#simon x johnny x reader

[milf-murdock]

Unsteady (Simon x Johnny x Reader)

Request: Simon and Johnny taking care of F!Reader

Summary: Simon and Johnny take care of you after you almost pass out at the pub.

TW: heavily implied disordered eating, almost passing out, mental health concerns, medication mentions (nothing specific but could be read as ADHD medication side effects).

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I'm choosing not to publish the ask because I think there are some triggering words that I won't be able to hide under a "read more" line, but I hope that you enjoy this and find some comfort in it.

As someone who has also struggled with EDs in the past, please, please, please do not be afraid to ask for help. There is nothing glamorous about eating disorders. They absolutely need to be taken seriously.

Instead of going the full ED route with this one shot, I took it down a slightly softer path and based it off of my experience with ADHD and how it has led to me accidentally missing meals.

The din of the pub faded into the background as you sat in the corner booth of your favorite pub. You were pressed up against Simon’s bulky frame, one of his strong arms wrapped around your body, keeping you tucked in close. Johnny sat across the booth, taking in his favorite view: you wrapped up in Simon—his two loves, his whole world sat right across the table from him. 

Your empty glass clinked against the others as your set it on the table. “Looks like we’re ready for another round,” you said, smiling up at Johnny. 

“Mm, that it does,” Johnny smiled back at you, and you felt like you could absolutely drown in those ocean eyes. 

“You tryna get us drunk or something, love?” Simon teased, lips pressing against your collarbone. 

“Something like that,” you laughed, turning your head meet his lips for a quick kiss. “Here, I’ll go, order them” you reasoned, being on the outside of the seat and closest to the bar. “Be right back.” You pushed yourself from the booth to your feet, and instantly the entire room started spinning.  Damn, you thought to yourself. That beer is hitting fast. You went to take one tentative step, and then the room started to tilt, the floor coming up at you fast. 

Johnny was out of his seat in an instant, having picked up immediately something was wrong from the moment you stood up. His two large hands reached out to steady you, catching you in his arms. “Easy now,” he grunted,  bracing you both. “I’ve got ye.” He gently lowered you back into the booth, letting your weak form lean up against Simon. Simon’s hands instantly held you against him, supporting you. At the edge of the booth, Johnny got down on one knee so he could be eye level with you. 

“Look at me, hen,” he coaxed. “What’re you feeling?” Johnny grabbed one of the ice waters from the table and gingerly helped bring it to your lips. 

You blinked, trying to get your bearings. The room finally stopped spinning. “M’fine,” you mumble before taking a sip of the water Johnny offered you. The icy cold liquid helped clear your mind. “Just got a bit dizzy.”

Johnny and Simon exchanged knowing glances. 

“What’ve ye had to eat today, lass?” Johnny’s voice was gentle, prodding, but his eyes were a dead giveaway to the concern and hurt he was feeling, already knowing the answer. 

“Umm, I’m not really sure,” you stepped around the question, your voice hesitant. “I think I had a banana this morning?” 

Simon let out a resigned sigh. “I’m assuming that would be half of a banana,” he corrected. “Considering I found the remaining half still in the peel on top of the dresser.”   

You eyelids fluttered shut, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh.” You let out. “Yeah, I went in there to grab one of your jumpers and I must have forgotten it.” 

It happened all the time, you getting distracted mid task. It had gotten even worse since one of the side effects of your medication was a suppressed appetite. You never did have quite a good relationship with food to begin with though. 

“And what about lunch?” Johnny continued his prodding. 

You bit your bottom lip, a nervous habit of yours. Wincing, you reply with a mumbled “forgot.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as shame flooded through you. 

At this, both men let out a sigh, completely in synch when it comes to their concern for you. 

“Love, we’ve been over this,” Simon started before being cut off. 

“M’sorry.” Despite your best efforts, a couple tears started to slide down your face. 

Johnny pulls you into his arms. “S’okay, Bonnie,” he soothed, running a hand up and down your back. 

“S’not okay, Johnny,” Simon snapped from the other side of you. “She needs to be eating.” 

Johnny shot Simon a glare. “I know that, Si.” He took a deep breath before pressing a kiss to your temple, your head buried against his chest. “He’s right though, bonnie. Ye need to be eating.” 

His hand slid up to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. 

“I know,” you whined, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. 

Simon scooted closer across the booth, a strong hand coming to rest against your back. 

“We just need to know you’re taken care of, love,” Simon began to rub his hand in a soothing circle. “Specially knowing we can’t always be here to take care of you ourselves.” 

“I know,” you sighed, feeling yourself shutting down. 

Simon and Johnny exchange another glance, Simon giving a short nod of approval signaling to back off for now. 

“Just promise us you’ll try,” Johnny pleaded. “For us. Please?”

You nod, sniffling. 

“I promise,” you sighed softly. “I’ll try harder.”

Johnny gave you a crooked smile, a favorite of yours. “Atta girl.” 

Simon pressed a kiss to the back of your head. “Now let’s go get some dinner, love. How’s that sound?” 

“It sounds…” you trailed off.  “Well, I don’t really feel that well.” 

Simon nodded his head knowingly. “Well that’s cause you’ve hardly eaten today.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Probably.” 

“Something easy then,” Johnny stated matter of factly. “Perfect weather for soup. Think you can manage that, dove?” 

You gave a small nod and let Johnny transfer you over to Simon’s strong arms. 

“Aye, good lass,” he gave you a quick peck. “Si, get our girl home and I’l go pick it up.” 

“Affirmative,” Simon agreed, giving your hip a quick tap to encourage you to try to get on your feet again. 

Johnny stood up and offered you a hand to help you up, Simon’s hands never leaving your hips until they were both certain you weren’t in danger of passing out on them.  

“I’ll see you both at home,” Johnny quipped, giving both you and Simon a quick kiss on the cheek before going to pay the tab. 

Simon helped you shrug into your coat and the two of you made your way out to the brisk Manchester air. 

An hour later, empty takeaway containers littered the coffee table in the living room as you laid on the couch with your loves. You were pressed up against Simon, leaning up against him, tucked under his arm. Your legs were sprawled out across Johnny’s lap, his calloused hands giving you the most delightful foot massage. 

“Y’know we love you, right?” Johnny’s voice broke the silence that had settled over the three of you. 

“I know,” your voice was low. 

“We just worry about you, love,” Simon urged, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. 

“I promise I’ll try to be better.” You sighed softly. “I love you both so much.” 

“We love you too, lass.” Johnny leaned forward to give you a kiss. 

“So much,” Simon finished, pressing another kiss to your exposed neck. 

