#gator.writing

[gatorlovebot]

inspired by @ghouljams ghost distribution system posts <3

thinking about neighbor simon who watches you move in to the little 1 bedroom rental property next to his own. it takes it a few days for it to sink in that it’s just you living in the home. seemingly no partner, no roommates, no family. it makes his skin itch and his fingers twitch.

he doesn’t know why he introduces himself to you, but when he walks out his front door with riley, leash in hand, his feet start moving himself closer to your porch. you're struggling to hang a potted plant on a hook and even though he desperately wants to take it from you and hang it himself, end your struggle, he stays firmly planted right in front of your porch steps.

the look of triumph on your face sets something off in his stomach before you finally notice him. he can tell you're taken aback by his presence on your stoop and he's not surprised. but your eyes cut down to riley whose standing at attention by his side and your eyes soften and a smile threatens to split your lips because of his boy.

"oh, hi," you greet him, still kind to him regardless of his intrusion.

"hi," his voice is gruff, not the kindest it's ever been. he doesn't want to give away too much, how he felt compelled to come to you. "you just move in?"

he watches as your eyes slip down to riley again, probably easier to look at the grinning dog by his feet than him. "yeah, just last week." you confirm.

"just you in there?" he's prying and he knows it, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to.

you look back up at him and he allows himself to look at the column of your throat. "yeah, just me." you sound weary, good, he thinks. "is it just you and the dog, then?"

tit for tat. "ya', just me and riley."

your face softens and a smile graces your lips as you look back down at riley. "riley?" your voice is soft, like you're talking to something precious and small, it makes riley's ears perk up. "good name for a good boy."

simon huffs a breath, a tiny little chuckle of a thing. he can only imagine how ths interaction would go if he hadn't had riley with him. he would have hoped you wouldn't have been that forthcoming with a complete stranger at your doorstep. his mind is screaming at him to leave, to get off your stoop and to leave your life as quickly as he inserted himself into it. but your kindness eats away at him, settling low in his gut. he's always had an easier time listening to his body than his head.

he watches as you reach your hand out for riley to sniff, it’s not often that him and riley get approached by strangers so riley revels in the attention, nosing at your hand for pets and scratches. “i’ve been thinking of getting a dog, maybe riley can have a friend in the neighborhood.”

of course you’re thinking of getting a dog, a young thing like you on your own for the first time, your first taste of freedom getting something of your own. he shouldn't make assumptions, but he does. you had only been in your own place for a week and you're already thinking of getting something to take care of. maybe he'll have to get a tight leash to keep you on.

"haven't been on your own for very long," he doesn't phrase it as a question, instead it comes out as a statement, a fact, because it is. somehow he just knows this is your first chance at independence.

"yeah, you're right," you agree, still rubbing riley's ears but your eyes look dejected.

he can't bare to look at your far away eyes and down turned lops any longer, tugging riley closer to himself clearing his throat. "well, we should get going." he watches you give one last per to riley, cooing at the dog with a little wave. he feels something in him shift.

-

the next day when he leaves his house with riley his feet take him back up your walk and onto your porch. you aren't out today, so simon needs to knock on your door. he doesn't expect you to answer after he raps his knuckles against the wood grain, but out the corner of his eye he sees you peek out the front window to look out your porch. good, can't have you opening up the door to strangers.

you look surprised to see him, but your eyes brighten when you see riley. "oh, hi guys," you greet the both of them, your voice sweet and polite. simon takes in your appearance, wrapped up in soft, comfy clothes. he knows he should feel a bit of remorse at interrupting your time, but he doesn't, too preoccupied with the way you crouch down to stoke over riley's ears.

"thought you may want to join us," he says in lieu of a greeting. you look up at him with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed. all he does is tug loosely on riley's leash as explanation.

"oh," you put the pieces together, smart girl. "really?," you question, "i don't want to bother you-"

"if i didn't want you to join us, i wouldn't have come over." he contends, shutting his mouth before begging words are able to slip past his lips.

your expression smooths out despite his gruff words and you give riley a meaningful look before asking him, "can you give me a minute to put my shoes on?"

#gator.writing #writing has been so tough lately and i'm not happy with this or proud of it but i needed the concept out of my head #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. this is self indulgent but its my right as a 20 something who is getting ready to move out on their own for the first time to write about landlord john price ok <3

landlord price who buys a nice looking duplex in the city and fixes it up himself. lives in the top floor because he doesn’t need much space to himself and rents out the bottom unit. so far it had mostly been couples or smaller familes renting out the bottom unit, until you came along.

you, who had been saving money to rent something nice for yourself, something with a little extra space. the two bedroom downstairs unit is perfect for you, but you have pretty mixed feelings about your landlord living right above you. until you actually meet him.

upon moving in your greeted by the warm accent of john price. his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you and you can pick out grey hairs in his full beard. it’s so cliche, feeling butterflies for an older man whose kind to you but what are you supposed to do when he offers to help you bring in boxes, muscly arms on full display?

he allows you time and space to get settled in, with a promise of, “i’m just upstairs if you ever need anything.”

you don’t see him for the next few days until there’s a knock at your door and its him, looking soft and sweet in a grey henley, just in time for the colder fall weather. “would you care to join me for dinner? i tried a new soup recipe and seems like a i have enough to feed a small army.”

and that’s how you end up in his space for the first time. it’s tiday yet lived in. furniture dark and worn. you can tell a man lives here. dinner is nice, soup rich and filling. but john makes it so much better. effortlessly making you laugh with his bad jokes and stories. he’s warm and personable. your little crush grows when he walks you back downstairs to your unit when the sun goes down. you find yourself struggling to go inside to your empty apartment.

some days you see him and some days you don’t. your work schedule is consistent but you can’t get a read on his schedule, coming and going unpredicatably. life of a retiree, you think.

sometimes you catch him when you’ve come home from work. usually you’re thrilled to see him, an immediate smile stretching across your face and a blush on your cheeks as soon as you see his smile and hear his voice.

sometimes you curse his presence. like now, when you can’t even wait until you get inside your place before the tears start to fall. and of course john has to be in the front yard racking up leaves. you try to give a polite hello and walk up the steps inside, but john price can already read you like a book.

he’s pulling you into his chest before you even know it, big, solid arms wrapped around your shoulders holding you snug to him. “what’s got you so upset, huh?”

and you let the tears fall in earnest, feeling safe and secure with john. “work…just fucking sucks.”

“oh you poor thing,” he coos before gathering you up in his arms and leading you up to his place. he brews some tea as you sink into his couch, the leather warm and soft underneath you. once the teas done, he settles next to you and let’s you warble on about how unsupportive your work environment is and how your boss never follows through on his promises. he mostly just lets you talk, letting out an occasional hum in affirmation. that night he’s not very talkative, he’s much more tactile. running his hands up and down your arms, rubbing the tension from your shoulders and back as he allows you to lean on him until you’re practically in his lap. you’ve exhausted yourself crying and he thanks you for being so vulnerable with him and tells you that even though you don’t deserve all the bullshit at your job, you’re such a brave girl for fighting through it.

things continue to get more and more comfortable between you two. you would almost go as far as to say you would consider him a friend. you do still sometimes have awkward moments though. like when you go down to the basement to change your laundry from the washer to the dryer and you find him already placing your garments in. “oh sorry,” he says, flustered, a tinge of pink dusting his cheeks at being caught. “i spilt some paint on myself earlier while touching up the trim outside and really needed to get some stuff in the washer. i was going to message you asking if all this stuff could go in the dryer.”

he’s so thoughtful, you think. “yeah, it can all go in. thanks, john!”

hours later when you’re finally putting away your clean laundry you realize some of your panties are missing. oh well, its an older dryer, must have eaten them.

its months layer when your stomach drops as you read a text from john asking if you could come upstairs later tonight, there was something he needed to talk to you about. you feel a flash of panic, his text sounding serious. did you do something wrong? you had just seen him the previous day and everything between you seemed fine. you thought you were a great renter, but now you weren’t so sure.

you make your way up to his place and he greets you at the door, usual soft smile on his face.

“i just wanted to get something out in the open,” he starts as you both take a seat on the couch. “i’ve noticed an odor coming from downstairs late at night.”

for a moment you have no idea what he could be talking about, an odor, you think and then it hits you. your late night smoke sessions. “oh, yeah.” it dawns on you. “i’m so sorry about that.”

“no, no, it’s fine.” he reassures, “i would be a bit of a hypocrite myself to be honest, i smoke cigars constantly. try to keep it to just the back balcony but sometimes i break my own rules.”

“yeah, i don’t do it in the apartment because that would be rude, but,” you wince, “sometimes i get a little too lazy to go outside so i just do it out my bedroom window.”

“ah, no worries, dear. just wanted to let you know that i know.”

with your panic subsiding you feel a little bold, “would you like to smoke a little, john?”

“if you’re offering, i’ll be on the balcony.”

you would have never imagined sharing a joint with john would lead you here. in his lap, legs splayed open with your pants around your ankles. listening to the wet sounds of your pussy as he dips his big fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots. your brain is floaty and your limbs feel weightless against his big body that surrounds yours.

there’s a constant stream of nonsense and whimpers that leaves your lips as you dumbly watch him pet your swollen clit. but its the filth from his mouth that really gets you. “such a pretty little thing fo’ me, huh?”

