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shxnigxmi · 6 months

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[𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓!𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄] [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

That one scene from El Dorado that’s popular on COD TikTok right now—

c/w: giving ghost the gawk gawk (not detailed or specified), vulgar language, price is a cheeky devil, ghost is actually a tease beneath all that brooding and sadness— idc argue with the wall

🔞 MINORS/FEM!ALIGNED DNI 🔞

—

“Lieutenant!”

You gasped when you heard Price call for Ghost, the very same Ghost who’s covered in kiss marks courtesy of you, red and purple bruising spanning from his jaw to his neck and all the way down his chest and stomach. The very same Ghost who was kiss-drunk and delirious by your very loving and devoted attention. The very same Ghost who’s cock was all the way down your throat.

“Ghost!” Price called again, waltzing deeper into the armory. Fuck, you couldn’t get caught like this! Insubordination and fraternization were the start of a very long list of punishment awaiting you both if Price happened upon you two. I mean sure, you and Ghost had opted for the furthest and darkest back corner behind the wall of tactical vests, but still—

With another quiet gasp of surprise you pulled your mouth off his dick —much to his chagrin— and sat up quickly. He was quick to follow—

“The Captain!” You cried as you roughly pushed him back down to lying on the ground with a hand on his face. You felt only slightly bad about the impactful thud and loud pop in his back.

“Ow!” Ghost winced but sat up again, a cheeky grin on his face and eyes full of mirth that hung behind a cloud of lust within those rich brown irises.

“What’s the Cap gonna think if he finds you like this with me?” You panicked, of course you knew Price wouldn’t be the one to punish you both for this act of fraternization. And he wouldn’t really rat you out either.. maybe you were being a bit over dramatic but he could still dish out a harsh punishment if he felt like it was needed. And he was probably looking for Ghost because Ghost wasn’t supposed to be here with you right now. Especially not doing this— getting a quick blowjob from you in the back of the armory.

You narrowed your eyes as you clocked the arrogant and pleasured look on his stupidly handsome face.

“Lucky Ghost?”

“For the love of.. just, just— JUST—!”

You scrambled to get him into a decent enough state to stand before your Captain, pulling his mask back down, followed by his shirt to cover the marks on his skin, tugging up his boxers and jeans— harshly pulling up the zipper which he cried at when his junk was pinched at the expense of your rush.

When you heard Price getting closer you stood and pulled him up to his feet with a shocking amount of strength. Then, you were brushing his shirt and pants off and pushing him out of the dark corner— just as Price rounded the end of the corridor and spotted him.

“Ah, Simon.. there ya are.”

“Sir.”

Now, Price had known Simon for a long enough amount of time to notice the little things about him. And he was curious about the disheveled nature about him. It was well hidden to the untrained eye, and maybe to those not close enough to Simon to be able to pick out his tells. Like the way his jeans hadn’t been buttoned—

“You were due to the training fields at 1800 on the dot.”

“I apologize, I was looking for a few handhelds to teach those rookies a few things.”

“Hm.”

—Price decided not to comment on it.

Instead, he grinned. Then he was turning on his heels and making his way back the way he came. Simon watched him as he paced back down the corridor, then he subtly tensed when Price turned his head to look at him over his shoulder as he walked.

“Your button’s undone.”

Okay maybe he did want to comment on it and tease the Lieutenant just a little, the Sergeant too if his assumption on who was in Simon’s pants was correct. Simon flushed beneath his mask as he hurriedly rushed to button his pants back up, but his embarrassment was quickly doused and amusement filled it’s place at his Captain’s next words.

“And tell [Y/Name] he was meant to be on inventory with Gaz. And will now be doing it by himself as a consequence.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

—

a/n: ghost is so husband 😮‍💨 just wanna kiss him! hold him tightly and love him forever! ❤️

#callofduty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #captain john price #simon riley x male reader #ghost x male reader #cod x male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader smut

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marquisgray · 2 months

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How mad at me would you guys be if this was the pose I used for a Soap poster?

(This is going to match the Ghost poster I posted earlier btw)

#just a sketch #should this be tagged referenced mcd #lmk pls #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #callofduty #i want to bite him too

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kcmactavish · 3 months

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First post on Tumblr? Hello out there

#neil ellice #soapmactavish #callofduty #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #fanart #soapghost #ghoap

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konigbabe · 1 year

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the taste of scotch

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Tags/Warnings: nsfw; smut; top!price; dom!price; alcohol; manhandling; rough sex; p-in-v sex; oral sex; orgasm delay/denial; breathplay

Summary: John Price enjoys two of his favorite things on Earth...you and Scotch.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"Told ya to lay still, baby," he groans, lips latching on your pulsating neck as he grounds himself into you. Your walls clench, the wetness of your core pooling inside your panties as you wiggle your backside into him.