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #john soap mctavish x reader #simon x johnny x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #simon Riley x Johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish x reader #TW ed #tw ed descussion #soap x reader #ghoap x you

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 & 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: swearing, nsfw included (no one under 18 please).

a/n: ghoap is my favourite ship but I always want to be involved so this is fanservice and ... self insert. Anyway, enjoy!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

God there is so much I want to say!!! I want to read more ghoap x reader. It's so funnnnn. Anyway, please enjoy - if you have any suggestions or prompts I would be more than happy to answer them <3

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You were in a relationship with Johnny long before Simon entered the picture

・Johnny had made you absolutely swoon for months, but you were too hesitant to do anything about it. Your insecurities held you back.

・How could someone as gorgeous as this man, nay, god, even look your way.

・But he was looking your way, and crushing so bad that you were all he could think about.

・You found a lot of solace in each other, swapping phone numbers and texting constantly. Johnny's first message was: "heyy bonnie, how'd ye day go? ❤️"

・It took you nearly an hour to reply because all your brain could do was short circuit

・But over the years you became friends, then lovers, moving in together. All while he was still going on missions.

・He took you to meet his family after 3 months of proper dating, and he was so proud to show you off.

"Aye this is she!," he said (yelled) presenting you to his large family. (They didn't believe you existed).

・Your relationship with Johnny has always been based on honesty and humour. You know you can rely on him for anything, even if he can be a bit fookin' cheeky.

・Johnny had told you about his teammates (once he realised you were the person for him).

・And you quickly noticed the way he would speak different about his Lieutenant. Simon Riley.

・A crush...

・You had no issue with it. Crushes were normal, and you knew Johnny was faithful. You also knew Johnny was much to apprehensive to do anything with Simon.

・But one day, when you were picking Johnny up on the tarmac, after a grueling 3 months away. Simon watched as you ran into Johnny's arms. Kept watching as he spun you around, buring his face in your neck.

"Johnny..." you whimpered, pressing soft kisses all over his face.

"Aye, it's me bonnie. Couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

・Tears were in both of your eyes and Simon had to close his own. Swallowing a lump down his throat.

・After you and Johnny had left, Simon stayed in his car for upto 2 hours. Staring out the frontshield window. Confused as fuck.

・How could he fall in love with a person he'd never spoken to? In his deeper, most inner self, he knew he loved Johnny too.

・And when he arrived 'home,' he shucked off his clothes and stayed in the shower. Sitting, letting the water mix with his tears. He would give anything. Anything, to be with you both. But he knew that was ridiculous.

・Surprise. It wasn't ridiculous.

・When you got home, instantly you brought up Johnny's superior.

"Eh, wha' about him, bonnie?" Johnny asked suspiciously, opening the fridge door.

"He likes you."

All you got in response was an eye roll.

"Johnny," there was something in your voice which made him look at you.

"As a ... teammate. As a friend, aye. Yes. Not as anything more."

"I like him too," you cooed. Walking over to the blue-eyed Scotsman.

・He smirked, grabbed your waist and pulled you close, "don't go pryin'."

・You went prying.

・But didn't have to go too far, because Simon was never too far away.

・You bumped into him many times, both with and without Johnny.

・It all came to a head, when your car stopped working and you needed a ride home.

・Simon was more than happy to help.

・Johnny nearly fainted when he opened the door. His partner and his teammate stood in the doorway, a cheeky - almost sheepish smile on yours.

・No matter how hard Simon tried to leave, you made him stay ... and stay he did. You made his tea perfect on the first try.

・Always a dog pile when it's time to go to bed. Arms and legs are splayed over whoever. You might start in the middle but by the morning you're completely on top of Simon while Johnny uses your bum as a pillow

・It took 6 months for Simon to move in. And he brought Riley with him as well. Your cats weren't too happy about that ...

・It's a silent agreement that no one uses the boys' call signs. It's always their real names or pet names.

・Simon and Johnny like to keep their work away from their home life as much as possible.

・On deployment, Johnny and Simon have both agreed that home with you is their solace. You are their person.

・And speaking of being on the same task force; you made Johnny and Simon sit down (with their favourite beverages) to talk it out. Sometimes they wanted you there, other times you knew they needed to be alone.

・But encouraging communication made both men a lot less scared to express their feelings. Even if you could be quite ... aggressive.

"Look, Johnny...it's uh, hard to say... but-"

"No, no, I ken what ye mean-"

"Ah! Let him say it Johnny!" You yelled from another room.

Johnny sighed, blushed and sat straighter in his chair.

"Uh. Yeah well," Simon started to sweat. This was worse than an interrogation.

But before Simon could finish, Johnny just bellowed out in a very gruff Scottish accent, "I love ye Simon Riley!"

And Simon never thought he would feel as elated as he did in that moment.

Until you rounded the corner, sat on Johnny's lap and blushed. "We, love you Simon Riley."

・And you pushed a black box over to him.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Would Die For One Other

You (And Johnny) Fell First, But Simon Fell Harder

"Hey can I have a…" (You) x "Yes. Whatever it is. Yes." (Johnny)

"You wear the pants in this relationship" (You) x "oh I wish, I cannot control you at all" (Simon)

The Moon (Simon) and His Star (Johnny)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Soulmates Sometimes Come In Threes

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

The Tour by James Newton Howard

Skyfall by the Midnite String Quartet

Sex on Fire by Kings of Leon

(yes there are multiple songs because this relationship deserves it)

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Might be a bit of a shock, but Johnny loves to dominate Simon. Especially when they're deployed.

・You gave them the green light to be intimate whenever they wanted, especially when on deploment. But both Simon and Johnny agreed it wasn't the same without you. (Actually makes them feel sad and guilty.)

・Trying new things in the bedroom is something that you and Johnny really enjoy. Simon is more of a calmer, more sensual lover. He doesn't like anything too hardcore.

・He wants to make love, not fuck goddamit!

・You know how couples love going to the farmer's markets on the weekend? Yeah well you and Johnny love going to sex shops.

・Dildos, vibrators, strap ons, nipple clamps, different types of lube...

・Both Johnny and Simon like to be pegged.

・And Simon likes eating ass

・Simon isn't very comfortable with public sex, so you never push him to. But Johnny is all for it.

・You and Johnny love riling Simon up. His stoic demeanour almost triggers you two to make him blush.

・No one can remember how this started, but when both men are at home and it's night ... you start a stripping party. But whatever song it lands on; you HAVE to strip/dance/perform to it.

・It took a while for Simon to even participate, but once he saw how open Johnny and you were, he couldn't resist.

・The first time he joined, the song that he had to strip to was, "Say My Name" by Destiny's Child

・He wasn't so enthusiastic but with a bit of encouragement, he blew your minds'.

・Simon ended it by throwing Johnny and yourself over his shoulders and marching you up to the bedroom. Both you and Johnny laughing your assess off, and pinching Simon's backside.