“this little cunt ‘s all mine, right?”

“i’ve been thinking about touching you like this since the day you moved in.”

“cum on my fingers, sweet girl, i know you want to.”

and you do, clenching around his fingers as you keen and moan through it. there’s a whispered, “good girl,” deep and gravelly in your ear before you’re being lifted into john’s arms as he carries you back inside, to his bedroom.

#captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #john price smut #john price imagine #captain john price smut #cod smut #cod imagine #gator.writing #like i said SELF INDULGENTTTT #also super messy bc i just needed to get these thoughts out of my head

[gatorlovebot]

part two of this little piece <3

you work early hours, not as early as simon, but in the mornings when he's bundling himself into his truck he notices lights on in your home. the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen. he watches you pull into your drive later in the afternoon. he gives you about an hour.

after the first time you agreed to accompany him and riley his feet always lead him to your front steps whenever he takes the dog out. the second day he can see the ways in which you weren't prepared for this to happen again like your feet still being in your fluffy slippers. but you oblige him again, turning back around inside to slip your shoes on.

by the end of the week when he comes to your door you're all ready to go on the other side. like you were waiting for him. it makes something rumble contently in his stomach. but when you two loop back around the neighborhood and say your goodbyes at your doorstep he vows to give you a break from himself over the weekend. he's been greedy all week, basking in your attention and kindness. the way you smile at riley, the way you smile at him, the giggles that bubble up out of you at his jokes. he'll revel in it over the next two days, drowning out the rest of the world with memories of you.

-

he wakes up later that night, disoriented and confused because he doesn't remember falling asleep. he's in a sitting position on the couch, boots still on, riley laid up next to him. when simon starts to stir riley's eyes cut to him, simon can feel them even in the dark of the house. it's late and simon is cold and his head throbs. when he reaches down to undo the thick laces of his boots his head feels impossibly full. he felt a tickle in his throat and a dull ache at his temples at the job site earlier that day but he had just brushed it off.

he drags himself from the couch down the hallway to his bed, curling up under the blankets still in his clothes, shivering despite the layers. when he wakes the next morning he feels worse, barely able to let riley out into the back garden. he spends most of the day resting on the couch, not eating, not drinking, until he opens his eyes to complete darkness and hauls himself back to bed again, the warmth of riley curling along his back.

the next day starts the same, simon waking to the ache in his ribs with every breathe he takes from spending the entire night coughing. he's not as cold, luckily, but his head still feels weighted down. he takes his place on the couch, dozing off once riley is back safe and secure in the house again.

he's awoken later in the day to a soft knocking at the door. he settles back into the cushions and let his eyes slip shut again, willing the stranger to go away. no one knocks at his door. his eyes snap open though when he hears the softness of your voice calling his name. he musters up his strength to get himself upright and hopes hopes hopes that he hasn't kept you waiting for too long, that you'll still be there waiting for him on the other side of the door when he finally gets it open.

you stand on his doorstep with tupperware in your hands and a smile on your face. he has to lean against the doorframe to keep himself up right. "oh, hi," you greet, color gracing your cheeks as you gesture at the tupperware in your hands, "i was baking and i thought i'd bring you over some cookies for being so nice to me since i moved in. i made a few different kinds because i didn't know what you liked. oh, i also made some dog biscuits for riley, they seem a little dry to me but the receipt i found used all dog safe ingredients."

he could listen to you ramble all day long, he hopes you'll keep going, hopes you'll explain each little thing you made him and his dog. he hopes you never leave his front steps, hopes you'll come inside. but you don't keep going, he instead watches as you furrow your brows as you take in his face. he hasn't looked at himself in days, can't even being to imagine the right state he's in.

"are you sick?" smart girl you are for putting the pieces together, he almost melts at the concern lacing your words. you reach a hand up, resting the back of it against his cheek, he tries not to purr against the softness of your skin. "you're so warm." you comment, reaching up to press your hand against his forehead, he shamelessly leans into your touch.

you giggle at him, a little thing, "you're burning up, simon."

his head still rests against your hand and his eyes are firmly shut, filling him with a sense of serenity for the first time in days. "sure am." he croaks, voice breaking against all the shit in his chest. it's the first time he's spoken to anyone in days.

"have you been taking care of yourself?"

he waits a beat, voice in his head screaming at him to lie, to push you away, but instead he shakes his head agianst your soft skin, mumbling out, "don't know how."

he doesn't see the way you roll your eyes at him, but he feels you take your hand away, instead moving it to his chest to push him back inside. once you toe your shoes off by the door you stop to take a moment to take in his living arrangements. the space and silence between you two allows for shame and embarrassment to start creeping up his throat but before he knows it you're leading him back to the couch, riley hot on your heels.

you get him to lie back down and even though he takes up the entirety of the couch you make space for yourself. sitting on the edge of the cushion, back against his legs as you reach over to fuss around with the blankets. it feels so good, but he knows its wrong. knows that you shouldn't be here, shouldn't be touching him like he's something to be taken care of.

he's almost about to listen to the voices in his head to push you away when you reach for his hand. he knows its clammy, but you slot your fingers between his like you want to be there. like you want to be touching him.

"have you eaten anything, simon?"

he vows to let you stay for as long as you like.

#gator.writing #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. the audio erotia app mentioned is quinn, i highly recommend it.

cw: male masturbation

“no, that’ll be all for today, love.”

it shouldn’t make you stop in your tracks but it does. a familiar voice that somehow makes its way to you over the din of the grocery store. the petname is what gets your ears perked up first, you don’t hear love used too often in the upper midwest. but then you hone in on the accent, the all too familiar accent that envelops you in heat and lust while you’re alone in your bed.

but it can’t be him.  the owner of the voice that you listen to to help get off isn’t in your local grocery store, right? but then you allow yourself to survey your surroundings, trying to subtly pick out the lone Brit that has a way of making you wet just from his voice alone. you think you spot him at the deli counter, waiting for something to be sliced. he’s tall and dark, hair covered by a well worn dark blue baseball hat. 

you discovered “gaz” months ago online, scrolling through dozens of audios on the website before pausing on one of his boyfriend roleplays. you weren’t one to be attracted to accents, but his profile picture is what got you. it was a shot of his side prolife leaving you only able to pick out a few details but it checked all of your boxes. dark eyes. broad nose. full lips. 

the man in the little picture you look at while bringing yourself to orgasm looks an awful lot like the man stood just a handful of feet from you. you try not to make an audible noise of shook when you hear his voice again, “thanks, love, appreciate it.” there’s a tiny voice in the back of your head that tries to convince yourself that you’re crazy, that you’re just projecting, but you allow yourself this little victory. it was him. the man whose voice had you writhing against the sheets. the man who could have you laughing to yourself at his snarky little jokes and then have you moaning as he groans on and on about your soft thighs and big fat arse. 

but now what were you supposed to do with this information? it’s not like you could approach him, what would you even say? you virtually know nothing about him, he doesn’t have any social medias linked to the audio erotica website. you’ve always figured gaz was some sort of nickname. but now you can at least see he dresses well. his dark trousers fit him quite nicely, the material stretching over his thighs. his dark leather boots shine against the fluorescent lights and he’s wearing a soft sweater that stretches against his shoulders. and he’s nice to service workers. 

you try not to melt on the spot. 

you’re knocked out of your gleeful reverie when he turns away from the counter, dropping his deli item into his basket. the giddy, little smile that had graced your lips falls from your face as his gaze meets your’s. your body goes hot with embarrassment and the only thing you can think to do is quickly turn to the display next to you and pretend to be seriously considering the items on the shelves. out of the corner of your eye you see him approaching you and as you reach up to blindly pull an item off the shelf, not even knowing what it was but pretending to read the nutrition facts and ingredients on the back, something you normally never do. 

you smell him before you feel him, inhaling a waft of spice with a hint of sweetness that somehow fits him so well. you think he’s just about to pass you buy but instead he stops just a pace behind you, reaching over you to grab something off the top shelf. “pardon my reach, love.” he husks, a hint of a smile so clear in his voice. he knows what he’s doing. 

your rattled mind can’t come up with an appropriate response because all you can think is it’s actually him. he slinks off behind you and you take a deep, grounding breath before walking off in the opposite direction. the grocer isn’t that big so you quickly make your way through the rest of the store grabbing your last few items with your head down, trying not to make anymore eye contact with the hot stranger that you’re intimately too familiar with. you luckily make it through self checkout without seeing him again.

-

after a few long days at work you almost have been able to put gaz out of your mind completely. you wake up at the crack of dawn, run yourself ragged at work, and when you get home from you barely have the capacity to feed yourself. you usually make time for self care late at night with the help of a smooth british accent but the last couple days you’ve been avoiding the website altogether. you tell yourself it’s just because you don’t have the time or the energy for it, but you know deep down the embarrassment of him catching you at the grocery store is still lingering. 

and the thing is that it realistically shouldn’t be all that embarrassing. he can’t know that you know him, can’t know where you know him from. but it somehow ot felt like he did, the little smirk he gave you when he caught your eyes ogling him, the way he reached over you, his body pressing against you for just a moment. but he didn’t, he couldn’t have known. but you know. you know the way his voice sets your stomach on fire, you know the way his voice gets you to do things to yourself you never thought you would, the way his voice gets you begging and moaning in the darkness and quiet of your own room. 

you finally break down days later. work keeps wearing you down, but you’re past the point of being dejected and exhausted, today you come home from work huffing and irritated. when you finally lie down to sleep in the early hours of the night you realize that your restlessness is going to keep you up all night. you ignore the pit in your stomach as you finally reach for your phone, swiping it open and scrolling to the app that you’ve been avoiding for days. 

you scroll through all the new audios, none really piquing your interest. you knew that there was going to be something new from gaz but your stomach still jumps when you catch his profile picture. you haven’t looked at his profile since the grocery store disaster but yeah. that’s the guy. something settles in your stomach as your finger clicks on the new audio. the audio description and tags catch you off guard.