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you.

His fingertips follow the natural curve of your spine, all his weight nonchalantly resting on your naked thighs as he straddles you. His cold breath on the lower of your back sends shivers right to where you crave him the most.

A breathless moan escapes your parted lips as you feel the liquor hit your skin, soon enough followed by the scraping of John's tongue as he laps at the drops of scotch sliding alongside the curve of your spine, making you arch your back for him.

His name leaves your mouth as he tugs at your hair, making you throw your head back and arch your back even more, your ass pressing into his already hard cock still hidden underneath his underwear.

"John," you exhale, rotating your head towards his, "just fuck me already."

Price's right hand squeezes your love handle, digging into your flesh roughly, leaving red prints afterward. His lips form a wicked smile. He chuckles and sits back straight, reaching for the glass of scotch on the bedside table.

"Look at you," you hear him murmur, mostly for himself as he watches how the full moon is illuminating your figure, "so fuckin' perfect."

He takes a sip, feeling the burn on his tongue. Your body is on fire, awaiting his touch. You crave to feel every inch of him, to trace the curves of his body the same way he's doing it to you.

His hand slides from your hair as he moves back, taking his weight off your legs.

"Turn around," he states firmly. Your body is already ahead of your brain and the next thing you know, his hips ground into your aching crotch as your legs rest on top of his thighs. Legs spread wide, his hand rests next to your head as he looks into your eyes, the glass of scotch still present in his other hand.

His eyes are dark with desire, his breath hot on your face as his lips meet yours. Nothing about the kiss is romantic. It's messy...greedy. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tangling with yours as you taste the alcohol still slightly present in his mouth.

Your legs sneak around his waist in a vigorous attempt to bring him closer to you. John's fingers interlace with yours. For a second, he gives in and thrusts into you, his cock, still covered by the fabric of his underwear, hitting your clit deliberately. His chest rumbles with a satisfied groan as you moan into the kiss.

John's the first to pull away but you don't want him to, following his lips before he's too far from you. You shamelessly continue to dry hump him as his lips trace the front of your neck. He places a sloppy kiss on your collarbone before you feel him spill a little bit of his liquor between your collarbones, sucking the alcohol from your burning body.

The tension continues building in your stomach as you near your first orgasm. Bringing your chest into his, your fingers scrape his naked back. Digging your heels into his thighs, his name leaves your lips like a prayer.

Closing your eyes, you throw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream. Then there's...emptiness. John's heat leaves your body as he pulls away, stopping your actions.

"What the fuck," you look at him.

"Open your mouth," he says firmly, hovering over you. Your brain is still foggy from orgasm deprivation as you keep looking at his smug face.

"You don't want me to repeat myself, baby."

Without much question, you open your mouth. He smiles, the same smile you've seen thousand times, the smile that made you fall in love with this man over and over again, without his own knowledge. His thumb traces your parted lips before he brings his glass over your face, silently signaling you his next move.

Your mouth burns as the rest of his liquor pools inside your lips. Putting the now empty glass on the table, John nods as he watches you waiting for his next command.

"That's a good girl," he whispers as his hand rests on your thigh, "now swallow."

You do as you're told, feeling the warm liquid make its way down your throat.

"Now that deserves a fuckin' reward," he brings his head down to your exposed breasts, kissing your shivering skin before latching on your aching nipple.

"John," you moan, fingers already twisting his hair. He allows you to grind on him again, his hand slowly sliding up your body. His hips thrust to meet your movement as precum leaks through his boxers, meeting the wet spot on your panties.

The roughness of his beard scrapes the delicate skin of your breasts as John switches to give attention to your other nipple. He angles his hips so his cock hits your clit perfectly again. The tension in your stomach is back within seconds.

"Fuck yourself on me," he mumbles against your skin and stops thrusting, making your walls clench. Not holding back anymore, you shamelessly use his body for your own pleasure as he continues to give his undivided attention to your chest.

The room is filled with the scent of sex as your movements speed up.

"John," your interlaced fingers dig into his hand, leaving crescent marks on the top of his hand, "I'm gonna...fuck...I'm-"

Your legs tighten around his waist in anticipation but his torment of your body doesn't stop. Biting down on your nipple, he brings his hand onto your stomach, holding you down.

"Don't you dare think about cumming just yet," he murmurs and pulls away an inch, his lips tracing the curves of your chest, "not done with you yet," he says between the kisses.

The hand on your stomach moves to lay flat against the wet spot on your panties, his palm resting on your painfully swollen clit.

"Please," you beg him, feeling the wetness of his mouth trace the top of your underwear.

"I want to cum, John," you whine shamelessly.