#witchthewriter #headcanons #simon riley #johnny mactavish #simon x you x soap #simon x johnny x reader #reader insert #witch the writer's headcanons #cod #plot trope #relationship tropes #relationship headcanons #relationship #ghost x soap #ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #cod soap #moodboard #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 #john mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soapghost #soap x ghost

[dangerkittenclaws]

little number

server 141 valentine’s day exchange (thank you to @bunnyreaper for putting it all together)

my valentine is @angelofacidx <3

I had a lot of fun writing this as I obviously got carried away as I usually do! So enjoy and I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day lovely :)

simon x johnny x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: MDNI +18, poly smut

“Something special is waiting for you!”

You hit send to the group chat between your two boyfriends and yourself. It's a picture of you posing in front of your full-length mirror wearing your new lingerie.

You got the set just for Valentine’s Day, a baby pink mesh bra and matching panties both with tiny white hearts dotted all over.

Simon and Johnny have been on this mission for the last two months and with some contact here and there, it’s never enough. They had been told they wouldn’t be home for another week and would be missing one of your favorite holidays.

“Goddamn”

“We need more pictures than that, lass”

You attach three more pictures of different poses. A close up of your bra with your nipples peeking through just behind the material. Another of you from the side, kneeling and leaning back on one hand with your back arched. And the last one from behind, showing off your round, plump ass with your panties off, hanging from your fingers on the other hand.

“My hands are going to ruin that little number and then your pussy if you keep playing like that.”

“Not if I get to her first.”

You love being a tease while they are away. Something about them only having each other and pictures and videos of you makes it more exciting. By the end of each mission, they practically act like dogs and are at your beck and call the moment they get through the door.

The night of the 13th rolls around and you get ready for bed. Once you’ve showered, shaved and gone through your round of care products, you put on a pair of soft pajama shorts and pick out one of Johnny’s old t-shirts. It still smells like him. You pull back the covers on the bed and turn on your favorite Disney movie to wind down. You don’t even remember shutting your eyes before you hear your alarm ringing too early in the morning. Little did you know though, they were currently walking across the tarmac with bags in hand to get on a flight back to you.

“Today won't be quite the same without you both”

“Happy Valentine’s Day <3” you text to the chat.

You don’t get a response back, but that’s to be expected sometimes. They are working, after all.

You wash up and dress for the day, grabbing your purse and jacket before heading out and locking the door behind you.

“Hurry up, Si! We got a pretty lady waiting for us!”

“She won’t even be home yet by the time we’re there. We still have to make dinner.” Simon laughs at Johnny’s eagerness, closing the car door as they step up onto the sidewalk.

They decide to split for a moment; Johnny goes to the left to get the dessert from your favorite little bakery and Simon goes right to run into the grocery store.

Johnny remembers your favorite, a small lemon raspberry cake, just big enough for the three of you to share.

“I love you sweetness” a text comes through. They must finally be having a break, you think.

“I hope you’re having a good day, mo ghraidh.” You smile down at your phone, quick to touch the keyboard to reply.

Simon gets all of the ingredients for a nice steak dinner and he doesn’t forget a bouquet of roses and baby's breath for you.

When they finally arrive home, they both work like a well oiled machine to set up the house for you in surprise. Johnny takes to lighting candles and scattering rose petals in your bedroom with a grin on his face while Simon commits to getting dinner made.

Luckily they finish with enough time to spare to wash themselves of their trip and a little make out session of their own as they share the steam of the shower. They restrain themselves to go any further, wanting to see you first.

Simon smirks as he trails his fingers across the little number you had sent, it hanging from your dresser drawer. He thinks of all the ways he’s going to have you tonight and reiterates the thought of tearing it off of your body.

“Siiiii! She’s home!” you hear, fumbling with your keys more.

They both nearly trample you over, two big dogs who still are puppies at heart. Simon gets to you first, squeezing you tight.

“Si... can’t… breathe..” he instantly loosens his hold, only for Johnny to envelop you both in a bear hug.

“Happy Valentine’s Day bonnie!”

“I thought you guys weren’t home for another week, Price said!” you smiled wide, tears in your eyes.

Johnny kisses you like his life depended on it. Simon shoves your purse off of your shoulder, making room for his lips to be on your neck.

“So did we, but it finished early and lover-boy here made us all dinner.”

“I… really? I’m sorry, I’m just so happy to see you both.” you cry.

You kiss Simon on his beautiful scarred lips before Johnny takes your hand, leading you to the dining room to show you what they had put together.

“This is so sweet of both of you. I wish I knew you were going to be home in time, I would’ve done something too.”

“You are something enough, lovey. Now sit, you need to eat so you can keep up tonight,” he winks at you.

“Simon’s right, those pictures just don’t do your body justice, hen.”

Your outfit choice for the day probably wasn't helping their lingering eyes. A black mesh long sleeve with a low cut vest paired with some black wide leg slacks. You regularly pushed the boundaries of business casual in your office. The vest showed off your generous cleavage through the mesh in the right light.

“Looks like you get to see it for yourself right here in front of you.” You take a sip of your water, letting the condensation run down your hand, down your wrist before setting the glass down. Their eyes follow your fingertips as you slowly trail over your own jawline to your lips, pretending to be as innocent as possible.

You can practically see them drooling. You take another bite of garlicky steak, and another bite of buttery mashed potatoes, but not before using your lips to shape it to your spoon.

“So, how was your flight in, then?” you start, trying to act as if you didn't want to maul the two men in front of you.

You stab another chunk of meat, making sure to soak up as much juice as you can before lifting it to your lips. You purposefully let the red flow from your lips, enough to make a trail down your neck to the middle of your chest. You put on a practiced surprised look as you reach for your napkin. You didn't even make it that far before you heard the chair across from you sliding against the tile.

“That’s it,” Simon growls out. He quickly moves his chair back, standing to his full height before stepping towards you. His hand is around your throat, making you instantly look up to him with pleading eyes before he pulls you out of your chair and against his chest.

You smirk inside your brain, you made his resolve break before you even got halfway through dinner.

“You just couldn’t behave yourself, could you, lass?”

You glance at Johnny to the side of you.

“Of course she couldn’t, the little whore is just as desperate as we are.” Simon has his lips on your own just as he’s finished speaking, swallowing every noise you make.

You whimper and squirm against his strong hold. You notice Johnny's warmth come up behind you. You feel his hands gliding over your hips, fingertips digging into soft skin. Its almost sensory overload as you get attacked from both sides.

Lips and hands on every inch of skin they could find and claim as their own. One particular hickey being made on your neck makes you moan out.

“I've missed those sweet sounds of yours, lass, so much.” Johnny rambles as he comes up for air.

Your hands wander too, between Simon's chest in front of you and Johnny's thighs that are flush with the backs of your own. You still feel like being a tease as you reach backwards towards Johnny with one hand. You firmly rub the palm of your hand along his hard cock that’s still confined to his fitted jeans. He bites off a whimper that escapes him when he feels you grasp around his entire cock.