I just can’t stop thinking about her. 

[M4F] [Ramblefap] [Unscripted] [Masturbation Noises] [Direct To Listener]

you’re clicking on the play button without even thinking about it, gaz’s voice quickly filling the room. and again, it’s just another confirmation, the voice coming from your phone was the same voice from the grocery store. fuck. 

“i usually don’t do audios like this,” and he doesn’t, his audios are usually scripted roleplays. sometimes he’s pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes he’s pretending to be a friend who's harboring feelings for you, and he has an affinity for pretending to be a vampire during october. he’s quite a talented writer, his dialogues always coming across as authentic and immersive in the scene. but right now his voice sounds almost a little shy? like he’s not sure about what he’s doing. it’s cute, you have to admit, a man who usually seems to be confident in whatever role he’s playing, sounding so unsure of himself as he’s being himself.

“but, i’ve just had someone on my mind for days and every time i sit down and try to write a new script it just turns into her.” lucky broad, you can’t help but think. “so i just thought i’d get it out of my system. well, until i see her again and then it starts all over again.” he cuts himself off with a little laugh and it makes you feel warm inside like you usually do while listening to him. he wasn’t the most personable person on the platform, he used a nickname and didn’t have any pieces of his actual identity attached to his account but he always let little nuggets of his personality shine through whatever audio he was recording.

you hear some rustling in the background of the audio and your mind is supplying a visual of him now, much more detailed and accurate than prior to seeing him. you imagine him laid out on his bed, body long and lean against dark bedding, maybe something blue like his hat. “i should probably start by admitting that i did a bad thing. i know i sometimes pretend to be your sweet and attentive boyfriend, but sometimes i do things i shouldn’t. bit of a bad boy, i fear.” there’s that laugh again, a cheeky little thing. you can tell from his voice that he’s getting more comfortable with this unfamiliar format. it makes you relax, too.

“ran into a soft, pretty thing while i was out at the shops the other day.” you almost don’t hear the click of a cap over your brain malfunctioning, presumably lube with the sticky sounds that follow. it must just be a coincidence, right? he must be talking about some other fat girl he met at the shops, right? “felt a pair of eyes on me while i was waiting at the counter and found her eyeing me up.”

he sighs a soft breath, the slick sounds of his hand on his cock picking up. your arousal is secondary to the dumbfounded amazement you feel at each word he says. “she seemed a little embarrassed that i caught her staring, but i was flattered to have such a pretty thing looking at me like that.” 

you keep trying to convince yourself it’s just a coincidence because things like this just don’t happen. there’s no way that the hot guy from the grocery store is the hot british guy from your audio porn. there’s no way. “her arse looked fucking incredible in the jeans she was wearing and i just, sometimes i can’t control myself around an arse like that. i got up right behind her, and i know you’re not supposed to do that but - fuck- i just needed to get closer.”

his words aren’t as smooth anymore, his voice isn’t as humorous, instead it’s dripping with his usual heat. you almost don’t want to continue listening, almost too nervous to hear any more details, but you can’t get yourself to hit pause. “she was just standing there so i made like i had to reach around her to grab something. sick little thing for me to do, but fuck did it feel good to be that close.”

it’s like your mind turns back on and you’re able to hit the pause button, going further to swipe out of the app entirely before burying your face in your pillows. you were so fucked.

#gator.writing #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #fat reader

[gatorlovebot]

imagine being simon’s personally appointed handmaiden. a very uncommon practice for a king, but he was also unwed, uncommon for a king of his status and age.

a very gruff man with a hard exterior but over the years you two had developed a great rapport with one another. mostly waiting to be behind closed doors to really let loose when it came to both of your respective personalities. in front of the other staff and royalty you were quiet and obedient, but when it was just you and simon you could rib the masked king for days, feeling a thrill in your stomach whenever you got him to huff out a laugh. he could dish it right back though, pulling mind numbing puns from out of nowhere that you pretend aren’t funny. it makes him laugh even harder when you roll your eyes, your only acknowledgement of his “jokes”.

you two were very close, spending most of your waking moments with him. you didn’t expect to like it as much as you do when you were originally appointed to be the king’s sole handmaiden. the king was quite intimidating, the task itself seemed so daunting and you had just assumed that he would be using you for more nefarious duties. while a life of servitude may not have been what you pictured for yourself, a life of servitude for simon was definitely not what you had pictured either.

he was big and imposing and impossible to wake up in the morning. over time you had resorted to flicking water in his face when he was getting really close to sleeping through some of his important appointments that morning.

he liked his baths scalding hot. you would turn your back to him as he shrugged off his robe and submerged himself in the steamy water, pretending to futz with his towels. you always felt something in your heart settle when you heard his deep and satisfied sigh as he finally allowed his muscle to relax under the hot water.

he always wanted you to pick out his clothes. didn’t matter the ocassion either, he said you never lead him astray with your choices. you always felt a sense of smug, satisfation when he finally lumbered out of bed and pulled on the clothes that you had already laid out for him without a word.

the other servants talk, of course. whispers and rumors bouncing off the castle walls about all the time you spent with the king. you tried not to let it get to you, simon promising to get rid of anyone who spoke a cross word about you. he was a man of his word, having banished a knight the month prior who had made an awful joke about the little peasant girl keeping the king’s bed warm at night.

your relationship with simon had well surpassed just your duties, he was kind and although you would never say it to anyone because he’s the fucking king, you consider him a friend. but you can’t help but realize how many moments you two have had recently. moments that cross the bounds of your relationship.

you sat in your little stool behind the tub simon currently was sprawled out in. having just finished washing out all the soap from his blonde hair you sat back, relaxing your aching body for a moment before you would have to get him out and send him off to bed.

“long day, ah?” he commented.

all you could do was hum in affirmation, eyes closed enjoying the quiet of the king’s large bathroom.

“here,” he murmured, not wanting to disrupt the quiet tranquility you two had created, “pop your feet in.”

you cracked an eye open to see him start sitting up in the tub, turning back to you. “what?”

once he saw he had your attention he settled himself back down, shoulders against the basin of the tub. “slip your shoes off and just,” he motioned to his shoulders, voice dipping low. you could picture his eyes slipping shut again.

you hesitated for a moment, realizing the gravity of what he was asking of you. but he was also your king and even though you two had an unconventional relationship, you dare not go against his wishes.

you slip your shoes off and bunch your skirt up in your hands, pulling it over your knees as to not get it wet. you did as you were instructed and pulled a leg over each of his shoulders, shuddering at the hot water alleviating the tenderness in your feet.

“feel good?” simon pondered.

“yes, very much so,” you can’t help but smile, “thank you, simon”

he laughs to himself, just a little breath huffed through his nose, “anytime.”

you slipped your eyes back shut and allowed yourself a moment to sit and breathe and relax. the feeling of movement snaps you out of your reverie, simon reaching up a hand to loosely hold around your ankle. you see his head shift, his stubbly cheek resting against your calf. you had asked him if he wanted to shave before his bath, but he declined, cranky from his long day and just wanting to get into his bath.

you’re shocked at the touch, not as if you and simon hadn’t shared casual touches before but this seemed. emotional. intimate.

you dare not upset your king, but you know something like this can’t go on for much longer. “should probably get you to bed soon, your highness.” you know he hates it when you use his title when it's just the two of you, but you feel the need to have a degree of separation between the two of you, if not you fear you might do something stupid like reach down and get your fingers through his hair.

simon sighs against your skin and you burn at the way you can feel his lips moving, “just a little bit longer, please?”

you can never deny your king, but you never want to deny simon.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #i don't typically go for royalty aus but i thought about ghost king last night and just had to start writing my thoughts down lol #king simon

[gatorlovebot]

can't stop thinking about the way price would comfort you after spanking your ass red and raw. you weren't surprised in the slightest when he finally grabbed you and fiercily pulled you over his knee. you've had an unbelievably shitty week at work and not wanting to burden john with your trivial work drama, you've bottled things up. but unfortunately for the both you, when you bottle up your feelings you usually become petulant, short, irritable. a brat.

john can only handle it for so long.

he uses his wide palm to turn your ass red hot, the skin raised and inflamed after each spank. he shows you a little bit of mercy, not making you count out his strikes. instead he allows you to hide your face in the bed where he's perched as you cry big fat tears into your comforter.

your tears aren't because of the pain, that's secondary. it's the release of all of your pent up emotions from the week finally spilling over with the help of john's harsh hand. his strikes eventually stop, his hand coming to rest over each cheek, humming at the heat radiating off your inflamed skin. his hands are rough, the callouses catching your tender skin, but you know he's not doing it on purpose. john wouldn't hesitate to put you in your place when he knew you needed it, but he never pushed you too far.

his palm travels from your ass, trailing up your spine until it rests against the nape of your neck, giving you a gentle squeeze, a physical check in, before murmuring, "come on up, dove."

you scramble into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck to burrow your head in the crock of his neck. your safe place. he in turns wraps his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as his big palms stroke up and down your back. you tremble against him trying to collect yourself, knowing he was waiting for you. he cradles you gently, protectively, as you hiccup, "i'm sorry for being a brat."

one of his hands reaches back up to the nape of your neck, gently pulling you from your little spot so he can look at you. you must look a mess, cheeks wet with tears, eyes red and blurry, bottom lip trembling. but you can only see adoration in his eyes as he pulls you up to give you a gentle kiss to your forehead. you slump back into his lap at his tenderness. "i know you're never a brat just to be a brat."

