side, and had Simon not been as large of a man as he was, you certainly would have smothered him with your presence. 

“How was work?” you questioned once half your plate had been emptied. 

“Was alright,” Simon replied with his mouth full of pasta. “Bit slow.” 

“That why you’re home early?” 

“Mhm.” 

Simon never seemed like much of a talker, and neither were you until recently. A majority of your life had been spent in silent pining for your basic needs and desires, but once Simon had stolen you away, it was like all you ever wanted to do was talk. Perhaps it was because he genuinely seemed to care about what you had to say. Or maybe it was because some sort of loneliness still managed to creep into your life, like a ghost that haunted you. 

“I’m glad you’re home early,” you admitted. “I’ve been missing you all day.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart. I always try to come home as soon as I can,” Simon assured you. 

A twinge of exhaustion lurked underneath his tone, screaming at you that despite the fact he got off early, he certainly had a long day. He always seemed drained after arriving home, proving to you just how hard he worked in order to support you, to give you the life he  told you that you deserved. You always had someone who would crawl into bed with you, someone who wasn’t ashamed to show you affection and love, someone to truly take care of you. Despite the circumstance, Simon was everything you could have ever asked for. Everything you would ever need. 

So why did it feel like something was missing? 

That night after the dishes were washed and the lights were turned down low, you and Simon hid underneath the covers where your limbs intertwined with one another. For some reason he always insisted that you sleep naked, and though you weren’t sure why, you didn’t really mind. In fact, feeling the warmth of his body seep into you was so intoxicating you probably would have come to that conclusion even without his prompting. You couldn’t get enough of his scent, or how his skin felt against yours, and even though the two of you had laid in bed for nearly twenty minutes you buzzed. 

Nothing could satiate your need for him. You wouldn’t be satisfied until you were able to crawl into him and hide yourself away underneath his very flesh. You wanted to shrink yourself down, become some small thing, and tuck yourself into his pocket to be forever stuck with him. A vile yearning for him tainted your very essence, and yet you wished it would destroy you all the same. 

“What’cha so wiggly for?” Simon questioned, half awake yet still teasing. 

“I missed you,” you whined as you buried your face further into his bare chest. 

His chuckle sounded low and grumbly in his throat as his arms wrapped firmly around your center. Wandering hands caressed along your hips and down your thighs, traversing and memorizing every single dimple of your flesh like it was the only story he ever wanted to know. 

“I’m here now, love,” he hummed. 

“I know, I just get so lonely when you’re gone,” you admitted with a pout. “You’re gone forever at work, and I just wanna talk to you. I was thinking that maybe if I had my phone back I could message you-” 

“What did I say about your phone?” 

The tone Simon used to cut you off was sharper than anything you had ever heard from him before, and it stopped you in your tracks. There was a fatigued sort of frustration that drenched his words which left a part of you wishing that you had never opened your mouth in the first place. He was too tired, too irritated to have a conversation, especially one like that, and you were afraid you had pushed his buttons a bit too much. 

You swallowed hard as Simon’s hands moved to your chin, forcing you to look up at him through the dim light rather than keep your face hidden in his chest. Darkness obscured his face, making it near impossible to truly read his expression, and yet you found your bottom lip quivering all the same. 

“Sweetheart,” he urged, softer that time, “what did I say about your phone?” 

“That it’s… better if I don’t have it,” you answered as your teeth bit into the inside of your cheek. 

“Yeah?” His hand moved from your chin to your cheek where his thumb gently rubbed at your skin. The notion was comforting, soothing even, yet you knew he was truly checking for tears. “And why’s that?” 

“Because then the Prices won’t be able to contact me.” 

Just like that, your mood was ruined. Any reminder of your past lovers was a painful one. Even after all those months they still seemed to have some sort of control over you, and the fact that they could sour your mood with just a simple memory was dehumanizing. Your somberness was so potent it exuded from your body like fine mist, and Simon’s caressing of your face increased tenfold in an attempt to calm you before things became catastrophic. You were his sweet, fragile girl, after all. 

“Right. And it’s better that way, isn’t it sweetheart?” he concluded softly. “It’s better here with me, because I take care of you, don’t I? I don’t neglect you, or treat you like some pet.” 

Although he was right, it didn’t make the bitter ache in your chest go away. Simon did his best to sooth the pain with his hands and words, and you shivered as his fingertips traversed from your face, to your shoulders, and down your waist. He had to find some way to distract you, some way to remind you that he was the only one you needed, and that you had to stay far away from Price and his trophy wife. You were too good for them; he needed you to know that. 

“You’re mine, and I’m yours, that’s what we agreed on, yeah?” he continued. His hand began to dip lower, moving from your waist, over your stomach, and between your legs. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers burrowed between your thighs, searching for access to your not quite slick cunt. Your emotions were too high for you to be wet, Simon was well aware, but you both knew he could change that within an instant. “They’ll never see you again, never get to abuse you again because I’m here to protect you. I love you in a way they never did.” 

Right as he spoke those last few words, his fingers greedily swiped against your clit, and your legs had no choice but to fall apart and grant him greater access. A gentle tremor shook the bed as Simon repositioned himself, pushing you on your back so that he could hover over your exposed body like it was a fresh meal just for him. Famished lips descended onto your neck as his fingers prodded against your entrance, forcing your mind to go blank with longing. 

“Needy thing, aren’t you? Need my full attention? I’m sorry, sweetheart, shoulda fucked you the moment I got home, huh? I’m all yours, and you’re all mine. Say it,” Simon urged as he still withheld himself from you. 

Squirming, you reached out for him with wanting hands as you snaked your arms around his neck. This was how he healed you, with his fingers teasing your cunt and his saccharine words plugging your ears. There was nothing else in the world you needed besides Simon. Every chord of your body yearned for him as if he was the only sustenance your body craved. This was how he healed you. With honeyed words and a worshiping mantra reminding you of who you belonged to. 

“I’m yours.” 

That night only added on to the other countless evenings spent with Simon tucked between your legs to voraciously consume you whole. There was no thinking to be done when he could mercifully do it for you, and you were content with that. At least, you thought you were. Things always became difficult when Simon vanished off to work, and he would do his best to make it up to you when he arrived home, to distract you from the empty feeling that seemed to fester inside of your chest. But no matter what he gave you, what he did for you when he was home, your mind always wandered when he was away. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you lived with the Prices, how cold and lonely that house was, and how colder still your lovers were. Mr. Price — no, John — had sent you over to Simon like a bitch; some obedient pup meant for entertaining but not for loving, and it didn’t make sense. He had sent you over to comfort Simon so flippantly, yet acted as if the world had ended when you never returned back to them that terrible night. Was there some sort of miscommunication? Was that never his intention at all? And still, they left you out of the imperative conversation about their pregnancy like it never concerned you at all. 

You were spiraling again, and Simon was able to pick up on it just as easily as he could sniff out a bad wound. He could only keep you caged up so long, and he knew he needed to remedy it before he was back at the beginning with you. So you shouldn’t have been surprised when he arrived home one day with a gift. Beautiful, blush pink cloth sewn into a perfect sundress sat underneath delicate tissue paper, and you had a hard time hiding your awe and surprise when you revealed the astonishing dress. Simon’s eyes seemed more dilated than normal when he saw you hold it up to your body, and you caught onto his small smirk. 

Without hesitation, you slipped into the dress at his prompting, and you were ecstatic to find that it fit perfectly. Simon had gotten used to your sizing after having to buy you a whole new wardrobe after you escaped the Prices, but even then you were impressed at how well it formed to your measurements. It was as if Simon had every inch of your body memorized after the months you had spent together to the point that there was no way he could mess up your sizing. You couldn’t help but smile knowing that no one else had ever done that for you before.

It didn’t end there. With Simon having to work longer hours that night than normal, he insisted on taking you out to lunch, which was something you couldn’t ever recall doing. Ages had passed since you had even stepped foot out of Simon’s apartment, and you couldn’t remember the last time you felt the sun on your skin. You didn’t know why he hadn’t taken you out sooner, but if you had to guess, you were certain it was for the same reason he did everything else; to keep you safe from the Prices. 

The restaurant Simon took you to was the fanciest you had ever seen before. Several art pieces adorned the walls with such vibrant shades you were convinced that the art itself cost more than whatever it took for them to construct the building itself. Crystal chandeliers hung high above your heads, and before either of you could order the waiter had filled your glasses with the finest of wines. The menu itself didn’t even have any prices, but Simon didn’t seem at all concerned with it, and insisted that you ordered whatever you wanted. 

There was something deliciously domestic about being there with him. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you, that much was evident, but there was something exciting about being able to show that fact in public. To prove that someone loved you enough to show it off, rather than hide you away. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t wipe that grin off your face as the two of you talked about nothing while eating the mouthwatering meals on your plates. For a moment, you two were the only beings in the world. 

For a moment. 

A flash of something caught your attention. Maybe it was a giggle, or the cooing and awing, but all you knew was that your eyes suddenly glued themselves on the patrons a few tables away from you. For a split second, you thought you saw them. John and his wife. It wasn’t them at all, but you realized you only feared that because this woman, this beautiful woman with her glowing skin and healthy laugh, was pregnant. Obviously so, too, as her stomach swelled and stretched with the growing life inside of her. Her husband could hardly take his eyes off of her, constantly reaching across the table to hold her hand despite her attempt at trying to enjoy her lunch. It was… stomach lurching. 