You feel Simons smirk against your lips when he hears this, you know he has a special deviation when he has two submissives. Your other hand reaches up and around Simon, scratching at the hair on the nape of his neck before digging your nails in lightly. Your nails are his kryptonite. You can practically see his eyes roll back and he smiles evilly.

Before you can think of your next move, you're being picked up and carried to the bedroom. You yelp in surprise.

You're thrown onto the bed, Simon clawing at your clothes in an effort to discard them to the floor. He succeeds as Johnny does the same to him. Simon takes the back of Johnny's neck into his hand, giving him a squeeze that makes him melt like putty in both his hands and mouth. You can feel your pussy clench at the sight of your two men kissing each other.

Once Simon has had his fill, Johnny refocuses his attention to you, knowing what he wants right away. He pulls you up onto all fours and sheds his jeans. His thick cock bobs in front of your face and your eyes go wide. He takes a fistful of your hair and your mouth opens.

“Look at tha’, trained her so good Si, ready to take cock at any moment,” he mumbles out.

He slides his cock into your mouth easily, moaning out at the warmth enveloping him. You do your best to try to take him in all the way before he hits the back of your throat. You gag a little at first but keep sucking, you’ve missed him so much. The hand he has in your hair tightens as he curses out as the other reaches down to play with your nipples. He just cant help but to start to fuck your mouth a bit faster. Your breath tries to keep up, but tears start to run when a smack comes across your ass from behind.

“You like when he face fucks you, huh?”

You try to respond but all you can do is moan around the cock in your mouth. You look up at Johnny for the first time to see his eyes half lidded, full of lust.

“God I love yer eyes when my cock is in yer mouth.” He wipes away blackened tears that are running down your face. He doesn't stop thrusting.

Simon takes this opportunity to spit in his hand and start stroking his cock before he gets up behind you. You feel his weight shift the bed and it gets you excited. You know your pussy is glistening wet without having to look. Getting talked to like that will make that happen.

You push back against him when you feel his hand on your inner thighs, lining himself up with your entrance.

Simon groans out as the tip of his cock slides in between your velvet folds. You close your eyes until you’re full to the hilt with him.

“This pussy was made to take my cock, love.”

He sets a pace that makes your body rock forwards, taking in more of Johnny each time. Simon reaches a hand around and sets an equally fast pace against your clit that's slick with the two of you.

You’re being used from both ends and your mind starts to feel fuzzy. Johnny pulls out of your mouth when he sees you’re about to cum. He jerks at his cock a few times as you moan out loudly, arms shaking. He looks up to see Simons eyes closed, hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you and he comes onto your face.

You open your glazed over eyes when you feel warmth hit your skin.

That's when Simon pushes you down to your chest, making your back arch and ass press flush against his hips.

His thrusts become uncoordinated but no less powerful until he finally slows with another long groan. He cums deep inside your cunt that's still pulsing around him.

All three of you sigh, releasing the tension that's built up for a little more than two months.

You instantly curl up onto your side, exhausted, not wanting to leave your soft bed and two lovers. You feel a warm cloth wiping both your face and pussy shortly afterwards.

You’re still deep within your mind with a smile on your face as you hear Johnny, “Looks like that little number in the drawer will have to be ripped off another night.”

#cod fanfic #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon x johnny x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #valentines day

[bagofshinyrocks]

Government name vs Military callsign

Prompt: What scares them worse? Addressing them by their full government name, or addressing them by their military callsign?

Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 0.9k

Warnings: none

John Price

Government name.

Calling him Captain or Skipper just ends with him sauntering to where ever you are and ask (in an obnoxiously self-satisfied voice) what you wanted. Like a cat pretending it can’t hear the urgency in your tone when you say to get off the counter.

“If you want me to ‘shake a leg’, call my name, luvie.”

Now if you holler “Jonathan Price”, he’ll drop something. Either the newspaper in his hands, or his heart into his stomach. He sure as hell moves his ass with a purpose, and he’s peering into the room with an apology on his lips.

“Yes, luv? What’s wrong, poppet?”

“Lift the other end of the couch, would you?”

He does, and you shimmy it further back in the room. “Anything else I can do, love o’ my life?” He’s hovering, and gently coaxing you into his arms. Gauging how mad you were at him. You curled into him and kissed his chin. Then stepped away with a pat to his chest.

“No, sweetheart, just wanted you to shake a leg is all.”

When he remembers your previous conversation, he groans and tells you to fuck off.

Simon Riley

Military callsign.

When you two are alone, and he’s already given you permission to call him Simon, don’t call him Ghost. When you say that word, he assumes one of his mates are at the door or on the phone, and goes from Simon to Ghost. Stalks into the room with narrowed eyes, only to find you in the kitchen. By yourself.

“Ghost, you want a sandwich too? Turkey and cheese.”

“Fuck you callin’ me that for?” 

Once he sees you’re alone, he swoops in and wraps around you like a hoodie. A firm kiss to your ear, then your cheek, then spun you around. Back pressed to the counter top. Settles his face right close to yours.

“We playin’ games now?” You didn’t want to upset him, so you pressed a kiss to his nose. His grumpy look faded a bit.

“Sorry, baby.” Arms wrapped carefully around his shoulders. And your fingers scratch his scalp. Another kiss to his nose. “I’m sorry for playing games with you. Simon Riley.”

Hearing his name on your lips finally cracked, and he gave you a smile. A little scar on the upper lip. You gave it a kiss, and then pressed a kiss to his lips. 

A quick surge forward, and you only just had time to shove aside the things behind you before you found yourself on the countertop.

Kyle Garrick

Government name.

He doesn’t mind being called Gaz, and you’ll use Kyle and Gaz interchangeably. Doesn’t even mind if you use “Kyle” or “honey” in front of his squadmates. Though “Kylie” he does have some displeasure with.

“I’ll have you know, Soap is still calling me Kylie, you asshole.”

Call him ‘Garrick’, and he knows that you are pretending to be mad at him. He slinks over and rubs his face against your cheek. He’s too cute for you to stay mad.

If you shout “Kyle Garrick”, he comes running. He could have sworn that he put his clothes in the hamper. And did the dishes. And taken out the recycling. Damn, what was it that he forgot?

“Kyle Ga-”

“Yes, dear!” Shit, he didn’t mean to ‘yes, dear’ you. “Yes, my dear, I’m right here.”

You pause your laundry folding and summon him with a crook of your finger. Once he’s close enough, you tap your lip with the same finger. “I need a kiss.”

He blinked once. Then twice. “God damn you.” He squishes your face in his hands and gave you a quick, firm kiss. “Don’t stress me out like that. Thought you were mad.”

“Give me another kiss, or I will be.”

He rapid fire kissed your mouth, chin, and cheeks, then gave you a smack on the ass before returning to the living room. 

“In my own fucking home,” he muttered.

John MacTavish

Military callsign.