"On my tongue only," he looks up at you the moment you look down. The sight of his face between your legs, lips swollen from all the kissing makes your head spin.

A plea leaves your lips. High on the scent of your readiness for him, John kisses the inside of your thighs before finally taking your already-drenched panties off, leaving you naked and ready for taking.

You feel like you just made it to heaven when his lips latch onto your bud of nerves, sucking roughly. His middle finger collects your wetness before making its way into you. His finger softly scrapes your gummy walls. His beard scrapes your inner thighs and he adds a second, then the third finger.

"God, you’re so fucking wet, baby," he scissors his fingers, opening you up. He curls them inside you, hitting your spot with the precision of a sniper. His name continues to spill from your lips as he works his magic on you, bringing you to your overdue orgasm.

Your thighs close him in, keeping his head between your legs as your walls continue contracting. His fingers are soon replaced by his tongue as he laps at your wetness hungrily.

His eyes take in the sight of you - your back arched gently, head thrown back with a silent scream leaving your throat, eyes shut, fingers aggressively gripping at anything in your close proximity - be it the side of your bed, the sheets, or his hair. He feels like he could easily cum just by the way you look at this very moment.

As you crash from your high, your legs fall onto the bed tiredly. A satisfied sigh escapes your lips. You open your eyes the moment you feel the wet head of his cock rest on your pulsating clit.

He's looking at your face, his eyes studying the perfection lying underneath him.

"Hand and knees," he rasps. You watch your juices glisten on his beard as he speaks, the image already burned inside your brain forever.

"I don't think I can take that," you exhale.

His lips turn into a wicked smile.

"That wasn't a question, baby," he shakes his head. Next thing you know, his hands are on your hips as he easily manhandles you into the position. His knees nudge your legs apart as you brace yourself.

The head of his cock traced your opening before he slams into you, his tight grip on your waist being the only thing holding you in place. It feels like he knocked the air out of your lungs as he continues the brutal pace of slow withdrawing with sharp and hard thrusting back in.

"That's it," he grunts, his hips creating noise as they slap against your ass, "you're taking me so fuckin' prettily."

The amount of pleasure indulging your body keeps rising. Your arms give up in the process, making your face slam right into the pillows at the same time as John slams into you. His balls slap your thighs with each thrust as he slows down, one hand sliding up your back and resting between your shoulder blades.

Burying himself to the brim, you feel the head of his cock press against your walls, filling you up completely. He leans forward, his trusts shallow as he reaches for the bottle of scotch, pouting a little into his glass. You turn your head to watch him pour himself one before bringing the glass to his lips.

Meeting his thrusts halfway, he takes a sip of the liquor while watching his cock getting swallowed by your needy cunt.

"I could spend the rest of my life buried inside you, love," he rumbles, taking another sip as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock.

"C´mere," his hand moves from your shoulder blades to wrap itself around your neck gently as he brings you up. Your back is flush against his chest and you feel his auburn hair. You rest your head back on his shoulder as he slows his thrusts, barely moving. Bringing the glass of scotch to your lips, you swallow when he pours the rest of the glass into your mouth and watches you take it all.

"You're so hot like this."

His lips latch onto yours in a hungry, alcohol-filled kiss as he puts the empty glass down. His hand sneaks to your clit, swirling his fingers around as he picks up the pace again, ready to finish what he started.

You brace yourself against the headboard as John slams into you, his tongue never leaving your mouth. He feels your walls tightening around his cock, desperately searching for that desired high.

He swallows your moans as he continues to build your orgasm, the head of his cock nudging your spot with each thrust. His hand tightens around your throat when you try to pull away.

Soon enough, you're not able to kiss him no more as the pleasure builds even more, only a short string of saliva connecting your lips as you moan and gasp, your brain too worn out to form a single word.

You reach your high the moment his hand leaves your neck to twist your nipple, mouth pressed against your temple as his breathing speeds up. John picks up the pace, fucking you relentlessly through your orgasm as he can feel your walls clenching tightly around his cock.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you come on my cock like that," he says against your skin, sending shivers down your back. You grip the headboard even tighter. Too exhausted to cooperate, he moves his hands to your hips, bringing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

His pace becomes sloppy, indicating his near end. His balls tighten, his grunts growing louder, sometimes turning into moans as he shamelessly uses your body to bring himself to an orgasm. The moment he's buried inside you to the hilt, he stiffens and his grip loosens. Almost a primal grunt leaves his lips that are still pressed against your temple as he fills you up.

"John," you finally manage to say his name as he stays pressed flush against you, his softening cock still deep inside.

"You're so good to me," he kisses your jawline before you turn to face him, connecting your lips. The kiss is slow and sloppy, both of your bodies too tired to do any work.