By that point, Mrs. Price would be four months along. Or, no, more than that for sure. It had been four months since you had been taken from them, since you had even heard from them. Four months without closure, or the opportunity to talk and get answers. A part of you needed to know why things happened the way they did, but you were completely in the dark. All you had received was whatever Simon spoon fed you, but it wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure if it would ever be enough. Maybe you had been empty for too long to ever be full again. 

“Everythin’ alright, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes tore away from the unsuspecting couple and landed back on Simon. He studied you carefully with a neutral expression, but you saw the slight press of his lips. Dark red wine faintly stained his pale skin, yet you couldn’t find yourself able to appreciate the beauty of it. All you had was a rotten feeling in your stomach and the sudden urge to vomit. 

“Yeah, of course,” you lied. 

Things got bad again when Simon left for work that night. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wouldn’t be home until late that made your brain ceaselessly buzz. Or maybe it was the image of that pregnant woman at the restaurant, the one that reminded you of the suffering you had to endure all those months ago. You attempted to silence that incessant sound in your mind as best as you could, because you knew you couldn’t afford to blow up, so you did anything to distract yourself. Music blasted through the CD player louder than it ever had, certainly to the annoyance of your neighbors, but for once you found yourself incapable of caring about anyone but yourself. 

When that didn’t work, you put on a movie instead. It wasn’t one you recognized, just something you had flipped to when you were browsing through streaming services. You had gotten dressed in one of Simon’s plain tees in an attempt to drown yourself in his scent, and yet that didn’t dull the ache either. All you could think of while the images flashed in front of you on the screen were the movie nights at the Prices. How John would make you cuddle up next to Simon, how the only comfort you could find was in his beating heart as he held you close to him…

There had to be a reason for it all. 

When the movie ended and there was nothing to accompany you but silence and the sound of your own breathing, that’s when you knew you couldn’t handle it anymore. You needed something. You needed answers. 

Like a feral rat, you began to search every nook and cranny of the apartment for your phone. If you could find it, maybe you could get some answers from John. Even if Simon said it was bad for you, you knew you needed closure, no matter how much it hurt. Wherever Simon had put it, it was well hidden. You nearly tore apart his dresser, every drawer in the kitchen, the corners of the bedroom closet; everywhere you could think of, and it wasn’t there. 

Just when you were about ready to tear the floor up, you finally found it. Really, you had half expected him to have thrown it away, yet there it sat underneath the bathroom vanity, hidden behind a myriad of cleaning supplies so far back the overhead light couldn’t illuminate it. When you finally had it in your grasp, you nearly cried, and you weren’t sure why. A fit of emotions bubbled in your stomach, each of them violently conflicting, yet frustration took over when you attempted to turn the phone on and the screen wouldn’t light up. Of course it wouldn’t, it hadn’t been used for months. 

Rushing off to the bedroom, you quickly borrowed Simon’s charger and let your phone sit on the nightstand as it ever so slowly charged. Answers almost within your reach, and yet your anxiety bubbled up more than ever as you waited for that black screen to flicker to life. 

It took ages for the thing to fully load up once it was charged enough to turn on, and you held the device in your shaking hands. All your old apps appeared on the screen, countless pictures that you had taken over the years, but the most eyecatching of them all was the amount of notifications you had for your text messages. 172, all within the last four months. 

When you clicked on the app, you quickly realized that all of those messages had been sent by John, and you hated the way your stomach dropped. But this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Answers? To have him explain why he did what he did? To make it stop hurting? With a heavy breath, you clicked on his name, and the app instantly scrolled up to the very first message he had sent in his cluster over the last few months, and it was then that you noticed something was wrong. Just before his onslaught of messages, there was a reply sent by you, one you didn’t remember sending. 

Don’t contact me again. 

This wasn’t you. That had to have been Simon, because he had taken your phone from you before you ever got the chance to respond to them yourself. Their worried messages, their pleading for you to come home, to know that you were okay. It didn’t work, obviously. The next few messages after that one was full of John pleading to speak with you, of several missed calls, of him apologizing for anything they did to upset you. The texts dated back only hours, sometimes minutes apart, and it was strange. You had never seen him so desperate before. Not for you. 

Eventually they seemed to stop for a while, only to start back up again weeks later. There were plenty of comments saying how much they missed you, how they wished you would change your mind and come home, and it felt… wrong. Hadn’t Simon told them that you were with him? He told you he did. He had even quit his job with Price because he didn’t want any bad blood, so why did they act as if you were lost? Like they didn’t know where you were at? 

Confused, you continued scrolling, eyes glossing over at the repetitive messages, until eventually you stumbled across pictures. Baby clothes. Cute little shoes. Ultrasounds. Pregnancy announcements. A gender reveal. They were having a girl, and they painted the nursery a cute shade of pink, just like the dress Simon had gotten for you that day. And then there was a video. It was short, and though it wasn’t visually stimulating, it had a rhythmic pulse accompanying the audio. The baby’s heartbeat. 

Wish you were here to share these moments with us. 

You weren’t able to stop the tears streaming down your face, or the food that came back up to say hello. Indignifying as it was, you sobbed on the cold bathroom floor as you vomited and continued to dry heave the emptied contents of your stomach. Everything crashed down on you all at once, and yet you felt numb at the same time. Nothing made sense. Why were they still trying to talk to you after all that time, like there was still a chance you would return? 

Then, you suddenly thought back to the morning Simon admitted his lie to you. How he had done it so easily and without remorse. How he grabbed at your cunt like he… owned you. You would have thrown up again at that thought if you had more food in your stomach, but you instead rose from the cold tile to rinse your mouth. You didn’t feel like a lover. You didn’t feel cared for. For the first time in months, you felt like a pet. 

So you did the only thing you had ever been good at doing: you ran. You ran just like you did back at John’s club, and every other time your emotions conflicted so bad you swore you would die. After you gathered a small bag full of personal items, your phone and wallet included, you rushed out the door and didn’t bother to look back as it closed behind you. 

an: this was only ever supposed to be a one shot, but i decided to expand on the story a little more, as i felt the first part wasn't able to fully convey the story i was trying to tell. once the 3rd part is posted though, that'll be it, so please don't harass me about more parts again (: gives me anxiety

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #f!reader

[konigenblobbity]

You think I wouldn’t know?

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader

18+ MINORS DNI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kalimarinu]

close call.

[ summary : reader gets trapped, their fellow soldiers save them. ]

[ relationships : tf141 x gn!reader (platonic) ]

[ warnings : 2nd person pov , gn reader 🤍 , use of y/n (your name) & c/n (codename/callsign) , (leg) injuries , more than needed description of the injuries & pain , a lot of writing about reader , many inaccuracies whoops sorry! ]

[ word count : 1,930 ]

[ notes : i really need to stop procrastinating,!! but wow a proper fic this time around.. also!! i'm so sorry ghost lovers he's barely mentioned + thesaurus my beloved <3 i swear i proofread this 100 times if it still has ONE mistake i'm so sorry but i'm gonna cry now. > ver inspired by the AMAZING WONDERFUL WRITER @python333 < please please please go check their lovely works out or else ill break your ankles coryxkenshin style (EMMM IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO TAKE INSPO FROM YER WRITING JUST LMK !!! I'LL TAKE THIS DOWN!!,,..) ]

This was a predicament. Just some minutes into a mission, you had gotten separated from the rest. You can barely recall how or why, besides the memories of running for safety. You just knew you were trapped now. Trapped in some rugged building, not even sure how far you got from your comrades or your objective. It’s quiet inside, not silent, but much less noisy than a few minutes ago. You’re far enough away from everyone that you can’t distinctively hear the shouting of soldiers and the sounds of gunfire. And just like in some stupid action movie, of course some random heavy objects fell on you and got you stuck.

As a result of dashing away from the danger into a building and also stupidly looking back just to check if you were safe, you barely noticed a concrete pillar in front of you. In a split second, you ended up on the creaky, wooden floor, and you swear you can somehow feel a bruise forming on your forehead. However, the ringing in your ears and the throbbing pain in your head felt like nothing when a sharp pain suddenly surges through you. Your instincts immediately make you shout, and there’s a moment where your voice ripples throughout the room until you bring yourself to finally focus your eyes on the gaping hole in the ceiling and then the pile of rubble piled atop your right leg that seemed to have just materialized on you.

The jagged edges of the rocks ripped through your uniform, and there was a prominent burning but somehow cold sensation right around your ankle and thigh, but to you, you could feel the ache everywhere. You attempt to shift your leg around to get more comfortable— more comfortable than you are right now at least, but you can feel the sharp edges of the rocks dig deeper into your skin. To you, it feels like a thousand giant hornets stung you and then got pounded by a sledgehammer— but all the pain is just focused on those two spots. You try not to panic but you swear you can feel something piercing a tissue of muscle or something, just the grotesque thought of skin, your skin and muscle getting ripped open by a slab of stone makes you want to throw up— but you’re sure you’re exaggerating. That thought is pushed aside by the reminder of the agony your nerves are enduring, making you almost cry out again— but you’re able to push it down enough that it just comes out as a deep groan.

“It’s not that bad. Just stop thinking about it.” You mumble mindlessly, like voicing your thoughts out loud would make it better. You try to calm yourself down— to remind yourself you’re still alive and breathing, despite the fact there are parts of rock buried deep in the flesh and some of your bones have probably snapped in two from the weight dropped onto you. A few deep breaths later and you think you’re composed, at least relaxed enough that you can figure out a way to get your leg dislodged and yourself out of this building safely.