He’s got some thick skin. And he’s had his name shouted angrily many a time. He would all but skip into the room with a big smile on his face. The only people who shouted that name (and wore out the scare-factor on it) were his family members. Shouting “John MacTavish” meant you loved him. You were also mad at him, but you loved him. That was more important. Even with your scowl and the gross pile of garbage he kept forgetting to take out. You loved him.

Now shouting his callsign reminded him of his superior officers.

“SOAP!”

Shit shit shit. He put down his beer and ran from the garage to the backyard. Leg brace over his sweats, low cut muscle shirt that you also wolf-whistle at when he wears. You were only weeding the garden boxes.

“JOHNNY!”

“I’m here, bonnie,” he hollered, rounding the corner. You were sitting in the dirt, a tidy pile of weeds and dead plant bits next to you.

“C’mere, c’mere.”

He leaned down next to you, hand on your shoulder and good knee on the ground. “Wassit?”

You pointed to the leaf in your hand. “A caterpillar, Johnny. An itsy-bitsy caterpillar.”

He sighed heavily and kissed your shoulder. “Bonnie, I thought something was wrong.”

“Hm?” You spared him a glance. “What are you talking about, bubba?”

“You called me Soap.”

“Did I? Didn’t mean to spook you, loverboy.” You gave him an apologetic kiss on the lips. “Just wanted you to see the caterpillar before he wiggled off.”

Posted: 2023 Dec 10

#cod x reader #cod fluff #john price x reader #john price fluff #captain john price fluff #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick fluff #gaz x reader #gaz x fluff #soap x reader #soap fluff #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish fluff #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish fluff #cod mw2 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 fluff #cod mw2 fluff

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

#ghost cod #ghost x gn reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost angst #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley angst #call of duty fic #captain john price #gaz call of duty #soap call of duty #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #141!reader #141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #ghost mw2 #call of duty angst #johnny mactavish #john price

[loveindefinitely]

task force 141 with a controversially young civilian girlfriend.

-> mentions of large age-gaps, referenced sexual content, alcohol use. afab!fem!reader. minor dubcon (everyone's drunk.)

thinking that you're studying in uni. working on the side to try and afford rent and, if you're lucky, some noodles every other night. you don't really get seen compared to your friends, who go out clubbing and spend their spare time on dating apps.

one time, your friend drags you to a bar. not usually your scene, considering its clientele is more for tradies, and military-type men. not like the stuck-up blue collar boys at your uni.

cue you getting drunk off your ass, barely even standing, when you bump into one johhny mactavish.

he holds your elbows, your chest crashing into his. gentle with it, too -- kind and sweet and grounding.

"y'alright, lass?" he asks, a small smirk on his face, eyes darting across your frame greedily. he, in all fairness, looks nearly as drunk as you. he stumbles a little with your weight.

you giggle, tilting your head to look at him. say something stupid like, "you don't look like a student."

his brows raise, his dimples deepen. "aye, very smart, hen."

you preen with the compliment, a cheesy grin stuck to your face. you make no move to stand up and leave. you think your friend just left with a guy anyways.

johnny moves you, muscled arm around your waist as he takes you to a booth.

three other men sit in it, only one looking somewhere in a ten-year age bracket to you. they're all impossibly large, filling out the space with ease. your stomach swoops, but you easily blame the alcohol.

manoeuvring you so you sit in his lap, johnny's hand is a comforting weight on your waist. he huffs a laugh.

"didn't realise we were goin' for jailbait, soap," the youngest one chimes, dark features shining in the pub's dim light. his eyes trail your frame silkily.

you can't stop the roll of your eyes -- your inhibitions have made you senseless. "'m not, 'm completely," you drag out the syllables, "legal."

a hand on your thigh makes you jolt, and when you look over, a blonde man with a black medical mask raises an unimpressed brow. "got a problem, kid?"

you shoot him a weak glare. "not a kid. weirdo."

the arm around your waist tightens, as does the weirdo's hand encompassing your thigh.

"not scared of anythin', are you darl'?" the final man in the booth asks, hands folded together where they rest at the table. he looks at least double your age, and that simple fact along with his drawling words has your core tightening.

"what's there to be scared of?" you ask, stupidly. your head tilts to the side, unknowingly moving to rest on johnny's shoulder. he doesn't comment.

"miss bein' young and drunk," gaz sighs, hand softly gripping the gin sat on the table in front of him.

"you look young," your brows furrow, not understanding. how old could he really be, to act so nostalgic of your current predicament? "how old are you guys?"

it's an embarrassing question -- makes you feel like a child all over again. but your interest is quickly peaking, and your need for answers overpowers your need for decorum.

johnny's the one to answer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers.

"gaz, the pretty one over there, he's twenty-eight," he murmurs, heat stirring low in your gut as you nod mindlessly, meeting gaz's eyes.

johnny stokes his thumb over the skin of your hip, and you curl into him further -- stranger be damned.

"i'm thirty," he hums, and god, he sounds so fucking sensual you're about to melt into his arms. if you aren't already.

"the guy in the mask?" said man's hand tightens impossibly against your skin, fingers just shy of grazing your aching pussy, "he's thirty-seven. got a lot of experience, aye?"

you shudder.

"what about you?" you end up voicing, shyly meeting the last man's gaze. he takes a slow sip of his whiskey.

he leans back into the cushion, eyeing you carefully.

"forty-three."

your thighs squeeze together, and fuck, if that's not a turn-on. no matter how unsafe you should feel, surrounded by four military-grade, older men, it only manages to have you wet beyond belief.

all you can manage is one question.

"take me home?"

#⌨️ : love's writing #will defs continue this later #just #ughhhhhh #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #soap cod #polyamory #poly cod #poly tf141 #tf141 x reader #tf 141 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #john price #captain john price #cod x you #call of duty x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you

[swordsandholly]

Been thinking about the 141 boys coming to visit your southern family…

Price ends up out back with your papaw and uncles staring at a riding mower that they haven’t been able to get back up and working. Beer in hand, hip cocked, mimicking their ‘uh-uh’s and ‘yep’s. He tries to help with grilling but your dad won’t let him anywhere near it because “damn brits can’t cook out to save their lives. I’ve seen what y’all eat.”

Ghost gets a little overwhelmed by the women fussing over him. He’s on his third plate of food and your mimi is still loading him up with more mac n cheese because “He’s just such a big boy - he really needs to fill up! Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” Luckily Simon is a literal human vacuum - a total garbage disposal. He drinks about a pitcher of sweet tea by himself because you can’t tell me that man doesn’t have a deadly sweet tooth. You have to drive home after the food coma they put him in.

Gaz is the decided favorite son-in-law (never mind that you aren’t married yet.) He’s just so polite, happily helping wherever needed. Quick witted and more than prepared to participate in the small town gossip. Giving genuine, dramatic gasps at the news that the preachers son of your family’s rival church took a trip (went to prison). It just makes sense that boy always had a screw loose, after all. He picks up on the cooking easily enough, asking your mom for all her recipes to make both you and her a lovely custom cook book of family recipes.