He slips out of you, making you moan at the sudden emptiness within you. He finally lies down on his back as you place your hand on his chest, fingers playing with his chest hair, his chest rising up and down gently as you watch him reach for the bottle of his scotch and pour himself another glass.

#cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #smut #moni writes

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gold0kapi · 1 year

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"Welcome back, LT”

#ghostsoap #soapghost #callofduty #art #drawing #fanart #version 2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #soapmactavish #simonghostriley

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schizo-bbgs · 4 months

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Ghost in his cute scarf :3

#cod #call of duty #ghost #callofduty #mwiii #mw3 #call of duty ghost #ghost simon riley

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m0chac0ffee · 1 year

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(VERY Domestic) SCENARIOS WITH S. RILEY

Allergies.

"Simonnn....."

...

"Simooonnnn....."

"What?"

Simon walked into your room.

"I can't breathe properly.."

"You congested?"

"Yes..."

"Loser."

"Die slowly, Si."

Simon eventually brought you tea to help soothen your sinuses, tissues, snacks, and medicine to lessen your symptoms.

————————————————————————

I Love You.

"Hey, love?"

"What's up, Si?"

"I love you."

...

"Why are you crying?"

"Just... really happy. I love you too. So much."

————————————————————————

Music Taste.

"The hell is this shit?"

"My playlist, obviously."

"It's ass."

"Oh yeah? Think your music is better?"

"Absolutely."

"Whatever."

You smiled softly as you stared at your boyfriend who, despite his complaints, kept his connected earbud in his ear.

————————————————————————

Snoring.

"You snore."

"You're lying."

"Am not."

"Proof or it's not true."

"Alright, just wait til tonight then."

Simon ended up falling asleep before you and you indeed caught a recording of him snoring loudly.

————————————————————————

Ouch.

"OW! FUCK!"

Simon came rushing into your bedroom.

"Love? What happened?"

You were gripping your foot as you sat on the ground.

"Stubbed my toe."

...

"Screamed bloody murder just because you hit your toe."

"It hurt!"

"Didn't require a banshee screech though."

You flipped him off as he chuckled and bent down to kiss your forehead.

————————————————————————

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naconaco · 6 months

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#AleRudy #CoD #CallofDuty #AlejandroVargas #RodolfoParra #ValeriaGarza

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eggnogs-art · 5 months

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Ok yeah so i got too impatient because uhhh yk. They're them. So here's this older drawing i made of these 2 homosexuals that i was gonna post tmr. They're so gay lol (they consume my every waking thought i cant cOPE)

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mech4n15m · 6 months

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0_0

#makarov #vladimir makarov #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty fanart #modern warfare #callofduty

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shxnigxmi · 7 months

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❤︎︎ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 ❤︎︎ [ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

ఌ synopsis: you eagerly await the return of your husband, and he can’t wait to be in your arms once again

ఌ content warnings: foul language, anxiety, domestic fluff, ghost is literally whipped—

ఌ author’s note: why is physical affection so hard? like someone hold me in their arms and keep me safe but like do it without actually touching me cause i fucking hate that fucking shit /:(

—

Beat down and bone-tired. Ghost was exhausted.

Simon was exhausted. And he let out a tired huff as he slid the key into the lock of his front door before he twisted it with a click. Repeated the same process with the handle before he was twisting it and trudging inside, dropping his heavy duffel on the ground as he slid out of his sneakers. Black Nikes he traded in for his combat boots back at base.

“Lovey,” he called out into the apartment as he kicked his shoes off. When he didn’t get an answer his immediate response was to tighten up with panic. Muscles taut against the profound ache of weariness that weighed down heavily on his bones.

At least he would have, but there was no need for such a reaction. Because he could see the door to your art room slightly ajar, the soft golden light coming from the lamp you kept on the desk in the corner bathing the hallway in it’s pale glow. And he could hear you humming, your voice soft as angels and melodic as a siren bewitching him to come closer as your taut chords strung the sound together beautifully. He smiled.

Inhaling a breath that felt like it had cleansed his lungs is when he noticed the scent of pumpkin spice, and he tilted his head at the small glow in the corner of the living room. A candle, the flame small as the scented candle was no more than three inches tall. The rightfully themed orange wax sat in a small glass container. Tiny and withheld there on the table by the bookcase.

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the small flickering before, or why the scent had evaded him until just now. Perhaps he really was tired. Or maybe it was because he heard you, and the fact that he was aware you were present in this home you shared with him made him feel more at peace. Softer and less tightly wound, less of Ghost and more of Simon the longer he stood there before the shut and locked front door.