“Just need to… push this off.” You try to reassure yourself as you prop your body up, reaching an arm over in a struggle to push some of the debris off your leg, but it’s no use. Attempting to shove the rubble to the side. Lifting some up and then pushing it. Using both arms. Trying to kick one of the bigger ones off with your other leg. Adjusting your lower half again regardless of how much it hurt to move last time— then doing everything all over again. Nothing. The mound is too heavy. 

Again, you inhale in and out a couple more times, trying not to stress and drown yourself in hysteria. Once in a state of enough calm again, your mind scrambles to search for ideas to get out of the situation despite the pounding in your head from earlier. Your earpiece. Your hand immediately shoots up to grab where your earpiece should be, but your fingers don’t feel the cold material. Your eyes widen and your stomach churns at the chance it somehow slipped out of your ear when you were running. You survey the area, but the floor just consists of dust, other sorts of clutter, and no earpiece. ‘It has to be around here.’ You look around you multiple times, over and over again, like the small device is going to suddenly appear in front of you.

The realization that you don’t have your earpiece has you fearing for your life again— you don’t even know how you didn’t notice that there was no familiar voice of your captain saying, “C/N, do you copy?” Or maybe your lieutenant randomly saying some corny jokes. Probably your only chance of getting out of here alive was gone. You know you shouldn’t give up so easily— to keep trying, but you felt like there was already zero hope. You’re going to bleed out and die right here, you’re sure it’s the end. You think you should accept your fate and just wait here patiently to die, but still, you’re holding on to the probably last shred of energy and life you still have in your body. Just in case, maybe with some miracle, you’ll get out, somehow.

And so you wait, and it feels like hours. It feels like days, years, but it’s probably only been thirty minutes you’ve been sitting. Sitting there, the pain in your head wearing off but the throbbing in your leg getting worse by the second. The heft of it all just makes your entire nervous system scream in pain. Now you feel like you should’ve appreciated that adrenaline a lot more because now that it’s worn off, your ankle feels like it’s being crushed by an anvil and your thigh feels like it's been penetrated by a huge nail.

You kind of regret the decision of not yelling— calling for help, so maybe someone would find you. That should’ve been your first option, but now you can’t seem to say anything, like someone had ripped your vocal cords out and on top of that duct-taped your mouth shut. You’ve lost enough blood that you’ve lost all of the energy you thought you had earlier, and you can slightly see the bottom of the large rock on your thigh being tainted with a deep red. And you’re sure the one on your ankle has been bloodied too.

“C/N? C/N!?” Suddenly a recognizable voice yells out your callsign— tone frantic but somehow still gentle, and glazed with a British accent. It interrupts your thoughts and in a dire attempt to let them know you’re here, trapped, you try to use all the power in your body to try and call back, but only a quiet, almost silent whimper comes out but you don’t think they even heard it. “Y/N, are you there?—” They cut themselves off and you hope it’s from shock, surprise as they see you, disheveled and bruised. And now you’re sure they have because whoever it is comes running to you, shouting for other people. “Guys, they’re in here!” They say, and you can feel them grab and squeeze your hand tightly, so tight now you think the bones in your legs aren’t the only things that are broken.

“Did -ou call th- p-ra-edics alre-dy, Gh-st?” “-ou’re g-ing to be -kay, -eah?” You can barely pick up anything now, but you can tell there are multiple voices now, one gruff and the other having a heavy Scottish accent. You feel like you’re going deaf, the noise around you going muffled and you finally realize you’ve been slipping in and out of consciousness. When your head lolls and you can briefly feel your chin against the in-between area of your collarbones, that definitely makes it apparent, to yourself and to the people around you. Your vision turns foggy almost every other second, and you see black and white dots dancing around your eyesight until it fully turns dark. All the commotion around you goes faint and you want to stay awake when you feel your hand get squeezed again, but oh god you can’t because you feel so nauseous and dizzy like you’re going to vomit and—

In just a flash, you wake up with a small and quiet gasp— your sight blurry and all you can see is white along with some slight movements, and a consistent beeping noise in the background. You slowly sit up, grimacing as a brief pain radiates from your right leg again, but then let out a relieved sigh as you can feel it dull down again, which your assumption for that is medical drugs, thank God for those. Your eyes finally focus just enough for you to know what’s around the room— and you grasp the fact that you’re in a medical bed, your body from the waist down covered in thin, pale sheets. The bright white lights of the med bay shine down on you, an ECG monitor to the right of your bed, and there's an analog clock hung up on the wall in front of you. You think it reads somewhere around 11:30 P.M. You're also kind of grateful now that you didn't stay conscious when your legs were freed from the rocks because they feel almost mangled in spite of the bandages.

Never mind your injuries for now— because your eyes land on the men to your left, all four of them sleeping sitting up in blue metal chairs. You recognize them, you know them. There's no mistaking that out-of-place skull mask, that silly-looking mohawk, the person wearing sunglasses inside of a hospital, and lastly, the man with the boonie hat that he never takes off. “Cap?” You quietly say, your voice (thankfully) restored now. “Johnny?” You call out to your sergeant instead, and he mumbles something under his breath as he starts to wake up, but his grogginess almost instantly fades away when he realizes you’re conscious. “Y/N?” Soap responds back, and you barely have any moment to respond with another word because he practically dashes and pulls you into an embrace. You almost wince at how tight he’s hugging you, but you grin and squeeze him back.

A throaty voice breaks the silence, saying, “Stand down, sergeant. They’re still hurt ya know?” You assume it’s your captain— who you didn’t know had already woken up in that short span of time. He gets up from his chair and walks over to you until he’s at the side of your medical bed, right next where Soap is still hugging you. You can tell Price is relieved you’re okay, but you also know he’s trying to keep his composure and not reveal all his worry. “You alright, soldier?” He asks you, attempting to pry Johnny off your body, huffing when he just latches on harder. You answer with a simple, “Aye, sir.” As the man clinging to you finally lets go. “I almost bled out there, damn. That was a close call.” You finally say after a few moments of silence, and you’re sure Price and Soap have the same exact thought in their minds. “And so would the others, if they were awake.” Price adds with a chuckle, turning his head to glance over to the other two, still sound and sleeping.

#;;mar.writes #soap mactavish #john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #gn reader #g/n reader #x reader #x character #reader x character #call of duty #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty mw #platonic #platonic x reader #platonic relationships #gender neutral reader #cod #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #tf141 x reader #tf141 x you

[ficmashup]

A Trip to Scotland

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Sort of sequel to Taken, but this is the trip to Scotland (obviously, given the title) but I'm gonna let it stand along as it's own thing. Nearly panicked this week because my laptop charger died on me and had to immediately order another, but so relieved to have my writing back again. So this is a bit of a celebration. Don't think I'm quite done with G and Price yet, but I might write for someone else soon. Still thinking on it. ;)

Warnings: Hm, language? Fluff. Not many warnings this go round. Not beta'd.

Word Count: 4.5K

Masterlist

“So what exactly should I be preparing myself for?” I ask as I tuck away a few folded clothes into my duffel with a glance to John sitting on the chest at the end of the bed. We’re back home and I’m packing a few last-minute things before heading out for my flight. It took the entire few days to convince Soap that I didn’t need him at my side 24/7 to ferry me home, then to Scotland. So he’s already there eagerly awaiting the time to pick me up from the airport. At least according to the dozen text messages he’s already sent me today.

John smiles and shakes his head. “Soap’s family is alright. A bit much all at once, but they’re good people and I’ve little doubt you’ll get along.” There’s laughter in his voice that makes me raise a brow at him, but I let it slide. I’m sure I’ll find out what he means soon enough. I zip up my bag and he’s instantly on his feet to take it before I even touch the handles. My eyes roll even as I smile and begrudgingly take my crutch to shuffle into the kitchen.

“Three older sisters, right?” I ask as I settle on a stool and John sets my bag by the door.

He nods and moves towards me. “Three older sisters. He’s the baby, which explains a lot.” I smirk as he stops next to me and I reach out, pulling him closer by the hem of his shirt. His smile sweetens and his hand lifts, pushing my hair back as his thumb brushes over my cheek. “I’ll miss this.” He says softly, almost unintentionally, and I smile as I lean into his touch.

“Mm. The feeling is mutual.” This thing between us is still so new and shiny, I’d be happy sitting and staring at him do literally anything. Which is another reason why this little separation is a good idea. If I get any sappier, then I’m going to make myself sick. “I’ll text you updates and call you when I can?” I say the last part a bit hesitantly, not sure if it’s too much too soon.

“Sounds good. Good luck finding a moment alone in that house though.” He says with a smirk and once again I’m struck by the notion that he’s not telling me all that he could. My mouth opens to ask when there’s a knock at the door. My brows furrow and I become even more suspicious when John’s smile widens. “I’ll get it.” He presses a kiss to my lips and lingers a bit as my fingers curl into his shirt. He hums softly against my mouth and the pressure of the kiss increases before he pulls away, his hand kneading my skin lightly before he reluctantly walks to the door. I watch with a smirk before the door opens and surprise makes my expression go blank.

Simon shakes Price’s hand before looking at me with smug humor in his eyes. “Ready for our flight, G?”

I raise a brow as my eyes go wide. “Our flight? You’re shitting me.” I look between both men who simply smirk. My accusing gaze settles heavy on John. “Who was it that decided that I needed babysitting on a fucking hour long flight?” There’s no heat in my tone, but it gives me some pleasure to see Price shift his weight onto his back foot.