Soap goes absolutely hog wild on the four wheelers with your cousins. Regaling the younger ones with stories of his ‘adventures’ (pranks on the other 141 members.) He picks up some of your slang for the fun of it. After all, sigogglin’ just works with a Scottish accent so well. Unfortunately he can’t handle the jalapeño corn bread - it’s just too spicy for the poor boy.

#anyway back to working on my proper fics #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #captain price #141 x reader #price x reader #john soap mctavish #johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 31 - Free Use

Poly 141 x Reader - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Glimpses into your life as a housewife and free use toy for the 141 post-retirement. (Reader POV, second person)

cw: soft sex, half-drunk sex, light somnophilia, anal sex

note: last kinktober of the month! sorry i got off by a day at the end here, but i hope you guys have enjoyed everything so far :) btw this is less "free use" and more "sex with the 141 while living in domestic bliss"

Your days are filled with sex. Sex with all of your boys, in every position you can think of, in every room of the house they’d bought for the five of you after retiring. 

You all split the chores evenly these days. No one does more than they’re more comfortable with, and you’ve all found your stride, something to give you purpose, after the rigidity of the military.

Gaz has taken to bee-keeping. As odd as it sounds, he’s got the patience for it, and he’s quite protective of his bees, even has nearly an entire library of books he’s taught himself with. Price helps him out by selling the honey he harvests, keeping track of his profits and managing the household’s finances. 

Ghost hunts, spends his days out finding game to bring home, tracking herds and predators around your property. Johnny does a little of everything - fixes things when they break, chops firewood every morning, helps Simon skin his prey, tries to help Gaz and his bees. 

And you take care of the house. You make the meals, clean up after everyone, and find yourself perfectly happy to keep your men fed and warm. 

Your other chore is to bend over whenever they want. Well, bend into any position whenever they want, Ghost and Soap tend to enjoy getting a bit more creative. It’s not really much of a chore, considering how eager you are to do it.

It’s a great deal for you. Johnny and Kyle are always eager to get you off, and neither Simon nor Price is stingy with the orgasms these days either. You live your life floating between domestic labor and orgasms - not a bad existence, by your metric. You get to live without a care in the world, four men to take care of and four men to take care of you. It’s like a dream come true.

———————————————————————

You hum to yourself as you dance around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly apron as you wait for your pancakes to cook. The small radio on the dining room table plays music from a local radio station, something cheery to start your day. It’s hard not to smile, with sunshine pouring in from the windows and a batch of fresh eggs to scramble on the stove. 

Your small moment of bliss is interrupted by a pair of hands on your hips and a large body bracketing yours.

There isn’t even a moment of fear, you instinctually lean back into the man behind you. A moment later, a rough beard brushes over your cheek.

“Pancakes this mornin’?” Price asks, big paws resting on the softness of your hips.

“Hmm,” you hum, tilting your head to claim his lips. He sways the two of you back and forth slowly, to the beat of the song, and lets you take your time with him. “Blueberries in yours,” you tell him when you come up for a breath of air.

One hand shifts to your ass, the other to your stomach, and you feel him smile. “Thank you, love. Got time for a quick round before they burn?”

You mimic his smile, let him bend you over slowly. “You’re just in time, Captain, I haven’t cracked the eggs yet.”

“Perfect,” he purrs, pressing himself to your backside. He tucks his plaid pajama pants down a little, rubbing his warm morning wood against you. You fold your arms beneath your head, let your eyes drift closed as his fingers make quick work of getting you ready.

Moments later, the heavy length of his cock fills you slowly. You moan, shifting your legs a little bit wider as he massages your waist.

“There you go,” he sighs, bottoming out and grinding himself slowly inside of you. “Tight as always, perfect girl.”

You giggle a little drowsily, wiggling your hips against his. “Always for you, John.”

He sighs contentedly, pulling out slowly. “Don’t I know it.”

He fucks you slowly, a steady pace that drags against all your most sensitive parts on every thrust. John’s thick, and the stretch isn’t quite comfortable with no prep. But you’re still a little loose from your time with Soap and Gaz last night, so it’s far from painful to take him.

He hunches over you as he gets closer and closer to the edge, elbows resting on either side of you and breath ghosting across your nape.

“Aw,” you hear Soap say,voice rough from sleep as he steps into the kitchen. “I wanted first go today.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Johnny,” Gaz teases, settling into a chair in the little breakfast nook Simon had built soon after moving in. “You’re the one who stayed up so late with her last night.”

“Wasn’t just me, jackass, you’re the one who-”

“Boys,” Price grunts, hips slamming against yours, leaving you squirming beneath him. “Will you shut the fuck up while I’m balls deep in our girl?”

You can’t help but snort beneath him, pushing yourself up enough to arch your back further, stick your ass further out for him. “Ye-yeah, boys.”

“Hush,” Price scolds, one hand shifting to your neck where he forces you flat to the counter again. “‘M almost there…”

He groans lowly as he buries himself deep inside of you, pumping slowly as you tighten up, trying to milk him. “Fuck, feels good…”

You smile against your arms as the pleasure that had been building inside of you starts to dull to a simmer, something warm in the root of you.

Price pulls out only moments later, two thick fingers tucking into you to keep any of his come from dripping out. “Keep me safe inside you, pretty thing, c’mon. Clench down.”

You take a deep breath and try your best to listen, straightening up and doing your best to keep yourself from dripping down your thighs. 

He turns you around, leaning you back against the counter and cupping your cheeks in his hands, tugging your face up to give you a soft kiss. “Thank you,” he whispers into your mouth, just quiet enough for you to hear.

“Of course.” You reach up to grab his wrists, holding him close. “Never gonna say no to you, John.”

The two of you linger in the moment, sunlight warming your skin as you breathe into each other.

It’s Soap that interrupts you, an intentionally obnoxious clearing of his throat nearly making you jump. “Any chance at coffee sometime today, bonnie?”

You huff a laugh into Price’s mouth, pushing him away and shooting a half-playful look to Johnny. “Can’t give me a minute of peace, can you?”

He smirks, “Nope.”

John scoffs as he pulls away, moving you with him and giving you a quick tap to the ass to send you over to the counter with the coffee machine. “Someone’s gotta teach you some patience, MacTavish.”

“If Ghost still hasn’t gotten it into him, no one is,” Gaz laughs, shifting enough for Price to join him on the bench. 

“Who says I haven’t?” Ghost says, stepping from the hallway. He’s already got a cigarette lit between his lips, and you wave him away with a spatula.

“No!” You scold, trying to shoo him closer to the window. “No smoking in my house! You know I hate the smell.”