Yes, the candle added it’s aroma to the homely vibe his apartment was bathed in. But it was you that made it feel truly like home, it was you that made it feel safe and comfortable. Here with you he could be Simon, he could be human.. just a man yearning for love and affection. Wanting to be taken care of and held tenderly.

Out there in the real world, the world that’s full of vile and hateful shadows that prowl in the darkness waiting for an innocent victim is where he needed to be Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. Cold, hard, calculated and cruel.

Here with you… he could just be Simon. Your loving and devoted husband.

So he smiled minutely, a gentle thing tugging the corners of his lips up minutely to put a soft look on his face. Happy. He paced to the art room, the first door on the left at the mouth of the hallway, before he peered inside through the wide gape you had left the door with.

And the warmth in his chest bubbled at the sight of you, sat in that stool with one leg tucked up and laid down on the flat of the stool. Your other leg bent at the knee as you used it to rest your elbow so your paintbrush strokes could be more fine. Simon smiled at the way you looked so domestic, a large shirt —no doubt one of his— draping your figure. Large sweatpants that bunched up around your ankles and have been rolled at the waistline. And a pair of crew socks. Your hair was pushed out of your face with an elastic headband. And it was then in that moment when he had brought his eyes back up to your face that he noticed the headphones.

He was perfectly happy just watching you as you worked in your element, the way you guided the paintbrush across the canvas was mesmerizing. Perfect strokes as you moved your hand in an arch to curve the colorful line you’d just created.

It wasn’t until you were painting the left side of the canvas did you notice the figure out of the corner of your eye. You felt a brief sense of electrified panic and fear of an intruder as you quickly flicked your head to the doorway— and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was just Simon.

Humming you went back to it, switching out the wide brush for a fine point one and using the fibers to scoop up a dollop of green before.. wait—

You froze, then looked back to the doorway. And sure enough he was still stood there, arms folded across his chest and leaning against the doorframe with a playful glint in his eye and smug smile on his lips. Bare to you at the expense of his mask rolled up to the bridge of his nose. Simon!

“Simon!” You squealed, clambering off the stool and setting the paint pallet there alongside your headphones before you were spinning and leaping into your husband’s strong and loving arms.

He chuckled deeply at your enthusiasm, then reached down to grab your thighs before he was hoisting you up to encourage you to wrap your legs around his wide waist. And you did so with little more prompting.

“I missed you doll,” he murmured into your hair and you laughed wetly as you snuggled your face closer into his neck. Warm and bare to you, vulnerable to loving pecks as you welcomed your hubby home.

“I missed you too Si. So much.” You pulled back from his embrace of just enough to cup his face and pull his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, and you gently held his face as he pressed his lips firmly back against yours.

No matter how many times you and he shared saliva it felt like the first kiss every single time. That first kiss that you can recall happening on your porch, the porch just out the front door he had just come through.

It was the first date, after you two had met in a bar downtown you’d hit it off rather quick. And he offered a nice and quiet walk alongside the large pond in the city’s square. The pond that had a beautiful fountain in the middle, and as you walked with him slowly but surely you had gotten to know a bit more about him.

What with his black balaclava and the fierce and brooding aura about him, it had been a shock he’d asked you to join him outside. He had seemed prickly and more of lone wolf type of guy when you’d seen him across the bar all those nights ago. And you were surprised when you’d both ended up at the bar together.

He wasn’t. Because he had noticed you too, and he had been trying to scrounge up some courage to approach you. Eventually, his teammates had pushed him to stand and go order another drink when they saw that you had returned to the bar.

And the rest has all led up today, to that electrified kiss. A kiss that you felt all the way in your toes, like fireworks erupting in your chest and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. That’s the affect Simon had on you, the “so helplessly and utterly in love” affect that made you feel warm and happy anywhere near him. He was perfect.

And you’re so glad he’d put a ring on your finger, so glad you had bought a ring of your own to ask him. And so glad to have been happily married to him for three years already. Because Simon was comfort and Simon was home.. and you loved and adored him more than anything.

“What’re ya workin’ on?” He questioned as he set you back on your feet, pressing one final kiss to your lips before you were turning away from him to face the canvas. The project that was almost finished.

“Just some big piece for a company in New York. Payed a shitload for it too,” you explained as you moved to the desk in the room. Messy with files upon files stacked on top of each others, papers strewn about and the mahogany wood littered with pieces of garbage. Candies, discarded coffee cups, crushed energy drink cans.. it was a disaster.

But you found the paycheck right where you had left it, laid atop the manilla folder in the corner. You plucked it from it’s perch before moving back to Simon and handing it to him. His eyes widened at the number of zeroes behind the set of double digits at the beginning.