“Majority vote, G. Aren’t you glad for my company?” Simon teases flatly and it’s at least a treat to see his eyes sparkling so brightly. Even if it is at my expense.

“Mm. It’s nice having a pack mule, I suppose.” I tease him right back as he grabs my bag and easily heaves it over his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. My gaze goes back to John. “Suppose you can walk us out then, Captain.” I emphasize his title, letting him know that with Simon here, that’s the only goodbye that he’s going to get. He chuckles and ducks out next to Simon while I lock the door behind me.

“Go on, we’ll go slow and meet you outside.” Price pats Simon on the shoulder and he doesn’t pause, happy to keep moving on a mission as he slips down the stairs. My head shakes even as I smile and tuck my keys away as we move slowly down the hall.

“You realize that out of everyone, he probably already knows.” I say quietly and wrap my arm around his, letting him support me more than the crutch as we take our time walking down the hall.

John smiles and half-shrugs a shoulder. “Probably, yes. But he’s the least likely to say something as long as he knows we want things quiet.” He reaches forward and presses the button for the lift, his smile widening when he hears my impatient sigh at having to wait for the tiny box. If I could walk, I’d be headed for the stairs after Simon.

“You’re still happy with that?” I glance up at him as there’s a little ding and we step onto the lift.

He meets my gaze. “I am. But I’m glad to talk it through if you’ve changed your mind.”

My head shakes and I take the time to let my fingers rub over the inside of his arm, taking in the feeling of his skin. “No, I like the way things are. Though we should talk about what we’ll say…eventually.” There’s little doubt in my mind that they’ll figure things out sooner rather than later. Although we might last a little longer if Simon decides to work with us and throw the others off the scent.

“Something to think about while we’re apart.” He sounds a touch disgruntled this time and even though I feel the same, I do get a little thrill at knowing he’ll miss me.

“So…are you going to kiss me before the lift stops?” I relish the surprise that widens his eyes, then the cute crinkling of his eyes as he turns towards me. He reaches out and presses the buttons for the last few floors so we’ll make a stop at each one.

He turns towards me and I can’t help smiling as he tilts my chin up. “Do you want me to?”

“What do you think?” I keep my voice low and cloying, unable to help teasing him as he stoops a bit so his lips are an inch from mine. We take small, slow steps back until I can feel the wall behind me and my hand claims the handrail to keep me steady on one foot.

“Like hearing you tell me yes.” He murmurs and I breathe in that distinct scent of cigars as he practically speaks onto my lips.

“Pretty sure you hear me chirp ‘yes sir’ almost every day at work.” I whisper back, smirking as my other hand rests on his side to pull him closer, feeling his heat searing my hand through his shirt.

His head shakes, his nose almost brushing mine with each movement. “Not the same. Like hearing you ask me for things. Like giving you what you want.” Warmth fills my chest at the simple, sweet sentiment. I know the words will loop in my head later when I’m alone in bed, wandering if he’s the same way in other areas.

“And I like making you wait.” I tease again and my toes curl at the deep, rumbling laugh that makes his chest vibrate.

“You’re about to make both of us wait for two weeks. Can’t take it easy on me this once?” He raises a brow and I grin, pulling him in and pressing my lips to his. As always, his mouth is soft and warm on mine and fills me with slow heat with every touch. It’s easy and slow and I like that he takes his time making me melt into his hands. My head tilts to give him permission to deepen the kiss and he pauses for a moment, making sure I mean it, then pushes in again.

His hands frame my face and my stomach flips when I feel his calluses sliding against my skin. My lips part as I feel nothing but the wall behind me and the intense heat of him in front of me. His tongue tentatively glides over my bottom lip and I melt even further against him, pulling on his shirt as a silent plea for more. I’m only vaguely aware of the first ding of the lift as it stops and the door opens, but John treats this as a warning that our time is becoming shorter. This is new territory for us and it makes me think I may have underestimated how he might feel about being apart for two weeks. “So sweet f’me.” He mumbles into my mouth before giving me another firm kiss.

I huff softly, making a fist in his shirt as the doors close and the lift moves again. “Mean to tease like this before I leave.”

He smiles and I like tasting it. “You asked for it.”

“I asked for a kiss.”

“And I gave you one.”

“That was…more than a kiss.”

“Are you disapproving?”

The doors ding before opening again and I know the next time they open, we’ll have to get off. “No. I am debating on what it might take for Simon to let us do this in the back of the car on the way to the airport.” His eyes widen for a moment, then he’s laughing and I’m soaking in the sound.

“Hm, don’t think he’d put up with that, sugar. Tempting as it is.” His thumbs brush over my cheeks before reluctantly stepping back after making sure I’m steady on my feet.

“Pity.” I sigh and straighten out his shirt with a smirk as we come to the bottom floor and walk out. Simon has already tossed my back in the back and has a hand on the passenger side door. My head shakes, but I walk over and let him open my door, pretending not to notice his hand hovering over the small of my back as I slide in the seat. He and Price shake hands and pat each other’s shoulders before he continues to walk around to the driver’s side. My eyes soften as I look out at Price and give him a playful salute to see him smile before we pull out.

*     *     *

It becomes clear to me almost immediately that Simon isn’t a fan of public flights. It’s not a surprise given the cramped space filled with people, my head is on a swivel too, but we quickly fall into an easy pattern of covering for the other. If one of us needs to talk to someone, then the other moves behind and watches their back. It affords the both of us a little extra comfort and it’s easy letting him carry our bags. I think he likes having the added weight to steady him and it does make it easier for me to walk.

As we settle into our seats and my hand slides over his arm to try and leech out some of the stiffness, I’m not sure whether he was actually sent to help me or for me to help him. I reach into my carry on and immediately perk up when I find a little bag of hard candies inside. John or Kyle slipped them in there no doubt. I take one for myself, then offer the bag to Simon. He laxes a bit and smirks, accepting the offering and popping it into his mouth.

“You’ve been here before, yeah?” I ask softly, incredibly thankful that there’s no one else in our row.

He nods and moves the candy into his cheek. “Scotland or the MacTavish’s?”

My eyes roll. “Pretty sure you’d have to have been to Scotland in order to have been to the MacTavish’s.”

“Mm. There a question in there?” He shifts in his seat, frowning at the lack of space for his broad body.

“What do you think of them?” I fish for a little information, maybe what John didn’t want to tell me, and also just to keep his discomfort level low.

The frown on his face fades as the corner of his mouth twitches and amusement glimmers in his eyes. “They’re good people. A lot like Soap in all the best ways. A bit noisy when you first meet all of them, especially if they bring their families and little ones, but eventually it becomes a pleasant buzz in the background.”

My brows furrow. “How many people are going to be there?”

His smile widens a touch. “The entire family gets together on the weekends, so you’ll meet everyone.” I breathe out, long and slow, promising myself that John will be getting an earful about leaving out that particular detail. Especially since it’s Saturday, so I’m really being shoved into the lion’s den.

*     *     *

Simon knocks on the front door before deftly moving behind me as it swings open to reveal a grinning Soap. “G! Glad you finally—”

“Is that the famous G we’ve heard so much about?” A voice cuts him off and she sounds like an older woman, probably his mother. My eyebrows raise at hearing that I’m apparently famous. I’m not sure whether to be worried or flattered.

“Get her in here! I’ve been dying to meet her!”

“JJ, you’re blocking the entire doorframe with your fat head. Move over!”

I’m assaulted by a chorus of women’s voices before someone slides over and bumps Soap with her hip while holding a baby on the other side. She’s probably in her upper thirties. “Well, let her in! Thought the military was supposed to teach you manners?” Her smile is wide and pretty, like Soap’s, and her dark curly hair is wild even though it’s cut at her jaw. Just out of reach from the baby in her arms. “Come on in, G, we’ve heard so much about you. Glad you made it too, Simon.” She practically shoves Soap out of the way to make room for Simon and I to step in. He keeps to my back and I’m not sure if it’s to make sure that I don’t fall over or to make sure I don’t turn right back around.

“Thanks for havin’ me.” Simon says and the woman shakes her head as if he says this every time and it isn’t necessary. Decorations from the winter holidays are still up and most every other surface is covered with a toy, a child, or another family member. I release a long breath and feel Simon brace a hand high on my back as if reminding me I have back-up.

“I’m Shiloh.” The woman with wild curls introduces herself while easily holding her kid with an arm and offering her free hand to me. I shake it with what I hope is a smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Pleasure meeting you all as well.” I manage to respond as another woman pops up from sitting on the floor amongst the kids. She has wild curls too, but her hair has a red tint and she’s a touch shorter. Probably mid-thirties.

“Sorry, we know it’s a lot when you first come in, but we’re so happy you’re here!” She shakes my hand with a bit more vigor, her smile bright and wide with sparkling eyes. “You were all JJ talked about when you joined the team and we’re glad you turned out to have a brain.” She gives Simon a pointed look and I’m pretty sure he smothers a chuckle at the firm look. “I’m Shaye, by the way.”

“Let the woman sit, she shouldn’t be on her leg!” An older woman with greying russet hair and round curves waves everyone away as she walks over to me and my eyes go wide as she frames my face with her hands. She’s short and I have to lean down a bit as she draws me close. “It’s so good to have you here with us, lass. So good.” And I can tell she means the sentiment as her eyes crinkle at the sides as she appraises me. She plants a firm kiss to my cheek before reaching behind me and patting Simon’s cheek, then stepping back. “I’m John’s mother. Call me Grace. His father is out back with the rest of the riff raff, but they’ll be in a little later. Go on, pick a place to settle and we’ll kick out whoever is sitting there.”