Ghost rolls his eyes good-naturedly but lets you herd him to the open window, resting a shoulder on the windowsill and blowing a mouthful of air. You hmph, satisfied, and move to flip the pancakes. “You’re not the one who has to get that smoke out of all the furniture, you know.”

Ghost sighs, but he’s dramatic enough about it for you to know that he’s intentionally exaggerating his annoyance. “Awful early for all that nagging, woman.”

You glare at him playfully, picking up an egg to crack. “Awful early for a cig, too.”

He huffs and you crack your egg, the kitchen shifting into a comfortable silence. You continue your humming as the song changes to something more upbeat, unable to keep a smile from your face.

———————————————————————

You’re half tipsy, giggling into Soap’s mouth as the two of you stumble into the house. You manage to trip over the lip of the entrance, and you yelp as you start to fall.

Johnny just barely manages to twist and catch the both of you in time, grunting loudly as he hits the ground. The breath is knocked from the both of you, and you lay there in the dark for a moment, still.

You’re giggling as soon as you can breathe again, unable to stay still with all the energy and wiggling against his chest. “Jo-Johnny!”

“What?” He pants, still not fully able to take a breath in. You can see the outline of a smile, though, and his hands come up to fully cup your ass. “You were the one taht tripped, lass!” 

That only makes you laugh harder, kicking your feet against his shins. “I-I know!”

Now he laughs, a full-bellied sound that has you bouncing on his chest. He manages to push himself up so that you’re in his lap, and presses his mouth to yours without warning.

You make a high sound of surprise but quickly kiss him back, licking into his mouth when he parts his lips. 

Your kiss is messy, both of you a little too drunk and a little too needy to bother for tact. Johnny’s softer than he usually is, all tongue and no teeth. You wrap your arms around his neck, shifting so your knees rest on either side of him and squeeze his hips.

“Need you,” he pants into your mouth, shifting you over him to start a slow grind. “Need to be inside you, bonnie.”

“Yeah, please,” you say, quickly dropping your hands to his belt and clumsily working at his belt. It takes several tries for you to get it undone, and both of you get more and more desperate. Your underwear get more and more damp as you work yourself over the rough denim of his jeans, your skirt rucked up around your hips as he palms at your ass.

“Come on,” he growls, landing a harsh slap against the meat of your thigh. You yelp at the sting, then giggle, and finally manage to get his belt loose, quickly tugging it off.

“There you go,” you mumble, throwing the belt to the side and hearing it slide against the hardwood. “C’mon, c’mon, need you now, Johnny.”

He nearly snarls into your mouth, jerking your panties to the side and stuffing two fingers into you with no warning. You jolt higher on your knees and moan, digging your nails into his shoulder.

“Sit still,” he growls, tugging you back down and scissoring his fingers quickly to spread you. He slips a third finger in easily, your cunt already slick and dripping for him. “Stop fuckin’- stop wigglin’ around.”

You can’t help but giggle again, pushing your smile against his lips and nipping at his chin. “Can’t hold me down, MacTavish?”

You feel him grin, growling playfully, and before you can keep prodding him he’s got you flipped onto the floor beneath him. You squeal when he somehow manages to keep his fingers inside of you, pushing deep as he pins you down. He tucks your knees higher, both of your legs resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll show you held down, lass,” he growls, smile just barely visible above you. “Want it rough, then?”

You bite back another laugh, pushing up just enough to bite his bottom lip and tug it down with you. “As rough as you’ve got, MacTavish.”

It works as the perfect taunt you’d meant it as, and he’s buried in your tight heat before you can try and push him any further. Your head falls back against the hardwood floor as his falls to your throat, both of you moaning loudly as his hips meet your thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, teeth pressed against your throat. When you arch your neck even further, he bites into your flesh, sucking a hicky and making you ever wetter between the thighs. “Fuck.”

“She tight, Johnny?”

You both yelp at the sudden voice, Johnny jolting away from your neck and shifting inside of you, causing you both to melt again.

There, in the corner of the room, is Ghost. He’s smoking a cigarette by the window, illuminated only by the glow of his cigarette butt and the moon. You can’t quite see his expression, but you can just imagine the cocky smirk.

Johnny groans above you, sinking back down to press kisses along your throat and forcing your knees almost to the side of your head. “Scared the shit outta’ me, Ghost,” he sighs, pulling out just enough to give you a few tiny thrusts. You moan, letting yourself relax into the floor.

“Not surprised,” Ghost says, and you watch as he stubs out the cigarette and take a few steps to where the two of you are tangled in each other. “How much did you two have to drink?”

You laugh at the question, but it melts into a moan as Johnny starts to find a rhythm that works for both of you. Your knees nearly knock against your own face as he makes his way across your neck, leaving bruising kisses. 

“Not-” you choke a bit on a particularly rough thrust, just barely managing to keep your eyes open and watch as Simon settles into an armchair. “Not that much.”

“Yeah,” Johnny pants, lifting himself up enough to look down at you. “How-how much’ve you had, L.t.?”

Ghost snorts, taking a swig from a beer bottle you hadn’t noticed before. “Less’n you two, I can tell that much.”

You and Johnny both snicker, half out of breath already, but none of you try and keep speaking as Johnny starts to really fuck into you, finding a perfect rhythm that’s just a little messier than usual, a little jerkier. 

The two of you make no attempt to be quiet, moaning and whining loudly as you work to find that peak. Even with folded in half as you are, you try to push into him as much as you can to help him hit the perfect spot inside of you. 

You nearly scream when he does, clenching down so tightly onto him that he’s forced to a still inside of you, his length throbbing in time with your heartbeat. 

The world blurs around you as Johnny takes your lips again, pressing your tongues together in a slick slide as he batters inside of you.

“Clo-close,” you gasp, clawing down his shoulders. Your nails dig in enough through his shirt to have him moaning, arching further into your touch.

“Me too, bonnie.”

He shifts enough to lean his weight further onto your thighs, newly freed hand smoothing down your chest and stomach to work against your clit. You melt beneath him, muscles going loose as you turn into nothing but a limp doll for him to fuck.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your orgasm starts to overcome you, Johnny’s work against your clit and the hot length inside of you finally shoving you over the edge.

“Fuck- fuck!” Johnny nearly shouts above you, your orgasm triggering his own. You cling tight to him, dragging his body as close to you as possible while your muscles clench down around him. The two of you are nearly drooling in each other’s mouths, eager for as much physical touch as possible.

It feels like an impossible amount of time later when you hear Ghost crouch down next to you, see his shadow cast over both you and Johnny. “You two done, then?”

You feel Johnny huff where he’s leaned against your cheek, feel his smile grow against yours. 

“Yeah, Si,” you say, squirming a bit beneath Johnny to try and get out from under him. “I think we’re done.”

Johnny gans a little but he obliges and shifts back enough for his softened cock to pull out of you. You both whine in sync at the separation, and he finally lets your legs fall to the ground, heels thudding against the floor.