“Bloody hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of frazzled because they paid a lot.. and I know they’ll like it I’m just not sure I’ll be able to finish the whole thing in time.” You spoke, suddenly ready to burst like a water spout and rant to him. You knew that he would listen intently and you knew he would do whatever he could to fix the problem or offer any advice he thought would be helpful. But you were tired, you’d been staring at the damn canvas all day. And whilst you had a cohesive idea in mind the client had said to make it abstract. So you’d just been letting your brush guide your hand and went to your heart’s content.

But now? Right now all the colors were blurring together, and not in the way an abstract is supposed to. Not in the way you’d seen it in your head. And it was making you frustrated, anxiety aligning unwell with your unease and anger made everything so much worse.

When you had finally found somewhat of a groove again is when Simon had come home. But even still.. it didn’t quite feel right. You dreaded the thought of maybe having to start a new one tomorrow, but you didn’t want to give your client something you weren’t proud of. Especially since they’d paid so much and especially since they expected so much from you since your profoundly successful gallery last month.

So when you had seen Simon all worries had flown right out the window, and the ire wound tightly in your chest had dissipated. He’d worked out the unruly twitch in your brow with his mere presence alone and you melted into his hold when you had squealed and jumped him.

But now that you had once again found the canvas as your main point of attention— the feelings returned. And you grimaced angrily at it. As if your twisted scowl would somehow fix the painting and your problem.

Simon recognized the look in your eye, and he knew you would continue to glare at your painting until you either got new inspiration or burnt yourself out trying to create something that was satisfying to your expectations. So he turned you to face him and cupped your cheeks.

“Let’s get to bed yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a fresher perspective on this tomorrow.” He gently urged, and you sighed softly as you reached your hands up to hold his wrists. You nodded your agreement.

And he took your hand in his to guide you into the shared bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, your nightly routine began. And he helped you with your skincare routine as you gently pulled off his mask and wiped clean the black eye grease that painted his face. Once clean with a cleansing wipe you began his skincare routine, built and patented by you.

And he closed his eyes and exhaled softly at the way your hands and fingers felt on his face. The intimate domestic feeling behind the action made his heart warm and his stomach flutter. You had made him a skincare routine, loved him enough to care about what he’s putting on his face. And it felt amazing to be sharing a nightly routine with you again.

Once you both rinsed your faces clean and patted them dry, you brushed your teeth before waltzing back into the bedroom to the closet on the other side. And you both changed into cleaner clothes. A pair of boxer briefs and a clean shirt from Simon’s side of the closet for you. He opted to go shirtless and donned sweatpants that hung low and accentuated his abs and v-line. You couldn’t help but stare and Simon grinned as he caught you looking at him from where you lay on the bed.

“See something you like?”

“Oh you know I like you very much Honey.”

He chuckled quiet in his chest before he was turning out the bathroom light and joining you on the bed, wrapping a strong arm around your middle and pulling you into his chest. Your back flush against it, and you relished in the warmth that radiated off of him.

He pulled the sheets and duvet up to cover you both, kissed your temple before trailing his lips down to your cheek, your jaw and eventually your throat. Where he whispered his goodnight into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You had uttered yours back to him when you turned your head to catch his lips with yours one more time before you faced forward again and settled in to sleep through the passing night.

Missed constellations and the pale glow the moonlight cast upon the complexes that made up your neighborhood. All to be in the safe and protective arms of your beloved husband.

Simon Riley. Who you loved and adored more than anything in this world.

—

ఌ author’s note: i just like to imagine that when you are in the arms of your comfort character all your fears, all your worries and your aches and your pains just vanish.. as if being in their arms makes everything okay… makes you safe and protected… makes you loved ❤︎︎

#callofduty #codmw2 #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod x male reader #ghost x male reader #call of duty x male reader #simon riley x male reader #x male reader #male reader imagine #but in reality can big daddy price just hug me? please? me thinks his hugs are magical #they can cure anything and heal anyone #the limp will run and the blind shall see #didn’t mean to get all heavy on y’all in the outro author’s note lol

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league-of-sam · 1 month

Text

Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART ONE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

2 / 3 / 4 / 5

You'd been the new kid on the block, over and over again.

Late to training, late into the 141, and now, late into Task Force KorTac with a very special, and very specific mission.

A mission that was built for you.

A mission that required the utmost professionalism.

A mission that required somehow pulling a 6’10” brick shithouse out of his own head and into a team - but you didn’t know that, yet.

Oh, and fuck, did you protest it. Over and over and over again. It had taken you months to settle with the 141 boys, and now you were being shipped off, away from your family.

“You’re really good at that, uh, the empathy shit.” Price had said, placing a warming hand on your shoulder.

“I’m a soldier, Price. And you know how much I struggle around new people.” You spoke, the latter half of the sentence said in a hushed tone.