“Good luck getting Uncle Mick out of his seat.” Soap mutters to Shaye and she grins while looking over at a man snoring softly in an armchair. I’m only half aware of walking over to what seems like the least obtrusive seat, a stool at the counter overlooking the kitchen, and Simon settles next to me. He immediately pulls my foot into his lap to make sure I keep it elevated while I give him a sharp look that only makes him smirk.

“My youngest girl is out trying to wrangle the men into actually cookin’ things on time, but the meal’ll be done soon enough. Just make yourself at home.” Grace says warmly before flitting around the kitchen once again.

“Smells good as always.” Simon says and earns a wide smile from her and an eyeroll from Soap standing beside him. The room is filled with soft conversation and it’s a relief that no one tries to pull me into any for a while. I’m allowed to sit and survey while my mind sorts through the faces, the sounds, and the comforting mess accompanying a large family. There are two toddlers on the floor and a baby passed between the few milling around the room. Apparently, there are more kids out back with their dads and another baby only a few months old, but I’m content letting them come to me rather than seeking them out.

Eventually everyone filters inside and I get to meet Soap’s youngest sister, Siobhan, whose cheeks are rosy from the chill outside. Her eyes light up the second she sees me and she rushes over, stopping just a second before crashing into me to shake my hand. She’s got to be close to Soap’s age. “You must be G! Thanks for keeping my brother in one piece out there.” She winks at me, her bubbly attitude sobering a touch. “It’s a real comfort for all of us knowing he’s got another person watching his back.” Her hand squeezes my arm before she’s called away and I stare after her, feeling warm and surprised.

I feel Ghost’s eyes on me and glance at him to see his eyes crinkled slightly with a soft smile. He nods once. It was like this for him too, then. “I’m gonna give you all such shit for not warning me about all this sooner.” I mutter under my breath, obviously not meaning a word, and he chuckles softly.

“Looking forward to it.” He returns with a twinkle in his eye.

Soap walks over with a fussing baby swaddled up in his arms, this must be the one that had been outside, and slaps Simon’s shoulder. “Dad wants you for a minute.” Simon nods and gently gets up to his feet as Soap takes his place on the stool holding my ankle. I huff.

“Pretty sure there are plenty of children here for you to babysit. I’m fine here.” They glance at one another before shrugging and doing exactly the same thing that they were doing. My head shakes, but I don’t bother objecting more.

“John, can you grab that for me?” His mother asks from the kitchen and he hesitates, looking at me.

I wave him on with a little roll of my eyes. “Promise I won’t move from this spot.” I swear and he smirks before hopping up and setting my foot slowly on the stool so I’m not jostled. He pauses another second and my stomach swirls at seeing the mischief building in his eyes as he steps close and ever so gently lowers the baby into my stiff arms. My head instantly starts shaking as she squawks and her face pinches at the exchange. “Johnny, don’t you dare—”

“Only for a minute, G. Just don’t stand up because you have poor balance right now. Wouldn’t want to risk the bearn.” He grins at me and slides into the kitchen while I stare down at the tiny human now in my arms. I…I’m actually not sure if I’ve ever held a baby in my life. I shift her a bit and pull her close with my arms firm but not too tight around her. She coos and I instinctively start swaying a little in my seat.

“I know, I’m sorry your mean Uncle Soap gave you to some strange lady. A very not cool uncle thing of him to do.” I whisper softly, feeling her weight and warmth sink into my chest. Her blinks get a little slower and I can’t help smiling down at her. Maybe this isn’t too bad. “Must be pretty nice getting held and rocked all the time. Take advantage of it while you can.” I relax a little more and lean back in my seat while continuing to bounce her a little until her eyes are shut and her little mouth is left open. I wonder briefly if this is how Johnny looked as a baby and my smile widens at the thought.

Soap comes back over, but doesn’t reach for her so I don’t make a move to give her back. “Seems you’ve got the special touch. She usually fights sleep a bit harder.”

“Mm. Bet you weren’t this cute when you were a baby.” I tease and he grins, shaking his head.

“Agreed. Especially with the tiny mohawk. Probably stuck up all over the place.” I laugh softly, careful not to move or make too much noise.

Shiloh comes over and Soap makes space for her as she sighs with relief. “Thank god you got her down. We were a few minutes off from full screamin’.” Still, she smiles softly as she looks down at the little bundle.

“Why don’t you head up early tonight? The bearns’ll be looked after.” Soap encourages softly and the warmth in my chest only spreads when I recognize the same tone he used with me to get me to go to bed after a hard mission.

She smiles and sways into him. “You and my husband, I swear. But I know you’re just trying to get me away from G before I tell her what an idiot you were when you were younger.” Her hand musses his hair and he ducks away with a small groan.

“More of an idiot than now?” I ask with a brow lifting and Soap gives me a disapproving look that I grin at.

Shiloh nods. “Oh yeah. We once convinced him that we could all fly but him and he jumped off the roof to try and prove that he could too. Broke his arm.” She giggles while my eyes go wide and I choke while trying swallow my laughter. Soap sighs and tosses his arms in the air, subtly showing her his middle finger out of sight from his mother as he walks away.

The evening goes on and eventually I’m relieved of my babysitting duties only to find Simon across the room with a plastic screwdriver in his hand being instructed by one of the young boys. He’s utterly patient and seems to be taking his task quite seriously. I might snap a picture or two to show John later and for Simon to keep. I think he’d like having them.

Dinner is as raucous as I expected it to be, but I’m a bit more used to it now. The noise is joyous and the room is filled with loud voices and laughter. This isn’t something I’ve ever had and it helps to have Simon beside me as a steady, familiar anchor. But it’s nice. I like the way they argue with grins on their faces, how they laugh without restraint, how warm and welcoming everyone is.

Afterward, I manage to slip outside and I’m greeted by the cool night air. I hadn’t realized how hot the house had gotten with all the people inside. I pull out my phone as I sit on the front porch and call John, smiling when it only rings once before he picks up. “Hey, sugar. How’s it going?” Just the sound of his voice makes me feel a little fuzzy inside.

“It’s good. They’re a lot like I thought they’d be, but…more.”

He chuckles and I imagine him stretching out on his couch, leaned back against the cushions with his hands resting on his spread thighs. “That describes the MacTavish’s pretty well, I think. Never could do anything half-heartedly.”

“Mm. I haven’t been around a family like this in a long time. Since before I joined the military. It’s a little jarring being around so many kids all at once.” I lean against the step behind me, resting an elbow on the cold wood while staring up at the starry sky. It is beautiful out here.

“Simon said the same thing the first time he went.” He hums with amusement. “A bit less nicely though. Think it went something like ‘so many fuckin’ kids.’” We both chuckle while I nod. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“I like seeing him with them. He could use more playtime in his life.” I grin at the thought of buying him a little plastic toolkit to carry around with him. “I might’ve snuck a few pictures without him seeing.”

“Oh yeah? Don’t think you’re the only one.” There’s a little ding from my phone and I put him on speaker as I look at my messages. There’s a picture waiting there of me holding the baby, a soft smile on my face as I stare down at her. Soap is in the kitchen, so Simon must’ve taken it. Cheeky bastard. “Look pretty comfy in that picture, sugar.”

I smile and shrug as if he can see me. “Not sure if I’ve ever held a baby before. Don’t think I have and Soap was only using her as a reason to keep me sitting. But I liked holding her. I think I like it here, actually. Only thing missing is you.” My cheeks get a little hot when I realize what I said, but I only hear John’s soft hum of approval.

“Wish I was there too, sugar. But I like hearing that you’re enjoying yourself and getting some rest. It’s well-deserved.”

“You deserve rest too. Better not neglect yourself while I’m away.”

He laughs softly and I let the sound fill me with warmth. “Yes, ma’am. Call me again tomorrow?”

“I will. Night.”

“Night, sugar.”

We hang up and I stay outside for a few moments longer, breathing in the crisp air and appreciating the stars. It’s only when Soap comes to get me that I shuffle inside straight into a fire warmed blanket that Simon instantly swaddles me in before sitting me in an armchair close to the flickering fireplace. Yeah, I could really learn to like this place.

Tags (Hello, lovelies. As always, tell me if you'd like to be removed or if anyone else wants to be tagged on G and Price's story!)--

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13 @emsstuff1 @missmidnight-writes @thereeallink @younggirlgenius @1wh4re1nova @ghostslillady @honeybeeznutz @00ops1e

#captain price #call of duty #cod #fluff #angst #cod mw2 #ghost #price #price x reader #f!reader #f!oc #simon ghost riley #john price #captain john price #price fluff #soap #john soap mactavish #soap cod #G x Price #female!oc #oc:G

[blingblong55]

Choke-Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader x John Price NSFW

^Such a fucking good song

Based on a request:

OK, weird combo Price!jealous x Ghost!possessive x F!reader. Reader goes on a mission with Her mentor Ghost and her Captain. I just imagine them pulling reader one way to another to end up sandwiched between them for some angry dominant sex. Idk just a thought --- F!Reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, dub-con, angry!sex, dom!Ghost, dom!Price, sub!reader, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, degrading, threesome, anal!sex, jealous!Price, possessive!Ghost, spanking ---

A/N: in Badjhur we trust

It was supposed to be a short missions, simple and quick. No one knew it'd end up being running to the woods' safe house, having to stay longer than expected and make both of your commanding officers jealous or possessive of their little private. Tension grew when you asked Ghost to open a bottle, the lid too hard to twist and your tired state not being able to create much strength. Price wished you asked him instead, a real man, in his words. That whole day, you spent it between laps, getting taught how to clean your riffle properly, teaching you new techniques and then the occasional groping.