"uh-huh." you agree, nodding dumbly as you try to calm your breathing and hide your face again against his burly body.

"mhmm," he hums against your temple, pressing kisses into your hair, "i know you always try to be good for me, so something must have really been getting at you this week. feel like you can finally share with me what's been going on, dove?"

#gator.writing #tried to write something cute and short but of course i just kept going so that's why it ends like that lol #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price imagine #captain john price

[gatorlovebot]

cw: scent kink (sfw)

price had finally gotten back home after nearly two months away. his flight back home had been delayed by hours and hours and you begrudgingly agreed to go to sleep instead of continuing to wait up for him. it was mostly selfish of him, giddy on the drive home from the airport to be welcomed home by your languid, sleeping form.

you had left the bedside lamp on, illuminating the soft dips and curves of your body underneath the comforter. he drops his duffle bag by the bedroom door and makes his way over to your bedside. your hair is a mess and your letting out little snores that you'll deny in the morning.

he barely tear his eyes off of your face, until he notices you holding something to your chest, real tight. it was a piece of fabric, white and discolored in some areas. it definitely wasn't one of your stuffed animals. he reached for the little bundle in your arms and realized that it was one his old under shirts.

he marvels at you. curled up with one of his old shirts, nose tucked into the soft fabric. just a testament of how much you missed him these past weeks. but then he notices the color of the collar, tinged yellow and stretched out. one of his old workouts shirts.

his quirks one of his brows at the discovery, at the way you have your nose buried in his sweaty and smelly shirt. you always found ways to surprise him. you tried to gently pull it out of your grasp. you make a soft, confused sound in the back your throat, reaching for the shirt in your half awake state. you blink your eyes slowly, adjusting to the light and your face relaxing at the sight of him. john, you mumble.

hi, little dove. he presses the words into your skin, kissing your cheek. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to lie on top of you.

you nuzzle into his neck, reveling in the feeling of his scratchy beard against your skin, in his musky scent. you sigh, bear. you're on the verge of sleep again, eyelids heavy and body and mind so relaxed knowing that he was finally home. you blink your bleary eyes open at his deep chuckle. you watch him pull the shirt from between your bodies, holding it up for you to see.

i was going to shower before joining you in bed, but maybe you'd rather me not.

you roll your eyes at his cocky smirk, simply just pulling him back to you, take a satisfying inhale of his musky, sweaty neck.

#gator.writing #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price imagine #captain price x reader #captain john price

[gatorlovebot]

continuation of this blurb here. read the rest of king!simon blurbs here.

you had gone to sleep in your our own bed for the first time in weeks, at the absolute horror of your king.

(“what if i start internally bleeding in my sleep and you’re not here?”

“well, your highness, the doctor said the risk of complication was almost at zero now. and how would i even be able to tell if you were bleeding internally?”)

it wasn’t an easy conversation, having to put your foot down to your king for the first time in a while. but you felt it was important to go back to your routine. put a little bit of space between the two of you again.

you would be lying if you said the encounter with simon’s new secretary hadn’t stuck with you. he only had to take one look at you to decide that you were nothing more than someone to keep simon’s bed warm. you know that’s not true, you know that your relationship with simon is complex and one based on respect and honor. but you can’t help but let the looks and the harsh words from others eat away at you.

you weren’t excited to start sleeping in your lumpy bed again, but you needed to face the reality that this is your life, your life is not sleeping in simon’s bed every night.

but when you awaken, you awake to a sharp pain across your skull and blurry vision. you had felt fine the previous evening, having walked all the way down to your sleeping quarters with no issues. you had no idea what could possibly be making your head feel this way. you force yourself onto your feet and that seems to make the pain worse, pressure behind your eyes making you want to curl up and cry. you took pride in being by simon’s side everyday but you would be no help to him in this condition.

you make the trek to the grand kitchen, hoping to intercept one of the maids before they bring up simon’s breakfast. usually by now you would be upstairs, picking out simon’s clothes. as he’d dress you’d accept breakfast from a maid at the door and the two of you would eat together. that wouldn’t be happening this morning.

once you make it to the kitchen you squint through all of the light streaming in from the big windows and feel relief when you see the maid who usually brings up simon’s breakfast prepping the trays.

she notices you before you can open your mouth to speak, “oh, it’s you.” she remarks, sounding shocked. “what a sight, to see you outside of the king’s room for once.”

it’s an easy dig, a version you’ve heard many times, but it digs up shame, knowing that sleeping in simon’s bed for the past weeks will make the gossip and teasing even worse for you. but you can’t begin to deal with that now in your stricken state.

“yes, i woke up in my bed this morning with terrible pain in my head.” you begin to explain. you don’t know why you even tell her you were in your bed, she probably won’t even believe you or care. “when you bring up his breakfast, could you please inform him that i won’t be available to assist him today?”

she smirks and if it was any other day you’d give it back to her but right now you feel like you can barely stand on your own feet. you just try to grit your teeth and brace for her response, “i bet the king will be devastated,” she teases, “oh well, maybe i’ll just have to offer the king my own services.”

good luck with that, you think, reflecting on the countless times simon has rebuffed the advances of other female staff. simon wasn’t someone who cared about intimacy or companionship, he’d rather laugh in the face of another handmaiden who tried to seduce him with their big bust size than let them in his bed.

“best of luck with that.” you dig back before turning back to make the walk to your sleeping quarters.

you could cry when you finally reach your room, legs giving out the last few steps to your bed, body so exhausted from the painful assault going on in your head. you curl up under your blanket, using your pillow to cover your eyes to block out any light as you pray for sleep.

you awake to a knocking at your door. letting out expletives as you untangle yourself from your blankets. your head still feels like its being split open, maybe the sleep made it worse. you manage to make it to the door and when you open it reveals the concerned face of one of simon’s guards. simon’s guards were some of the only men on castle grounds that you felt comfortable around as they were always pleasant and kind, wishing you a good morning and a good evening as you came and went from the king’s chambers.

“the king sent for me, he’s concerned about your wellbeing and doesn’t want to continue his day without you.” the guard explains as you squint against the light coming in from the corridor. “he ordered me to bring you up to him, regardless of your condition. or your protests.” he tacks on, with a hint of humor in his voice. the guards are pretty much the only members of simon’s men that understands your true relationship with the king. they hear your inside jokes, the way you talk to the king casually, they understand your friendship to the king unlike anyone else.

“i figured simon would send someone for me.” you sighed, knowing how stubborn simon can be and how little he takes no as an answer. you figured he would want to see you with his own eyes before going on with his day without you. “can i hold onto your arm? i don’t think i can make it up all those stairs on my own.”

the guard wordlessly holds his arm out to you and you loop yours around it, thankful for the kind gesture. you make your way up to the king's chambers, heavily leaning against the guard the entire trip with your eyes squinted against all the light coming into the castle. it’s a relief when you finally reach simon’s door.

the guard leads you inside and presents you to simon, who was stood at the end of his bed looking at pairs of pants strewn across the blankets. “your highness,” the guard announces, “your handmaiden, as requested.”

simon gives you an assessing look before nodding to the guard, “thank you, back to position.” the guard leaves the room and you begin to make your way over to simon’s bed to sit, but he intercepts you before you make it. he places his big hands on your shoulders to halt your movement and gives your face an appraising look. “the maid that brought me my breakfast said you weren’t able to execute your duties today.”

you nod as you squint up at him, “i woke with a terrible pain in my head.” there’s a slight whine in your voice that you would feel embarrassed about if you weren’t consumed by the white, hot pain in your skull.

he raises one of his eyes, “you were just going to suffer by yourself?” he questions, leading you over to his bed and you shamelessly sink into the soft blankets, curling up around his perfectly tailored pants.

“what else was i supposed to do?” you mewl, feeling like a child being scolded by their mother. when you awoke this morning you felt that the best course of action was to allow the pain to pass on your own, you were no use to simon and maybe a day apart would do the both of you some good.

he picks up one of your limp hands and brings it up his face, lips brushing against your palm as he growls out, “you don’t have the choice to hide from me.”

“simon,” you try to counter but he’s already releasing your hand and turning back towards the door. your motivations for staying in your chambers were pure, you couldn't keep up with simon today in your state, but it seems that maybe he had caught on to your little plan of keeping distance between each other. even after all of these years you had no idea why he always needed you when he had a number of other female staff.

“i’m going to call for the doctor, i need you better so you can help me pick out some fucking pants.”