“Yes, but you’re good at, ya know, feeling." He replied, fingers lifted to place air quotes around the word, "You got Ghost to come out of his shell!”

At that moment, your lieutenant entered the room, making his way over at the mention of his callsign.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so send him! Lord knows he needs the practise.”

“Watch ya mouth, little one.” Ghost said, stepping next to you.

“Just because you’re a foot taller than me does not mean you get to bully me for it, Simon.”

Despite what people thought about the giant, skull-mask-wearing man, he was soft and caring; the relationship you had built together was that of siblings, and he had your back more than any ordinary brother would.

Ghost’s eyes were dark under his mask, but you knew he was smirking, “Not my fault you’re a short arse.”

“Yet I’m still a better sniper than you.”

“No, you bloody well aren’t-”

“Children! Please…” Price interrupted the sibling-like bickering; fingers pinched on the bridge of his nose. “If we could focus on the task at hand?”

Ghost poked your side, mumbling, “Yeah, (Y/L/N), focus on your task.”

“Go have Soap suck your dick some more, sounds like you need to relax.” You mumbled back.

Your retort had Ghost choking, the sharp intake of air he made as his head whipped to look at you causing him to cough relentlessly. Price shook his head, waving him off to sort himself out.

It wasn’t exactly a secret within the team that there was something a little less savoury going on with your lieutenant and Sergeant MacTavish, especially when the latter would constantly confide in you about his crush.

Especially, after what had happened with Hassan and the missiles.

But, thanks to your meddling, you had been able to get Ghost to open up, and it seemed like the two were much happier.

Not that you’d dare make a comment about it in front of anyone but Price and Ghost himself.

You valued your life, thank you very much.

And as much as Ghost loved you like a sister; he would absolutely kill you.

As Ghost walked away, you shot him the sweetest smile you could muster, resulting in him throwing you the finger.

“Look, you’re the only one I think can get through to him, kid. The task force needs you.” Price continued.

“I applied to be here, sir. I worked damn hard to make it onto the 141.”

He sat you down, taking your hands in his, “This isn’t permanent. I promise, we’ll be here waiting when ya get back, because I want to work with this guy. He’s bloody good, so I need you to make sure he can play well with others."

You sighed heavily, the weight of responsibility and leaving your family crushing your shoulders, "And you are my best sniper., Karma.”

Price had whispered that last part, for your ears only, a smirk across his bearded lips. You smiled widely, a giggle falling from your mouth.

It felt good to get that recognition from your superior.

He wasn’t wrong; the reason you made it onto the 141 in the first place was your incredible skill as a marksman…well, markswoman. You’d earned the call sign Karma from Soap, who watched you in a training drill he ran.

You’d been perched up high, completely hidden, and any enemy that your team missed in combat, you cleaned up, never missing a shot. Like the saying goes, if you can’t get ‘em, karma will.

It was also suitable for those who underestimated you. Every person you’d gone up against in hand-to-hand training doubted your abilities due to your smaller frame, but fuck, did you prove them wrong every time.

Broken noses here.

Fractured limbs there.

You were Karma, and no one messed with you.

“So, think you can do this for me?” Price said.

“Affirmative, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

With that, you walked, albeit with a little sadness, back to your quarters, packing a duffle of your things. Price had said you’d only be away for a couple of months tops, depending on how the mission went.

At the car, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and the rest of the 141 were there to say goodbye, all of them giving you a squeeze as they wrapped you in their arms.

“You be good, alright?” Ghost had whispered in your ear, “See you when ya come home.”

“It almost sounds like you’re gonna miss me, Lt.” You quipped, and he rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you’d like to believe that.”

“He’ll miss ye, bonnie.” Soap cut in, lifting you off the ground, “As will I. Don’t forget me in the excitement of the big bad KorTac boys, will ya?”

“I could never, Soap. You’re my number one!”

With one final wave and various counts of love you’s, you were stuffed into the car with Price and Laswell, the two of them escorting you personally.

Your heart hung low as your team got smaller and smaller behind you, but you were honoured to have been sought out by another team.

KorTac.

Didn’t quite have the same ring to it as 141, but it’d do.

The journey was short from the training camp in London, as you were dropped off at Heathrow, where a private chopper awaited you. From there, you were shipped off to a covert facility in the mountains of Hungary.

The scenery was beautiful, but your nerves bubbled up inside you.

With a silent nudge from the pilot, you were shoved out of the chopper, greeted by several members of your new team.

“Sergeant (Y/L/N), yes?” the man said, a heavy Hungarian accent lacing his words.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me. Sergeant (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You stuck your hand out, “But you can call me Karma, whatever suits.”

“Fender.” the man said, shaking your hand, “I run things here at KorTac. This is my second in command, Roze.”