At some point, you went from occasional pulls towards one of their laps to having one man pull your waist to his side whilst the other pulled your arms towards him. "Fuckin' leave her to me Price," Ghost said through gritted teeth. "I'm not letting you have her sit on your lap, lieutenant." Price puffed out a cloud of smoke. You looked between them and as Price lifted your chin to look at him, Ghost cupped your face and made you turn to him. "My pretty girl," he lifted his balaclava and as he was about to kiss your forehead, Price pulled you to his side.

"Don't touch her," his arms wrapped around you. Ghost couldn't take it you were his and at base, he had made sure all soldiers knew that. Price kissed you, hands roaming on you and then you felt it, Ghost bitting onto your neck, marking you as his. "Whoever makes 'er come more, fucking wins 'er." Ghost took your jackey off, lifitng the shirt from your body and tossing it aside. "What a beauty," Ghost kisses your shoulders and neck. Price with one single move removes your bra and kisses the collar bone.

Clothes all off, your captain's head between your thighs, teasing your folds all while the lieutenant makes you open your mouth wide as you give him head. You let out a whimper when they abruptly stop and put you on all fours. "Let's see who gives her a better time," Price's hands caress your bare ass before he gives you a good slap. You mewl and he chuckles, "Oh, what a good girl," he continues to slap your ass and without warming, Ghost smacks his cock on your mouth. "Stick your tongue out for me, be a good slut," he commands. You do as told and he smirks. "Spit on it, baby," your spit covering his tip, tongue swirling around and giving him pleasure.

Your mouth slowly stretches thin as his fat cock gets inside it. His thrusts all in rage, wanting to win this bet, make you his slut by the end of it. Price needed you to be his, needed your pretty holes filled and leaking with his cum, leaving you to his mercy only. Thick fingers deep inside your cunt, pumping themselves into that tight pussy of yours. The sweet noises of you gagging and being choked by Ghost's fat cock, making you clench on Price's thick and veiny cock. You cry out. Your g spot getting pleased at every thrust. Ghost knew this, so he pulled out, "Let me take her first, to show you how good her face looks when I take her fully," he tried to reason but in truth he needs you to himself, to be the one fucking himself into you.

"Fine, but I'll be next," His heavy cock gets stroked by his calloused hands as he sits and watches from the chair near the sofa. Ghost rubs his tip rubbing your slit, you let out a soft whimper to which he grbas your chin and makes you look at him. "Good fucking sluts take what I give," he spits out. Your mouth spread open, his fungers fucking your throat, tears and gags all running free, he smirks, his dick hard and slowly being thrusted in you. Your tits bouncing at his hard thrusts, he slaps yopur face when you close your moth around his fingers, "fucking keep it open!" he commands.

Price couldn't take it, so he moves to your mouth, his cock taking the lieutenants fingers place. "We had a fucking deal, Price," Ghost growls, thrust become more rough. You try and plea but both men could not care for you at this time. Price chokes you with his hands, your neck would for sure get some bruising after this. His balls slapping against your face. Your eyes shut as the tears and war paint came offf your face. Ghost hoplding your hips in place, his cock abusing your tight cunt. Price holding your neck, enjoying how you choke and clench around his cock, Ghost encouraging this by groaning. "Fucking. Slut. Taking. It.All." He said with each thrust.

The bulge of Ghost's fat and lenghthy cock on your tummy, he presses it down, which makes you moan. The vibrations only feeding Price to win this contest. Your tits getting slapped, Ghost bends forward and nibbles on them. Price pulls out, lays down and forcefully makes Ghost pull out. Your juices leaking from the lieutenants cock. Price on his back and your back to his chest, legs spread apart as he aligns his cock to your ass. The tight walls stretching for his size, you cry out only to get your mouth filled by Price's fist. Ghost holding your legs up as his cock gets buried in your cunt.

Your body was beyond pleasure, beyond the ecstasy of it, it was like entering a realm of sex and pleasure. Both of your holes getting stuffed and as wanted, filled by their cum. You'd think they stopped there, but they didn't, especially not Ghost. His thick and rough fingers pinch and rub your clit, you squirm and before you could even close your legs, he slaps the sensitive tissue. "Oh...what a delight," he smiles and leans forward, kissing your neck only to get pushed away by Price who kept choking you.

"Mine," Ghost grunts and bites your shoulder, leaving his teeth marked on your skin. "My fucking slut," he bites your neck this time and as his cum leaks into your cunt, he bites harder. You cry out a moan and he aggressively slaps your face. "Take it, bitch!" He slaps you again.

Price pulls out, your ass filled and covered in his cum. Ghost lifts you up, your weak legs wrapped around his hips, his cock still buried deep in you. He pushes you onto him, guides your pussy to his cock with every thrust. His hands under your ass as he moans. Price lighting up a cigar, watches with a smirk. Your nails dig into Ghost's back, you leaned against him, cries of pleasure escape your precious lips. Once he pulls out, he feels your juices and his cum drip form hour abused hole.

His big arms wrap you in a tight embrace as he gives you a sweet and long kiss. Soon, as you sat on his lap, all cuddled and kissed, he turned to Price. "Look who she is with now," he smiles and looks down at you. Pouty, flustered mess in his arms, holding him like he was your source of life. "My cum still leaks from her," Price comments. "Not for long, I'll make sure to replace it with mine," he kisses you again.

--- A/N: Let's thank @gh0stsenpai007 for helping me write parts of this scene &lt;3 ---

Tags: @amygaster004 @liyanahelena @archangel1206 @bubblegumbabycow @saoirse06 @montenegroisr @potatoknight @braindancecopy

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod #cod smut #cod kinktober #ghost smut #ghost x reader x price #cod 141 #mwii #captain price smut #price smut #john price smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #cod x reader smut #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod price x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price #simon ghost riley x you #ghost riley x reader

[pokechbi]

🎀I Can Treat You Better Than He Ever Can, Love🎀

Simon Ghost Riley x fem Reader!

NSFW, MDNI !!!

Fem anatomy used

WC: 4.9K

As always, asks are open and every single interaction is so so greatly appreciated! I love u all 🫶

Enjoy loves 💗💗 !!!

You sat in the mess hall, picking at your lunch, your appetite gone for the day. You stared ahead at Konig, sat two tables in front of you. You also stared at the brunette woman sitting across from him, giggling like a fucking schoolgirl at his every word. You watched, your head searing with green, slimy jealousy as she reached over and grazed her fingers over his. Bitch. You muttered quietly, putting the lid on the lunch you had brought from home.

"Someone's got their knickers in a twist." The Brit came from behind you, his steps quieted as always. He sat across from you, blocking your view of the Austrian beast you had your heart set on. You groaned, slumping over in your seat. "What's on your mind, mate" He asks. You look up at him. His gaze scanned your face, landing on your eyes, looking between them. You shifted in nervousness, fiddling with the sleeve of your turtleneck. He was boring a hole into your skin, his eyes dark and strong. You wouldn't hesitate to obey him like a dog when he stared at you like that. But he wasn't the one you had your heart set on. At least not anymore.

Months ago, you and Simon found yourselves alone in a conference room, and you were hell bent on releasing the sexual tension that had managed to build between you both for weeks. He stood towering over you, eyes sliding down your body and undressing you with his eyes. You approached him hastily, running your hands up and down his face, slowly slipping your fingers under the hem of his balaclava. He softly grabbed your hands, lowering your arms back to your sides. You looked at him confused. "I...can't, love." He spoke, his voice close to a whisper. Your heart dropped into your stomach as he said this, your breathing growing strained. You felt the tightening of your throat, tears threatening to well. "I'm your Lieutenant. This won't end well for either of us. You know that." He said gently, hands still wrapped around yours. You parted your lips to speak, your bottom lip quivering with your sadness, turned to pure anger. "So...you led me on?" You asked him. His eyes go wide, instantly shaking his head. " What? No, I didn't lead you on. I never promised anything between us." He scoffed, pointing a gloved finger in your face. "Did you think that our little moments meant that I'd risk my entire career for you?" You looked at him stunned, and began backing away slowly, nodding your head in disbelief. He runs his hands over his face, sighing frustratedly. "Listen...I'm sorry. I didn't mea-" "Save it, Simon. Forget this ever happened. That we ever happened." You spat, throwing the door open and slipping yourself through it. He watched painfully as you left, the sting of rejection stabbing your core.