#gator.writing #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanon #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost x reader #cod x reader #king simon

[gatorlovebot]

king simon masterlist

imagine being simon’s personally appointed handmaiden. a very uncommon practice for a king, but he was also unwed, uncommon for a king of his status and age. all parts of the series in chronological order, updated 10/19/23.

a very gruff man with a hard exterior

simon liked it just being the two of you in most moments

you had accompanied simon far, far outside of the kingdom

you weren’t expecting to have a good morning when you made your way up to simon’s chambers

you had left the room for only a moment

it had been three days since simon had been stabbed

in the days following simon’s failed assissination

you had gone to sleep in your our own bed for the first time in weeks

simon was never really one to listen to his court

you needed an escape

the days following your dispute with simon

the travel was long

it seemed as if your little walk through the park

stand alone fics set in the verse but not anywhere specific in the plot

in your months of serving under the king you had few complaints.

#king simon #gator.writing #let me know if something doesn't work!

[gatorlovebot]

read more king!simon here

simon liked it just being the two of you in most moments.

he didn’t want to be surrounded by people, didn’t want to be followed around by young page boys or secretaries hanging off his every word. he wanted quiet and he wanted his space, something that few little people in his royal court could understand. he didn’t want one person bathing him, and then another person dressing him, and then another person accompanying him to his meals. no, he just wanted one person and that person was you.

simon never liked the idea of marriage. when offered even as a tool to gain more political power he would scoff, why share his life with someone who he didn’t even potentially like for just a touch more power? simon already felt powerful enough, he didn’t need a union to prove it. he didn’t want a union, didn’t want someone that close. but sometimes, in the dead of night, when the castle was dark and quiet, king simon would yearn.

and that’s why he picked you. someone who could be close, but not too close. and maybe you didn’t even know it, but you always played by simon's rules. 

sure he liked his sleep, but he liked watching you more. lounging in his silk sheets like a lion while the sun begins to stream in from the curtains. watches you as you go through his closet, picking out this and that for him to wear, watching each little expression that crosses your face as you ponder outfit choices for him.

he loves to press his luck in the morning. loves to keep his eyes closed and hear your little voice whine, “siiiimon, you’re going to be late.”

every morning he awaits to hear your footsteps in his room, puttering around, careful not to wake him. he’s been up for almost an hour waiting for your arrival. he does begin to doze as he awaits your hands on his shoulders, urging him to get up. but your hands never come, instead he feels beads of cold water on his face and his eyes shoot open. 

you’re stood there, at the edge of his bed, with a shit eating grin on your face. before he can even grasp at words, grasp at you, you’re turning away from him, “time to wake up, your highness.” you sing song. 

king simon was fucked.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #thanks for all the love on my first little bit of this! #probably won't turn this into a full fleshed out fic but will instead just post little snippets like this bc it works better for my brain l #king simon

[gatorlovebot]

honesty

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: john doesn't like liars. wc: 2.4k warnings: overstimualtion, penetration. a/n: this was supposed to be just a quick little thing about you faking an orgasm for price...and then i started projecting. whoops!

The one thing John Price has always asked of you is honesty. It’s not a hard thing to do when he’s so good at sussing out lies. 

Like when he’s been on a mission for just a little too long and you’ve just had one of the worst days in recent memory. Over the phone you tell him, “Oh, my day was fine, that project at work is coming along nicely.”

“Love.” He stops you. 

“What?” You croak out over the other line, your resolve dropping with each passing second.

“Come on, sweetheart, give us the truth.” His voice is so deep and warm and just like that you’re folding yourself up in your worn couch cushions as your voice warbles across the line. Stuttering and hiccuping as you begin to explain that your day was not fine and that your boss keeps giving you more and more tasks with less and less time to complete each one and that you just really fucking miss him. 

He coos at you and tells you to slow down in that gentle yet commanding way he always does when your emotions start getting too big for you to talk through. He praises you for getting through the day and thanks you for even being on the phone with him. Guilt tugs at his shoulders, something in his brain telling him to let you go so you can unwind and relax on your own. But the selfish part of him always seems to win everytime - he always wants to be the one to hear your cries and chase them away with the smooth timber of his voice.

He can’t help himself to make a quip about your boss, “Overworking you like tha’, ya’ know - I could easily find his address, maybe show up at his place-”

“No, John,” You whine, “I need this job.”

“ No, you don’t, you can just stay-”

“John,” You interject as sternly as you can be with him to try to stop the conversation you two have had hundreds of times. 

“Sweetheart,” He starts, the pause making you think he was going to continue, going to push you just a little bit more, but all he says is, “Thanks for being honest.”

John had been home from a mission for a couple days and since then you’ve found yourself in this position too many times to even count. You on your back, legs high up on John’s shoulders as he connects you two by the hips. His breathing is heavy as he pumps himself into your wet cunt, his presence all encompassing. 

You’d come home from work a few hours prior, your first day back at the office since taking a few days off to really savor and enjoy your time with John. Your first day back had been just as bad as every other day at the office. The only thing holding you together was knowing that Price would be waiting for you when you got home.

Your home was warm and smelt delicious as you entered. Kicking off your shoes and shucking off your jacket to the sounds of John in the kitchen. The table was set and you turned to look in the kitchen  to see John pulling a pan out of the oven. “Oh, welcome home.” He must not have heard you come in over the sound of a record blaring from the record player he had tucked away on the counter. He put the pan down on the stove and turned the music down as he made his way over to you. You go easily into his arms as he engulfs you with his body. You nuzzle your face into his chest, taking in the scent of the deep green henley he was wearing - your laundry detergent and his natural musk. 

After a long, long moment he finally shoos you out of the kitchen to sit at the dining table as he plates up everything in the kitchen. Dinner is phenomenal - as always when John cooks. You're not bad in the kitchen but nothing you come up with for yourself is as good as what John makes for you when he’s home. 

After dinner you force John to let you help clean up with him in the kitchen. Once the leftovers are put in the fridge and the dishes are all put away he leads you back out of the kitchen again and sits you down on the couch. “Oh, so tense, sweetheart.” He coos at you as he pulls you closer to him and gets his big, rough hands on your shoulders. “What’s got my sweet girl so tense, huh?”

All you can do is hum as you melt into his hands. You hear him chuckle to himself behind you, “Don’t worry, love, I got ‘ya.”

Over time his hands start to wander from your shoulders down your back to fidget with the waistband of your pants. It’s you who decides to break the tension, skin feeling hot from his hands as you turn to face him, “Take me to bed, Captain.”

And that’s how you end up here, on your back, John above you and your orgasm feeling so close but just not close enough. It makes you feel awful. John had this perfect night for you and you couldn’t just shut your brain off for once. Time kept stretching by and you know John, know that his goal is to always make you cum first before he even thinks about himself. He usually has no problem at making you a wet, trembling mess but tonight you felt like it was just too far out of reach and the guilt was starting to settle in your stomach. You just wanted him to cum, to finally make him feel as good as he made you feel. It’s hard to think through the sounds of his hot grunts but you decide a little white lie is worth it for John. But he’s very good at reading you, almost too good. And he’s really good at pulling different kinds of orgasms out of you. Like when the way his cock slides against your walls takes you by surprise and your mouth drops open on a silent gasp and all you can do is look up at him with big, wet watery eyes and wonder how someone could make you feel this good. Or when he’s on his way to giving you your fourth orgasm and you can barely keep your eyes open and your tongue is hanging out of your mouth as you pant like a fucking dog in heat. You almost feel bad at the way your sensitive pussy attempts to clench around his cock but he still leans down to whisper, “Good girl.” in your ear. 

You settle for something a little less dramatic, though. You allow your hands to trail up his back to pull him closer to you so he’s not looking directly at your face. You grind your hips to meet his thrusts as you whisper out, “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum for me, love?”

“Yes,” You whimper out emphatically and tack on a sultry moan for good measure before you try your best to clench your walls around his cock. You force yourself to tremble against the sheets underneath him but before you’re finished with your performance he’s sitting up and pulling out of you. 

“What the fuck was that?” He questioned, his face pulled into a confused expression.

Fuck. You’ve been caught. And you should just fess up to faking it so he - “What do you mean? I just came.”

He pulls himself back down to lean over you again, big body blanketing yours. “When you cum,” His voice is dark and low right by your ear, “You greedy little cunt tightens down on me so hard it feels like you’re trying to break my cock off to keep it inside you.”

Unfortunately for you, he’s not wrong. He sits back up again on his heels and before your brain can catch up and form a reply he’s pointing at your glistening cunt, “Whatever that was, was fucking pathetic.”

You gasp at the insult as shame burns in your chest. “John, I’m sorry.” You plead, your voice sounding pitiful even to your own ears. “I just - I just couldn’t make it happen but I really wanted you to cum.”

You couldn’t tell if he was even listening to your weak little ramble because he was leaning over the side of the bed, rooting around in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You watch him pull out your vibrating wand, something you really only use when John is gone on a mission and you need quick relief. He’s not even looking at you, too busy looking at the buttons on the wand. His face is hardset and his eyes are dark and you know he’s not actually mad at you but you can’t help the nervous feeling bubbling up in your stomach. “John, are you mad at me?”

He finally looks back down at you where you’re still nestled in the pillows. His face is significantly softer as he simply states, “No.” He looks at you purposefully before dropping the toy next to you on the bed and leans back down over you again. Early on in your relationship you had mentioned to him that for whatever reason, being close to him made you feel more comfortable and at ease talking about your feelings and he’s never forgotten it. 