A woman stepped forward from behind him, also taking your hand in hers, “We’re honoured to have you here, Karma. Heard a lot about you.”

“Well, I’m honoured that you guys wanted me.”

The pleasantries continued until you were being guided to their facilities, being allowed to drop off your bags before rushing to the tactical room, where the rest of the team was waiting for your arrival.

You were introduced swiftly, barely remembering anyone’s names before you were guided once again to another place, ending up in Fender’s office. He offered you a seat, sitting opposite at his desk.

“So, what exactly did Captain Price tell you of your purpose here?”

“Not a lot, really. He mentioned that I was needed because you have a soldier here that needs…help? And that there was a mission coming that required my particular skill.”

“Ahh, yes. That would be Kӧnig…” he sighed, pulling out a file and dropping it in front of you.

You opened the file, to find a picture of a man, a sniper hood that you recognised adorning his face. Scanning the information, you found that he was Austrian, joining the task force here through the KSK, basically being used as a front man for the teams on-ground.

“Kӧnig has…issues. He came here wanting to be a sniper, but, as you’ll see when you meet him, his physical attributes do not allow it. He didn’t take that well, but he excels as part of the contact team.”

“So, what exactly is the problem?”

Fender sighed, leaning forward in his chair, “He seems to have some problems with anxiety. I was informed that you used to suffer with such issues but were able to overcome them.”

You scoffed a little, “So, I’m here to be a glorified babysitter?”

You felt bad for this Kӧnig.

You couldn’t imagine wanting nothing more than to be a sniper and then have it taken away from you because of your physicality.

That would fucking suck.

“We just need someone to calm him, teach him control. A lot of the other team members are so scared of him they can barely stand being in the same room.”

“Arseholes…” you whispered under your breath, “That’s hardly fair, sir. By the looks of things, he is an essential member of this team.”

“That maybe so, but I can’t have my soldiers acting that way off the field. Unfortunately, if you cannot help him, he will no longer be welcome on any task force.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

How fucking unfair.

Before you could say anything, the office door opened. You stood to greet Roze but gasped slightly at the giant shadow behind her.

Stood in front of you, was a complete mountain of a man.

He had to duck down considerably to make it through the doorframe. Every single inch of him was huge. Ghost used to make you feel intimidated and tiny, but this…this was fucking ridiculous. Kӧnig had to have been at least 6’10”, and the size of his muscles would put both Ghost and Soap to shame.

Truly, this was a big, big man.

Oh, you thought, the sniper hood stayed on?

“Ah, Kӧnig, there you are. Thank you, Roze, you may go.”

“Sir.” She nodded, smiling to you before leaving the room and shutting it behind her.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Kӧnig spoke, barely sparing you a glance as he addressed his superior. A thick accent tainted his English, but he was well-spoken.

Fender stood, moving around the desk to the two of you, “Yes. This is Karma, she’s the new addition to the team, and will be your new…partner, as such.”

“Uh, p-partner, sir?”

Fender nodded.

“Hi.” You spoke, a soft smile on your features as you stuck out your hand for him to shake. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you can call me (Y/N/N), or Karma, whatever you like really.”

Your hands shook from nervousness as you rambled on.

New people always made you anxious, but this…this was intense.

Was it the accent?

The sheer size of him?

You couldn’t tell if you were intimidated, anxious, or frankly, maybe even a little turned on.

“Kӧnig.” He grunted but refused to meet your hand.

It hung in the air for an embarrassing amount of time, causing you to clear your throat as you lowered it, heat rising to your cheeks.

Yeah, this guy’s people skills were shite.

“Uh, right. Pleasure to meet you.” You finally said in an effort to shake off the awkwardness.

With that, Fender led the two of you back out, and towards the training centre. As you passed various soldiers, many of them looked to you, whispering.

By now, stares and such were just water off a duck’s back for you. Being part of the infamous 141 always brought a lot of unwanted attention. But that didn’t mean it didn’t make you uncomfortable, nonetheless.

Kӧnig, on the other hand, walked slightly behind you and Fender, his eyes not leaving the back of your body. He was used to the stares and whispers, the team never failing to make him feel like a freak of nature on the daily.

But he didn’t care at this moment.

He was fascinated by you.

The bright pink slivers of colour that peaked out from beneath the rest of your hair intrigued him; he was sure that went against regulation. You were also so sweet and tiny, the sniper rifle strapped to your back was almost as big as you were.

So, you were a sniper.

Why the fuck would Fender pair him with a sniper? Like he didn’t get mocked enough!

And now here you were, walking around with your head held high, like you fucking owned the place.

His own personal fucking babysitter.

The more he looked at you, the more his heart filled with rage, gloved fists balling at his sides.

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