The memory jabbed at you as he looked at you, the lustful look in his eyes that night slithering its way into your head. You push the thought away. You and Simon agreed to forget it happened, to stay as friends. You didn’t want to raise suspicion to any of the higher-ups, so you carried on like normal. It took weeks, months to feel like you were over him. You dreaded seeing him everyday, avoiding him on missions and around base like the plague. But somehow, he managed to work his way back into your life as if nothing happened. You decided it couldn’t be that bad for you, if anything it’d help you get over him and see him as a friend and nothing more. At least, you did. "Nothing's wrong, Simon. I'm fine." You reply, looking up to meet his eyes again. "Doesn't look like nothin' ". He chuckles. “The way you’re starin’ at Jessie like you wanna curb stomp the poor lass” He says smugly. Jessie. You scoff, your cheeks burning red with irritation. “Does everyone on this base know her fucking name?” You stand to your feet, grabbing your bag and not bothering to trash the container with your untouched lunch. You make your way out of the entrance to the mess hall, your blood boiling with jealousy. What did she have that you didn’t? You roll your eyes, walking hastily to the elevator. You needed to get outside, breathe some air. You felt suffocated in that building, like every single person there was secretly out to get you, knowing your deepest and darkest secrets and hell bent on using them against you. You’d been having shit luck on the field, distracted by the two damning men who plagued your mind. You wanted Konig. Needed him. And while you were friendly while he was stationed on the base, he showed no signs of wanting anything more. And that broke you, making you want to rip the hair right out of your head. First Simon, now him. You couldn’t catch a break.

As you approached the elevator, you felt a strong hand grab your wrist, holding you in place. Without turning around, you could already tell who it was. The smell of his musky, warm cologne wafted up your nose, triggering the memories you had tried so hard to purge from your head. You turn slowly to meet his gaze, the rough pads of his gloves chafing the skin of your wrists. You twist your arm, trying to wring it out of his grip. “Simon, let me go. I’m not in the fucking mood for this.” You spat, slapping his hand. He very easily overpowered you, and he knew that. He stood there, not budging as his death grip grew stronger. “You’re hurting me, Simon.” You cry, feeling the suppressed emotions and frustrations starting to simmer as they threaten to wreak havoc on you. He lessens his grip, but he steps closer to you, now hovering over your face. You turn your face away from him, staring at the floor as you feel his breath heat your skin. “You don’t need to be jealous of her, you know. Konig is nothing special.” He says smugly, disregarding the pure anger written on your features. "He's a door opener. A useless fuckin' wannabe sniper. Why are you so broken up over 'im?" You pause at his words. Did he really need to kick you while you were down?

You glare at him, trying to free yourself from his grasp once more. He finally lets you go, and you waste no time in pressing the elevator button. You don’t respond to him, hoping that if you ignored him he might take a hint and leave you alone. As you listen to the elevator making its way to your floor, you feel Simon step closer and closer behind you. “Don’t ignore me. You can talk to me.” He says, his voice a low grumble. You stand your ground, pursing your lips and scoffing at him. He sighs behind you. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You step inside, pressing the button to the ground floor. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and he wastes no time in stepping into the elevator with you before you can close the door on him. “Come on. Stop being so stubborn. Why won’t you-” 

“Simon, the last time I confided in you about my feelings, you rejected me and led me to believe you cared when you couldn’t have given less of a shit about them. And now you want to act like you give a fuck about what I feel? Please, spare me.” You say sarcastically, shaking your head at him. He doesn’t break his gaze, but instead keeps his eyes on you, running them over your face. For a split second, his eyes land on your lips. You feel your heart flutter as you notice it, being that you wouldn’t have caught it if you blinked. You curse him in your head, knowing this would lead nowhere good. He was leading you on again, giving you false hope. He was conjuring old feelings that you were sure were buried deep in you. Sure, the memories manage to seep through once in a while, but ultimately -  he had you whipped- and he knew that. The way you wanted to drop to your knees and let him degrade you, wishing he’d slam you up against this wall and take you right in this elevator…all because he looked at your lips. You needed to get a hold of your feelings, and fast. You were sure you would lose control if he tried anything, and it made you feel less than. You lacked self control when it came to your feelings, leading you to be hurt many times. You lacked self control especially when it came to Simon. 

“Love…I..” He steps closer to you, and by God’s will, the elevator doors slid open. You rushed out, grabbing your car keys from your bag and speed walked out of the door and to your car. Your eyes stung against the winter air, flushing your cheeks. You fumbled with the keys, pressing the button to unlock the door before you reached it. The sun had begun to set, rays of sunlight beaming over your face. As you reached your car, you heard him approach behind you. You groaned, turning to face him. You glared at him, his eyes pleading with you to listen to what he had to say. Your head was spinning, not knowing what you wanted more: For him to leave you alone, or take you right there, fucking you so deep you could feel him in your guts. You stood there, watching him in silence. The wind picked up, pushing your hair into your face. He stepped forward, his face hovering dangerously close to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, not knowing how to react. Your mind constantly fought between pushing him off, telling him to fuck off and to quit these games of his, or just submitting to his every touch and letting the thoughts of resisting die in your head. “Please, just listen to me.” He says, running his hands up your arms. You gently shy away from his touch, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Simon. You’ve said enough already.” You say, a slight tremor in your voice from adrenaline. You didn’t know why he was doing this, complicating the feelings for him that you had worked so hard to store away. Why was he doing this? Now, of all times, when you found yourself remotely over him and wanted someone else. 

“You’re right. I’ve said enough. You’re completely right about that.” He reaches up, brushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The rough material of his gloves scrape your cheek. You wanted them off, his bare fingers touching you instead. “You know what they say, darling. Actions speak louder than words.” He continues, slipping his fingers to the back of your head, a handful of hair entangling his hand. With his free hand, he slowly reaches up to his face, swiftly lifting the balaclava over his lips. You had never seen his face before, and it seemed like your world stopped spinning at the slight glimpse of his strong jaw. A discolored scar ran up his upper lip, ending right on top of his lip line. He parted his lips, his breath now hot on your face. Your breathing trembled as he dipped his head forward, clashing his mouth with yours. You whine into the kiss, your knees weakening under you. His grip tightens on your hair, his body pushing you into the back door of your car. You fumble with the handle, not breaking the kiss as his hand lands on your ass, roughly squeezing it through your pants. You get the car door open, and Simon groans into the kiss as he pushes you inside. You break the kiss, sliding into the backseat as he lies you down on the seat. He hovers over your face as you lie back on the seat, reaching behind him and slamming the car door. He wraps his hand around your throat, beckoning you to sit up with him. He kisses you again, aggressively shoving his tongue in your mouth, groaning into you. The taste of him on your lips was enough to drive you absolutely feral, wanting more of his taste on your lips. He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing your hips as you straddle him. You moan softly as you grind your hips against his, the fabric barrier frustrating you and causing a wetness to pool between your thighs. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to diminish the very thing that held him back from being inside you already. You reached down, palming at his growing erection. He groaned into your mouth, throwing his head back at your touch. “I need you, love…don’t know how fucking long I’ve needed you.” He breathes, his grip on your hips growing stronger. 

“Please…Simon. J-just fuck me already.” You moan softly, raising your hand to claw at the collar of his shirt. He wastes no time in ripping it off like it was on fire, throwing it onto the car floor. He sits up, leaning you backwards as he undoes his belt. His jeans were uncomfortably tight around his crotch at this point in time, his shaft painfully pressed against his balls. He groans as he slides his jeans down to his thighs, rolling you off him to get them off the rest of the way. You watched lustfully as you started ripping your own clothes off, desperately yearning for his touch on your bare skin. You’re left in nothing but your panties, the cold draft rising goosebumps on your skin. After sliding his jeans down to his ankles, he leans over to grab you by the hips, dragging you onto his lap once more. He snaked an arm around your waist, keeping you close to him. You’re unable to move, your nipples grazing his toned chest. The sensitivity of your hardened nipples causes a jolt to run through you, letting out a soft whine at the skin to skin contact. He notices your sensitivity, resulting in a low chuckle to rumble out of his lips. He smirks, staring at you mischievously. You let out a yelp, trailing off into a pleasured moan as he pinched your right nipple, dipping his head forward and taking the other in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the hardened bud, causing pleasure to shoot straight into your core, ecstasy flowing through your blood. “You sound so fuckin’ sexy, love. Keep going.” 

You continue to moan as you arch your back against him, taking more and more of your breast into his mouth. He leaves hickies on the soft, silky skin of your breasts, leaning back to look at his handiwork. He suddenly stops, beckoning for you to turn your back to him. You do as you're told, turning around on his lap with your back facing his chest. He slowly runs his hands down your thighs, opening your legs and placing a foot on each of his knees so you’re wide open for him. He grabs and palms at your thighs, resting a hand right over your pussy, slick with arousal. He chuckles as he feels how slick you are, leaning down to kiss your neck, whispering against your skin. “Look how goddamn wet you are for me. You’re just a little whore, yeah?” He whispers, slapping your pussy with an open palm, causing you to yelp. “You know I’d treat you better than he could, don’t you, love.” He asks, saying it more as a statement than a question. You nod, throwing your head back onto his chest as he slips a finger into your panties. He drags a finger from your hole to your clit, sliding it up and down painfully slow. “Oi, use your words, princess.” He demands, stopping his finger, making you whine out of desperation. “Y-yes! You can treat me better than he can, Simon.” 