“Making you cum is my favorite thing, why would you deny me that?”

“John, I’m not denying you, I didn’t do it to hurt you or anything. I did it-”

“You did it because you wanted me to feel good, I know.” He cuts you off. “But I don’t give a shit about me. You want me to feel good? You let me make you feel good.” 

He declares it like it's all so simple. And you realize that it is that simple. John Price is a lot of things. He’s stubborn when he wants to be. Sometimes a little too intense, been a bit too crass a time or two. But John Price is a giver. He takes care of his people first and that’s one of the many things you love about him.

Too lost in your own thoughts for John’s liking you feel him start to paw at your waist, pulling your hips into the cradle of his own. He nuzzles his face along your neck, nosing behind your ear so he can whisper into your skin, “Please, sweet girl, let me take care of you. Let me provide for you.”

“Let me provide for you.”

It hits you deep in your gut and tickles an itch in your brain - the one that always says, “Just quit your job and let John take care of you, he’s so good at it.” 

His words have you begging in an instant, “Yes, John, please, take care of me.” You plead.

His grip on you tightens as he rumbles against your skin, obviously pleased with your response. “Thank you, love.” He whispers, “Now, you just got to promise me not to lie about this shit again.”

“I promise,” You whimper out as he sits up again.

“Good girl,” He praises before picking up the wand again. “For your honesty and vulnerability I think you deserve a reward.” He says cheekily, with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he clicks the vibe on. You watch, entranced, as he brings the wand down gently on your sensitive clit. You jolted at the shock of pleasure, having forgotten how powerful its vibrations were while letting out little shocked, “Oh my god”s. 

“Yeah, ya’ like that?” John teases down at you, “How about I give you something else?” He asks as you feel one of his fingers sink into your wet cunt. The vibe relentless on your clit and his finger dragging along that sensitive spot in your pussy has you writhing on his fingers in pleasure. Just minutes ago you were throwing in the towel when it came to reaching your high and now it felt like it was coming out of nowhere. 

As your stomach clenches and you feel pleasure zip up your thighs you feel a pang of panic - what if it will feel like too much? “John,” You gasp, “I can’t do it-”

“No, no, you got this,” He reassures you in that deep, soothing voice, “just hold on to me.”

And you do, reaching out to grasp his muscled forearm as your orgasm finally rips through you, bringing tears to your eyes at its intensity. You barely register John’s voice but it makes your gut twist in a delicious way, “There she is, that’s my girl.”

He clicks the vibe off and extracts his finger from your weeping cunt. He gathers you up in his arms, cradling you in his lap as you catch your breath. Even with an orgasm that good you were still craving more - craving him.

“Please, John.” You beg into his shoulder.

“Please, what, love? Just tell me and I’ll give it to ya’.” His words sounded almost frantic.

“Fuck me, John.”

The noise he makes in your ear is almost a growl as he lifts you higher in his lap to sink you down on his cock. You moan in tandem as your walls wrap deliciously around him. His thrusts are brutal, rocking you up and down in his lap and even with how sensitive you are you wouldn’t have it any other way. His cock glides across all your sensitive spots just right and when you bare down on him it makes your clit throb. He reaches down your body to place a big thumb on your clit, pressure sending you over the edge once again.

You tremble in his arms as he keeps you up, muttering, “Yeah, clench that cunt, make me cum.”

You hear him grunt as you feel his cock pulse within your walls, wet and warm, groaning through his orgasm. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he lays you back down against the soft sheets. “So,” He starts, still winded, “what did we learn about lying?”

“Um,” You pretend to think, “if I lie, you’ll fuck me really good?”

“No!” He barks out a laugh, making your heart sing, before he pinches your thigh, leaning down to swallow your surprised yelp in a searing kiss. 

When you pull away after a long, languid moment he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “Thank you for making me be honest.” You blurt out.

His responding little smile makes you feel warm all the way to your bones. “Thanks for letting me take care of ya’.”

#gator.writing #john price x reader #john price x you #john price smut #cod smut #captain john price

[gatorlovebot]

thinking about retired simon who is basically able to live his life as a puppy with you full time now that he has no responsibilities or a career. he fattens up because he’s your perfect boy who deserves treats all the time and you let him lick your plate clean after meals. when you go to work he spends the day cleaning the house, running errands for you and your guys’ home, everything to take care of you. he puts dinner in the oven and lays out clean clothes for you to change into and then waits by the door for you to come home from work like the good boy he is <3

#gator.writing #puppy simon #not any new thoughts but these were the thibns that have been popping in my head lately #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

[gatorlovebot]

this is a continuation of this king!simon blurb. read more of my king!simon blurbs here.

in the days following simon’s failed assisination there were changes made to the royal court. simon’s secretary, would never see the light of day again, his execution date set just a few weeks away. simon had demanded that it wait until he was well enough to go in to town to watch it for himself. you knew you would be expected to accompany him, but you didn’t know if you could stomach the spectacle. but all it took was you thinking of simon’s weak plead for help that day and any sympathy you had for the secretary and the position he had landed himself in were gone.

it had just been you and simon for the past few days. rare appearances from the doctor just to check on simon, make sure his healing was going as it should have been. he would grumble at every knock on the door disturbing the peace between the two of you, making you get out of his bed. you opened the door for the kitchen staff to bring in trays of delicious food for the two of you, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

it almost felt like you were in your own little bubble with your king. not to say it usually didn’t feel like that, stealing knowing glances in public, passing each other notes during boring meetings, spending almost every waking moment together. but now you were spending every moment together, crawling into bed with him late at night under the guise of someone needing to be in the room to make sure the king didn’t suffer some serious medical complication during the night with no one around to witness. but no complications or emergencies ever occurred, just you listening to his loud snores and counting his breaths as you lie against his chest.

the bubble, of course, has to pop at some point. i mean, he’s the king, and the kingdom needs its king back at some point.

after about a week there’s another knock on the door. simon made sure to tell his guards not to let anyone inside his chambers without going through you first. it’s not a designated meal time, so you expect to see the doctor, but you’re surprised to see an unfamiliar face standing next to one of simon’s most trusted advisors. all the advisor does is give you a polite, tight lipped smile as he walks past you into the room. his companion gives you a nod before following.

you’re used to it, being treated this way by the men that are closer to simon in creed than you are. you know that in your heart no one will ever be closer to simon than you, but there’s also a nasty little bitterness that tugs at you when simon’s men treat you like shit. you’re safe in your position with simon, not having to worry about losing your duty as his handmaiden since he’s assured you there’s no one else who could ever replace you, but you’ve also never felt comfortable standing up for yourself in the face of simon’s royal court. they are men who believe themselves to be higher than you, yet they understand your closeness to the king so they talk about you behind your back and more importantly behind simon’s back.

you will yourself to shut the door and turn back into the room, knowing simon’s mood will be soured with the unexpected intrusion. you had left him at his writing desk when you fetched the door, there were a few documents that had piled up in his absence that he was finally going through, nothing of great importance he had reassured you, but he had to get around to reading them at some point.

“your highness, it’s so good to see you looking better. we’ve greatly missed you these past few days.” his advisor greets.

“oh, i bet you’ve all just been twiddling your thumbs waiting around for me to resume my duties.” simon remarks, making himself chuckle. you politely try to stifle your laugh as you take a seat on the edge of simon’s bed.

“well, actually,” the advisor starts, “i’ve been working on finding you a new secretary, one that won’t try and kill you.” the advisor gives somewhat of a forced chuckle but the attempted joke falls flat. simon just gives him unamused eyes and an expectant look to continue.

“right, well, i found one and i just wanted to introduce you to him before he starts to take control of your affairs.” the advisor explains quickly, sensing simon’s impatience with the whole ordeal.

you had to admit that simon could be difficult. never really with you, but with other members of the staff and even with his royal court. the men that were closest to him he still kept at a distance, only half listening to their advice most of the time. simon was a man that knew what he wanted, knew how to rule his kingdom.

“it is an absolute privilege to work under you, your highness.” you do your very best to stifle your giggles as the new secretary bows to a very unimpressed looking simon. the advisor cuts his eyes to you and you can’t help but straighten under his scrutiny, but just for a moment until you remind yourself that you don’t answer to him.

“what a great show,” simon comments, voice dripping with disinterest. you’re shocked that he hasn’t ordered them to leave yet. “well, i hope you’re proficient in letter writing and note taking. and that you know how to keep your mouth shut until spoken too. that wasn’t the last secretary’s strong suit, was it?” the question is directed at you, more of an inside joke than anything. you can’t even count how many times you simon had shared knowing looks of boredom everytime the last secretary opened up his mouth.

you just smile, “not at all, your highness.”

the new secretary gives you a long look, one that lasts too long for your liking, seemingly trying to assess you. he’s snapped back into reality after a moment when simon clears his throat roughly, “yes, your highness, i am proficient in grammar and spelling and am ready to handle all duties assigned to me.”

you’ve seen this before, many times. new young blood trying to suck up to the king and it’s always so comical to you because at the end of the day simon does not care. simon doesn’t care about the little shit his court does or how they do it, as long as it gets done. he’s well aware that it takes more than just a king to rule a kingdom, but he doesn’t find it to be particularly important to be close to or even fond of any of his court members, except for you.