“Good girl.” He continues sliding his finger between your pussy lips, the lewd sounds of your slick permeating the air. He lifts you by your hips, as if you weighed nothing to him. You feel him positioning the tip of his cock over your panties, swollen and leaking with precum. You buck your hips in need, your head rolling around on his chest. He chuckles deviously, moving your panties to the side as he exposes your clit to the chilled air. “Tell me you want it, love. Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you until your screamin’ my name so loud the fuckin’ windows shatter.” His gruff voice sends a chill down your spine, a predatorial lust laced in his tone. You part your lips to speak, your breath hitching in your throat as he slides his tip between your slick folds, causing a groan to escape his lips. “I want it so bad, Simon. I want you so bad. P-please.” You beg, barely able to get your words out as he uses your clit to smear his precum all over your cunt, both of you now wet with each other’s juices. You moan softly, holding back the scream of desperation you so badly wanted to let out. “Good fuckin’ girl. You want my cock in you that bad, aye?” He says, a grunt following as he lines the tip with your hole. “Y-yes! P-please, Simon.” You beg, bucking your hips forward. You feel how big he is already, throbbing and thick, hard like you’ve never felt before. You widen your legs, trying to lower yourself onto him. He holds you up by your hips, stopping you from taking what you need. You whine, your clit throbbing and swollen with need. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” He chuckles, pushing into you further. You both groan, your delicate moans soft and silky compared to his guttural, manly grunts. He lowers you onto him slowly, bucking his hips ever so slightly. He seemed to be holding back, and that frustrated you. You tried to push against his hands once more, trying to suck in just one more measly little inch. He exhaled sharply, suddenly wrapping a strong hand around your throat. 

“Quit bein’ so fuckin’ greedy, love. You’re like a bitch in heat for Christ's sake.” He says, the grip on your throat growing as you struggle to breathe. You take the lack of his other hand to stop you for granted, smugly pushing yourself down on him further. You smile triumphantly, feeling the electricity flow through your core. He groans in your ear, tightening his grip on your throat. Your air flow restricts, and you couldn’t have cared less. He was almost inside of you completely, and you could feel resistance as you struggled to take him. Catching his breath from the unexpected death grip your pussy had on him, he speaks. “I was tryin’ to take it slow for you, impatient fuckin’ slut.” He says, raising a hand to your face, landing an open palmed slap to your soft skin. The pain stung you so deliciously, making you giggle with delirium. Simon scoffs behind you, astonished at how absolutely filthy you were. “If that’s how ya wanna play it, love. Fine with me.” He says, and before you got the chance to hear an explanation, he slams into you all in one go, the throbbing tip of his cock pushing past the spongy wall that hadn’t been touched in quite a while. He begins to thrust his hips upward, plowing into you as if there were no tomorrow. You yelled out, your sounds a mixture of pained yells and lustful moans. His hand still had quite of a grip on your throat, causing your face to grow a deep shade of red as he fucked you. Noticing your lack of airflow, he lets go of your neck. 

He struggles to get his cock in you all the way, causing him to slow his pace. He groans in your ear as you grip his cock like a vice. 

“Relax. Let me in, baby.” He brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting into them. He wraps an arm around your front, resting his lubed fingers on your clit. As he draws wet circles on your clit, your walls flutter and spasm around his dick, allowing him further entry. He lets out a low chuckle, continuing to rub your clit, the lewd sounds of him spreading his saliva between your pussy lips bouncing off the windows. “Gotta show the girl some love for her to open up to me, right, lass?” He says, his accent thick on his tongue. You nod, letting out a string of slurred “mhmms” as he continues loving on your clit. He starts to pump into you again, grunting and moaning in your ear. He curses, throwing his head back as he fucks you. Your heels dig into his knees, hoisting yourself up as you throw yourself down on him in sync with his thrusts. This seems to incapacitate him, ripping the thoughts right from his head. Your tits jiggle with every thrust, your hair hanging down and brushing against his face. He adores the view of you, trying your hardest not to cum as he pounds the spot that drives you nuts without missing a beat. The steady rhythm made you feel like you haven’t felt ever before, coming close to your end quicker than you ever had. His dick was working brutal magic on your walls, his fingers lovingly caress and flick at your clit. The mixture of feelings soon became too much for you to handle. You clenched against him, the sounds of your inner slick coating his cock turning you on like never before.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart?” He leans down, whispering into your neck. You nod furiously, eyes tearing up at the absolute love he was playing on your clit with. As if it were his own cock, feeling your pleasure ripple through you and into his blood as he touched you. In this moment, you knew. He had you. There wasn’t any escaping him after this, and there was no escaping your feelings any longer. The unsettling yet comforting feeling made your core tighten, conjuring an orgasm so strong, you’d prove to him with direct evidence that you were his, and no one else's. 

“ ‘m gonna cum, Simon. ‘m gonna cum” You slur, pressing the back of your head into his chest. “Cum for me, baby. I want you to fuckin’ cum all over my cock. You beautiful fuckin’ whore.” His words send you over the edge, a warmth rushing straight to your clit, spraying his hand with your squirt as you yell out, your eyes stinging with tears as you had never felt anything so. fucking. intimate. Your walls pulsate around him, your thighs instinctively trying to close themselves at the overstimulation. Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Simon wraps his hands around your thighs, prying them open with a strength you didn’t know he had. Simon seemed to enjoy your orgasm as much as you did, and it seemed that he got off more on watching you absolutely crumble at his touch. You knew it was something predatorial, but you chose to enjoy it anyway. As your walls fluttered and tightened around him, his grip on your thighs moved to his fingertips, leaving dark red marks in its wake. You knew he was close, and you didn’t want to admit that the thought of him filling you up with his seed, made you go feral. You continued bouncing yourself on him, his face now buried in your hair as he cursed and moaned. He was no longer bucking his hips at a rhythmic pace, now sloppily pumping into you as your cunt did its work on him. “Fuck, baby. I’m so fuckin’ close.” He gripped your thighs tighter, causing you to wince at the pain. It felt as if he was trying to rip your flesh open with his fingers, the feeling of your hot, squelching walls, fresh from an orgasm driving him to insanity. You smile as he continues moaning nasty nothings in your ear. 

“Gonna breed you, make you mine… forever.” 

“You’re mine now, do you understand that?”

“You won’t ever think of fuckin’ another man when I’m done with you. Do. You. Understand.” 

“Do you think Konig could fuck you like this? Didn’t think so, baby. Fuckin’ pathetic.” 

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine - fuuuuckin’ hell” 

You keep a steady rhythm, rolling your hips onto his cock as the heels of your feet dig into his knees. He lets out a long guttural groan, breathing heavily against your hair. You feel his cock throb inside of you, his seed filling you to the brim of leaking. You feel some of him slip out of you, dribbling down your hole and onto your asscheek. He thrusts into you slowly, fucking his seed back into you. You belonged to him now, and God help any man who so much as looked at you the wrong way. You both stay connected inside of you for a minute, breathing into the air. The windows of the car were now fogged up, the chill making its way across your skin as you curled up in his lap. 

“Mine. All fuckin’ mine”.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ 

Simon’s lips curl into a grin as he slides your panties down your legs, balling them up in his hand as he tucks them into his pocket. You scoffed at him as you dressed yourself, still feeling the warmth of him drip down your walls. 

“What would the team say if they found out you’re a panty stealer?” You ask, teasing him as you slip your shirt on. 

“Well, depends on who it is. Soap’ll definitely beg for a whiff.” He says, your jaw dropping open. You smack his chest playfully. He grabs your hand, pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you gently, a great difference from how he’d been kissing you earlier. 

“Feelin’ better, love?” He says, breath hot on your lips. 

“Very much so.” You chuckle. You look at his lips, wondering what else was behind that mask of his. You look back and forth between his eyes, slowly reaching your hand forward, pulling the hem of his balaclava. “Let me see you, Simon” You say gently. He wraps his hands around your wrist, not stopping you, just holding you. You see a glint of nervousness in his eyes as you pull it from his head. You smile as your eyes scan over his face. His blonde hair sat messily atop his head, his features all coming together to make the most strikingly beautiful man you’d ever seen. His breathing grows heavier as he sees your reaction, seemingly releasing a breath he’d been holding. He smirks at you, slowly bringing your hand to his face. You caress his stubbled cheek, running your fingertips along his strong nose, crooked from multiple breaks. You softly run your fingers over his lips and jawline, your eyes lidded with lust. The way he looked back at you, confirmed everything you’d been trying to prevent yourself from believing all these months. “If you felt the same way about me, why did you…?” You start, tears stinging your eyes. 

“Things were complicated, love. Or not, I don’t know. I was a coward. You made me a coward.” He admits, a somber tone to his voice that you never expected to hear from him. He was usually a humorous, flat-toned man who expressed himself with silence, or witticisms, and there was no in between. The moment felt fragile, as if it would shatter if you spoke too loudly. You smile at him with shaky lips, a tear falling down your cheek. “All this time I thought…I don’t know, I thought you hated me too much to want to fix it.” He continues, swiping the tear from your face with his thumb. You felt as if you spoke you would break, so you kissed him. He breathes heavily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body. “I’m not good at this, love. But, you make me feel ways I thought were never possible for someone like me. And I promise, with every fiber of my being…I’ll never let this go. I’ll never let you go. No matter how hard you try and run from me.” He says, breaking into a smile at the last words. You smile at him, slipping your fingers through his blonde locks. His eyes gaze into your soul, his words settling into your heart, engraving themselves in stone. 

“I hated seeing you so broken up over that prick…I guess it fueled me to be better. To be better for you.” He says, resting his head in your hands. 

“I only wanted him as a rebound, Simon.” You say, a sly smirk on your face. He scoffs at you, raising his head to meet yours. His smile was still so new to you, enough to make you crumble at his feet without shame. “You’re a damn minx, you know that?” He says, a soft chuckle escaping from his lips. “You don’t have to worry about that useless bloke anymore.” He continues, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “I can treat you better than he ever can, love”.

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