“well, the most important thing is that you need to get along with my handmaiden.” all eyes cut to you and you can’t help but feel a little unease, knowing that neither men probably understand or care about your role to the king. they probably just see you as nothing more than a woman in his bed. “she accompanies me wherever i go so she needs to always be aware of my appointments and affairs.”

“ahh, aren’t you a lucky king,” the secretary remarks with a glint in his eye that makes your stomach turn, “having a pretty young lady to follow you around wherever you go.”

simon suddenly stands from his chair, walking the short distance until he’s towering over the new secretary. “if that’s all that you think of her then you can pack your shit up now and leave.”

“no, no, your highness,” the secretary quickly attempts to back pedal. you can’t help but feel a little bit of satisfaction as he squirms like a cornered prey animal. simon is imposing and using his size advantage to strike fear into the man, you feel a flash of heat in your gut that you try not to think about. “i simply misunderstood, my apologies. i’m so pleased to be able to a serve under the both of you.”

under the both of you

almost like king and queen, you think, before physically shaking your head to try and rid the ludacris thoughts away. you weren’t queen and you never would be with the way simon’s men were trying to set him up with any and every available female royal on the planet.

simon just gives the secretary a hard look before cutting his eyes back to his advisor. “well, seems like we’re done here. you two get to work.”

you watch as they both thank simon for his time and scurry out of the room. he walks back and takes a seat at his desk, picking up one of the documents and going back to reading.

it’s almost comical, unintentionally, the way he scares someone shitless and then just goes back to doing something mundane. you can’t help but just look at him, wondering for the nth time how you got to be so close to this man.

“you’re staring,” he comments, not even looking up from the paper in his hand.

“i think you scared him.” you remark, feeling the need to acknowledge simon’s anger at the secretary’s words. he’s always been protective of you, holding you close to him in public, always having you stand next to him at his throne, speaking highly of you to anyone that will listen. lately he’s been more sharp with his men about you. it wages a war inside of you, part of you feeling the shame that his men desperately want you to feel, the other part of you feeling smug about having the king in your back pocket.

“good,” simon retorts, “i’ll make him wet himself the next time he says another cross word about you.”

“simon!” you shriek, “how crass of you.”

all he does is get up from his chair and walk over to the bed, pulling you down into his arms to try and suppress your giggles.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #cod imagine #cod x reader #king simon

[gatorlovebot]

more gaz vampire stuff because i can't stop thinking about but this time it's pricegaz x reader because i love writing poly 141 lol. hope you like it @ghosts-cyphera <3

cw: blood, descriptions of blood sucking

thinking more vampire gaz thoughts and in my mind obviously price was the one to turn gaz all those decades ago. they were in the army together and price, not being able to stand losing another soldier who he had gotten close to during combat, turned kyle.

price taught gaz everything, always kept him close, always wanted to be on the front lines with him, trusted him with everything he had. they had a very special bond. gaz was not shy to tell you about the intimate moments he and price shared throughout the decades they had spent together. he thought it was important for you to know just how much their relationship means to him.

it doesn’t bother you, the two of them having a bond you could never replace or replicate. price holds a special place in gaz’s heart just like kyle holds a special place in your’s.

it’s months into your relationship when you finally get to meet price. kyle had brought it up hesitantly, but you had no problem allowing price into your home for an extended stay. you were honestly kind of excited, having heard so many stories and seen so many photos of the handsome man, some from almost a century ago (that would never fail to blow your mind).

you feel fucked as soon as he walks through your door, the beard and the warm eyes just do it for you. but what really gets you is the way he cradles kyle to him in an embrace.

price is a perfect guest. he cracks jokes in his gruff, accented voice that gaz groans at but has you letting out a surprised giggle at the older man's crudeness. he helps with dinner, telling you that gaz has no excuse not knowing how to properly cook after he's kept him alive for almost one hundred years. and he has stories, so many stories spanning centuries, stories from before he even turned kyle. you're fascinated.

even after only a few days in your home, you three have fallen into a routine. dinners together are very important to price so you and kyle make sure to carve out time in your schedules to plan nice dinners for your esteemed guest. price cooks most of the food more often than not, but it's mostly because he refuses to let you lift a finger, playfully barking orders at kyle while you watch the pair from your spot at the dining table, sipping your wine.

dinner is delicious as always when price is left to lead the kitchen. it's almost cliche the way kyle and price sip at their red wine, the way it colors their lips a beautiful crimson until they inevitably swipe it away with the tips of their tongues when either one catches you staring. the air feels different than the previous nights the three of you had spent together. the food was homey and rich, settling deliciously in your belly. you had turned the lights down, leaving the room glowing warm from the candles you had lit in the center of the dinner table. 

the more you think of it, the more cliche the entire night has felt. you and two vampires drinking wine by candlelight, eating meat that has just barely been seared on the outside. but you can’t complain with the way kyle and price look at you over their wine glasses, sharing glances with each other that you can’t quite decipher. you feel yourself growing wet as the night progresses. 

after the dishes are washed and put away, the two men venture into the living room while you top off your wine. you come back to them on the couch, illuminated by the soft light from a lamp in the corner. you decide to be bold and insert yourself between the two on the cushions, feeling loose and warm as you sip from your glass and watch them share another look. 

kyle hadn’t fed from you since price’s arrival. kyle has gone longer without feeding from you, but you don’t know how long it’s been for price. “so,” you start, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table while you gather your words, “dinner was amazing, as always, but i was wondering if you two were still hungry?”

you try your best to keep a straight face at your terrible come on but your lips can’t help but waver at the way they look at each other, price raising a brow to kyle as if asking for permission. kyle takes another sip of wine before nodding his head just slightly to price. as price snakes his arm around your waist to pull your back against his chest you meet kyle’s gaze and give him a grateful smile.

being fed from was an experience like no other, it quickly became one of your favorite activities with kyle. it was an act of trust and devotion and you had to admit just how fucking erotic it was to watch him get drunk on you. price wraps a big, hairy arm around your waist, “kyle, she’s such a sweet girl, you better be appreciation’ her.”

kyle laughs, a small sound, as he sets his now empty wine glass down on the table, “i do appreciate her, don’t you think, sweetheart?” he’s taken your wrist in his hand, thumb rubbing over your pulse point. you know he can feel it underneath your skin. 

you know what he’s trying to get at, glad that you two are on the same page. “of course kyle appreciates me, john. that’s why i take care of him in return.” you responded, grabbing the hand that was groping the fat of your stomach and placing it around your wrist.

“ahh,” price remarks, “this where kyle does it?” he questions, big thumb sweeping across the thin skin. all you can do is nod under his intense gaze. he smiles, “the neck is quite cliche, isn’t it? and the thigh,” he rolls his eyes, “so fucking juvenile.”

you can’t help but giggle at him, knowing that you’ve allowed kyle to feed from your thighs once or twice. kyle sends you an unimpressed look before price is squeezing your wrist, trying to get your attention back.

“you sure about this, dove?” he probed, and at your nod, he added, “both of us?”

“yeah,” you respond, as easy as ever, “i trust you both.”

“you really got lucky with her, kyle.” john remarks, bringing your wrist up closer to his mouth. you see his fangs for the first time before he sinks them into your flesh, you shudder at his groan.

you feel soft lips kiss your other wrist before the sharp sting of teeth breaks the flesh. you close your eyes and let the floaty feeling wash over you. price pulls away first, laving his tongue over your skin to close the puncture marks he created. he laps up the remaining blood that stains your skin before giving your wrist a final kiss. you open your eyes and meet the red glow of his.

you get lost in them before price is grumbling at kyle, “enough, garrick.”

kyle reluctantly pulls away, lips stained red as he licks over the puncture wounds. he kisses up your wrist to the palm of your hand, kissing each fingertip. his eyes are half-lidded when they finally meet your’s, you two sharing matching dazed smiles. 

price chuckles behind you, using his arm to pull you into his lap. being off balance for just a moment makes you realize how woozy you are, but you don’t have to worry about it for long. “have something you can get for her, kyle?”

kyle doesn’t even respond before he’s off the couch and making his way to the kitchen. you two have your aftercare routine down and you hum to yourself as you listen to him pouring you juice and grabbing sweets from the cupboards, snuggling yourself into price’s chest as he runs his fingers through your hair.

#gator.writing #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #pricegaz #pricegaz x reader

[gatorlovebot]

read more of my king!simon blurbs here

you had accompanied simon far, far outside of the kingdom for a long stretch of days for a reconciliation hearing with another kingdom.

it was you’re first time ever taking a train and during the whole ride there you marveled at the beautiful scenery you drove past. the train car was also very comfortable. plush seats that allowed you to relax on the way there.

the way home on the other hand, was a different story. there was a delay in your travel for some reason or another that set back your return to the castle by hours. the sun already setting by the time the train started moving. the delay put everyone in a sour mood. except, of course, for simon’s secretary.

you’re roused from your sleep when a big presence seemingly throws all of its body weight into the seat, pressed close to you. you know it’s simon before he even talks. “fucking twat won’t shut up about the goddamn treaty.” he grumbled.

you settled back into your seat, shoulders bumping against simon’s. “what did you expect, your highness?”

“i expect to get some fucking peace and quiet.” he griped, tugging on the blanket you had draped over your legs, instead of just asking to share. once you had settled the blanket over the two of you he let out a heavy sigh, “sometimes it seems like you’re the only one that gets it.”

you hum in agreement, “i spend the most time with you out of anyone.” you sink back into the plush seat, cheeks smushing into simon’s shoulder. “i also have common sense.” you giggle to yourself.

“that you do.” he agrees.

you all finally arrive at the castle in the dead of night, simon ordering everyone to go back to their quarters for the night for rest. he turns up the steps to his chambers without a word, signaling to everyone to leave him alone for the rest of the night. you still followed, knowing your day was not done until the king was in bed.

he opts out of a shave with the promise he’ll let you do it in the morning. his bath is hot but mostly out of necessity. after a long day of travel he stinks but is too tired to really soak in the tub like he would prefer, knowing that he'd rather sink back into bed instead of dragging the task out.

you lay out his sleeping garments and once he’s out of the tub you sit down at his writing desk, back turned a little bit to give him some privacy. before you know it your heavy eyelids are drooping shut and you’re slumped over the desk.

simon turns to you, now dressed in the sleep garments you picked out for him. your head is tilted down and he can hear your soft little snores. he’s crossing the distance to you in seconds without even thinking, reaching underneath your legs to hoist you up into his arms.

you startle awake and jerk in his grip, having been much more asleep than you realized. “simon?” you question as he sets you down on the edge of his bed.

you watch as he walks to the other side of the bed, pulling back the blankets. “you should just stay here tonight, no use in you walking all the way down to your quarters in the middle of the night. can’t have you falling on your face if you shut your eyes for too long.”

“simon, i can’t just do that.” you protested. “i can have one of your guards walk me down if you’re so worried.”

he groaned, “no, just,” he huffs and makes his way back over to his closet, the one that holds his everyday clothes. he pulls out a shirt, soft and long, something he’d wear to sleep in the hotter months.

“here,” he tosses it towards you, “just wear this.”

you look at the soft fabric in your hands, contemplating what to do. simon seemed to be in no mood to argue, but you know he would let you leave if you really wanted to. your sleeping quarters were all the way on the other side of the castle, you could cry just thinking about the trek. and his bed was so much more comfortable than your’s. but how would that look? his little handmaiden not coming back to her own bed? the rumors would be something awful in the morning.

“love,” his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “just put it on.”

his soft plea makes up your mind for you. you reach down to unclasp your shoes as you try to ignore the smug little look on his face. you twist your arm to reach back to undo the buttons of your dress but as you struggle to reach the ones up by your neck you feel the bed dip behind you, simon’s fingers working the buttons undone easily, “let me.” he whispers.

you take a deep breath as more and more of your back is exposed to him, his hand trailing down to the last button. he shifts again, “i won’t look.”

with his promise you stand and let the dress pool at your legs, pulling the sleep shirt over your head. you walk back over to his desk, carefully placing your dress over the back of the chair so it doesn’t look too wrinkled in the morning when you inevitably have to go back to your quarters to start your day again.

when you turn back to the bed simon has properly sprawled himself out on one side, underneath the blankets, head cradled by silk lined pillows. you almost feel giddy, as you approach the bed, about to experience a piece of luxury you never thought you ever would.

his soft mattress seems to mold to your body as you sink into it and you can’t suppress the satisfied sigh that leaves your lips as your head finally meets the pillows. simon keeps a respectable distance and before you can even worry about what tomorrow will bring, the world has gone dark again.

you awake to sunlight streaming through the thick curtains that you forgot to close the night before. there’s a warm weight across your back. simon.

you don’t know what time it is, but the deep snores emanating from behind you tells you that he won’t be up anytime soon. you selfishly curl yourself deeper into his embrace and your stomach dips when he in turn squeezes you tighter to his chest.

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #cod reader #king simon

[gatorlovebot]

this is a direct continuation of this piece here. read more of my king!simon blurbs here &lt;3

it had been three days since simon had been stabbed and you, unsurprisingly, had not gotten out of bed. once the carriage leading simon to the hospital was off castle grounds you had become almost inconsolable. sympathetic staff members attempting to get you together, convince you that the king was in good hands, that he was strong and in good health, and that he would make it.

it didn’t matter, none of their words helped the way it felt like your world was truly falling a part right before your eyes. simon was your whole world. he was usually the first person you talked to in the morning and the last person you talked to before going to bed. you shared every meal together, you accompanied him to every outing, every meeting, regardless of how boring. you knew how he took his tea and he was the only one that allowed you to do it, complaining that no one else knew how to do it like you. you washed his hair at night and clung to his arm when you walked around the bustling city with him

it might have been stupid but you considered simon to be your closest friend, and you believed he felt the same about you. what were you supposed to do without your best friend?

in those three days you hadn’t heard anything regarding simon’s condition. everyone in the castle left you alone, to suffer and rot alone in your bed. you were almost scared to leave your room, too afraid to get the confirmation to your worst fear. you know realistically someone would have come to you to break the news if simon had passed, so you’re still holding on to a little bit of hope.

the sun had risen for another day with no word on simon. another day for your emotions to fester and your hope to fade, up until midday, when there was a knock on your door.

your body was heavy and sluggish as you heaved yourself up from your bed to the door. you had no work without the king, so you had spent your days curled in your uncomfortable bed, unmoving. you tried to be hopeful as you reached for the doorknob, but all that you could feel was sorrow as you revealed the doctor on the other side of your door.

he had a small smile on his face that was unreadable to you given the circumstance. was it his attempt at kindness and sympathy before he gave you the terrible news? what is out of pity as he took in your disheveled and unkempt appearance? “hello, my dear.” he greeted in a soft tone.

you couldn’t take it, couldn’t take any pleasantries or politeness, pleading with him to just please tell you whatever he came here to tell you. “well, i’ve had a hell of a morning trying to wrangle our king into his bed.”

“what?” you questioned, your voice laced in astonishment. “he’s-” your voice cracked on the question, eyes welling with tears as you began to grasp the implications of the doctors words.

“alive? yes, yes he is, my dear.” the doctor assured you, taking your hands in his grasp. “i spent all morning monitoring his condition, making sure he was stable enough to finish his recovery in the castle. do you want to know the only thing he asked for?”

you couldn’t come up with an answer, barely even listening to him as all you could think about was that simon was alive.

he squeezed your hands, “you, he only asked for you.”

a sob left your lips, not one of despair, but one of incredulous joy at your king, your simon, wanting you. the doctor let go of your hands and gestured to the door with an expectant expression, “you better not keep him waiting any longer.”

all you could do was give the doctor a quick hug, hoping to convey all your gratitude you had him for in a tight embrace, before running out of the room. your bare feet slapped against the stone as you climbed up stair after stair, passing by maids and butlers without a word. your hurried gait didn’t slow until you got up to the long hall that led to simon’s room, spotting the guards at the doors, the moment becoming more and more real as you approached them.

the guards just gave you a nod as they grasped the door handles and pulled the doors open. as you made it over the threshold you almost fell to your knees in relief at the sight of simon in his bed. his back was towards you, bare and pale. you noticed a large patch of gauze covering the wound that almost took him away from you. you watched, intently, for a moment, cataloging the way ribs expanded with each breath before finally making it over to his bed.

after days of waiting, at long last you saw his face, smushed against his plush pillows. you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders, like you could finally breathe for the first time in days. you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out, a need to touch, to feel. you graced a finger down his cheek, over one of his scars that he got years ago when he would go out to battle with his men. you gasped as he suddenly snapped his eyes open and a hand was grasped around your wrist.

within a second, recognition washed over his face as he took you in. “oh thank god, it’s finally you.” he whispered earnestly, voice hoarse. he didn’t let go of your wrist, bringing your hand back up to his face, nuzzling himself against it.

when you felt tears against your hand you couldn’t help but warble out a pathetic, “oh, simon.”

“get in here.” he damned, voice wet and thick as he adjusted to make space for you.

it was probably a bad idea to get into bed with a man who was supposed to be recovering from a near fatal stab wound but that wasn’t stopping you from crawling in underneath the covers. there was no opportunity at keeping a respectable distance between you two when his strong arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest. you shamelessly groped his back and molded yourself to his front, nuzzling your face into his throat, wanting to be as close as possible to the man that you thought you lost.

your emotions from the last few days overtake you as you wept out, pitifully, “i thought i lost you.”

he squeezes you tighter in response before he affirms, “i thought i was going to lose you, too.”

your heart clenches, knowing that your relationship was just as important to him as it was to you. you tried to calm your breathing but your mind was flooding with the memories from the days previous, how he was ripped out of your arms after asking for your care. “they took you away from me.”

his hold on your became impossibly tight as he growled, “i’ll kill them all.”

you finally got some sense over yourself at his sudden mood shift. your hands that had been clutching at his strong and broad back reached up past his neck to scritch through his hair, trying to soothe him. “no, no, simon, you just have to relax right now. i need you to rest so you can get better.” you pleaded with him.

his rigid body began to loosen at your words, muscles relaxing around you until you could gently rest your head along his chest.

he took a deep, calming breath before promising, “anything for you, lovie.”

#gator.writing #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley imagine #cod x reader #hope you guys like it!! #i'm a little stumped on what to write for them next so feel free to send me ideas! #king simon