Johnny rolls off of you, flopping to the floor next to you. “Carry us to bed, L.t.”

You giggle and blink up at Simon, softened from your orgasm and the lingering buzz from your night out. “Yeah, L.t.,” you lift your arms high, making grabby hands like a toddler. “Carry us to bed.”

Ghost snorts above you, but he still leans down and scoops you up beneath the knees and the back. You squeal when he hefts you over his shoulder into a fireman's carry. He ducks low again and you grasp onto the bottom of his sweatshirt, then giggle when Johnny flops bonelessly over Ghost’s other shoulder.

He carries the two of you effortlessly down the hall, and Johnny’s soft laugh joins yours - well, at least before you hear a muffled slap and he quiets himself/ Of course that only makes you laugh, earning you a spank of your own.

You’re dropped rather carelessly onto the massive mattress all five of you share these days, hand flopping against what you’re sure is Price’s chest as Ghost falls on top of Johnny where he’s dropped.

You hear a muffled oof! from next to you and curl into Price with a smile, tucking yourself close to his chest. He rumbles a low noise, instinctually tucking you close. You can hear Gaz getting annoyed with Ghost and Soap, feel him kicking at them to fight for his own spot on the mattress. You fall asleep with Ghost’s back to yours and Price’s chest to yours, surrounded by warmth.

———————————————————————

You groan into the sheets in frustration, fists clenched tight. “Simon, come on, please.”

He spanks you sharply, but the pain is hardly noticeable compared to the need you’re drowning in. 

“Quiet,” he grunts, three fingers spreading your ass. “Need to stretch you out properly, don’t want any tears.”

You whine, arching your back and pushing your ass further into the air. “I’m ready, I promise, just need you inside. I’ve been stretched for the last ten minutes!”

“And you’ll get stretched for ten more if you don’t quit complaining.”

It’s almost impossible to bite back a complaint at that, but you manage to dull it down to just a near-painful eye roll. You try your best to stay still for him, stay patient, even as you feel like your pussy is dripping like a faucet.

Ghost has fucked you with far less prep than this, you know he’s just trying to be an asshole - no pun intended. You also know that the more you rush him, the slower he’ll go. So you force yourself a little looser, let your body sink more comfortably into the position he’s got you in.

It doesn’t make the wait any easier.

You’re not sure how long it’s really been when he finally deems you stretched enough, but he finally pulls his fingers free. You whimper at the cold dribble of lube as he spreads a bit more across your stretched hole, the slick sounds echoing in the room telling you he’s likely spreading it across himself too.

“Alright, love,” he says, notching himself at your back hole with both hands on your hips. “Loosen up for me now.”

The stretch is sinful as he finally gives you his cock, enough for you to feel the sting but not at a painful point. Your eyes roll back in pleasure instead of frustration, and your knees shift just a little wider to welcome him more fully into your body.

“Fuck, you feel good<’ he grunts, grip tightening on your hip.

On a normal night with Ghost, you’d expect minimal prep and long rounds of edging. He likes to keep you from coming for as long as possible, then coax an orgasm that feels earthshattering from you when he finally shoves you off that ledge. Either that, or he fucks you quick and dirty - in the yard outside, in the shower, in the middle of the night, really any time he feels like getting off. With you around, there’s no need to masturbate. That leaves you getting bent over and used at any time he feels the slightest urge to get off, but you couldn’t mind less.

Now, though, Ghost paces himself far more slowly than usual. His thrusts are long, bottoming out and pulling back until the head of his cock just barely breaches your hole. If you couldn’t feel the way his hands bruise your hips, you’d almost call his pace leisurely. 

The two of you are near silent as he fucks you, content to fill the air with soft moans and the occasional whine instead of dirty talk. It feels nice, such slow sex with Simon. It’s a side of him he rarely lets you see, even now.

He knows you can’t come from anal alone, and is feeling generous enough to grab one of your hands and shift it down, telling you, “Rub your clit for me, love. Wanna feel you come.”

And, well, who are you to disobey?

You bring yourself to a slow, rolling orgasm with rhythmic circles against your clit, hips working against his even with his grip. You moan more loudly now, moith open and spit spreading across the pillow.

“Si-Simon,” you gasp. “Feels so good, so deep.”

“Yeah? Deep in your ass, huh, love?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Can hardly br-breathe around you, Si.”

“I know, so big in your little hole. You’re taking me well, though, being such a good girl for me. Gonna - fuck, love - gonna make me come, give you a nice load then plug you up.”

“Yes, yes…”

“You want that? Want to be stuffed with my come? Keep me inside of you ‘til I say you can take the plug out?”

“Yes, I’ll keep it in for you, Si, be so good for you.”

“Oh, I know it, love. Always a good girl for me, most perfect girl… fuck, feel so good around me…”

He groans when he finally gets himself off, pulling you back onto his harsher thrusts and letting your channel squeeze the come from him. You rub your clit a few more times, ignoring the aftershocks in favor of forcing your muscles to milk him a bit.

When he finally pulls out, he tucks a good-sized plug into your loosened hole before any of his come can slip out. You shift from your knees to your stomach with a soft hum, tugging a pillow into your arms as your eyes drift shut.

“You stayin’ in here for a bit?” Ghost asks, brushing some of your hair away from your face and dipping down to press a dry kiss to your cheek.

“Hmm. Gonna take a nap before dinner.”

“Alright. Need any help tonight?”

“No,” you hum, curling deeper into the bedding. “You can set the table, if you really want.”

You hear him laugh as he pulls away, weight shifting off of the mattress. “I’ll leave that to Johnny, I think.”

A few moments later the door click softly shut behind him, and you float into a peaceful slumber while trying to half-plan dinner. 

———————————————————————

You’re half-asleep when you feel someone shift in bed next to you, their body covering yours. There’s a distinct hardness against the small of your back, and you press back against him.

“Stay still,” you hear Gaz whisper in your ear as he urges you further onto your stomach. You hum a little in response as he settles over you, kneeing your thighs apart enough for him to rest between them. “Don’t wanna wake anyone else up, right sweetheart?”

You hum again in what’s probably supposed to be agreement, but is really just a half-asleep sound. You trust all your boys, though, so you’re perfectly content to let Kyle do whatever he wants.

You sleep naked these days, so it’s easy for him to spread your cheeks a bit, to rub at your folds. You’re still a little damp from the shower sex with Price you’d had right before bed, and Kyle doesn’t seem to think you need much more than that.

You’re almost asleep again when you feel the tip of his cock at your hole, and then the familiar weight of him entering you. It’s hard not to groan, especially when you’re so dazed, but you think you do a good job.

Well, until Kyle shushes you loudly, stuffing a few of his fingers into your mouth. 

You make a small offended noise, but it shifts into a sound of pleasure when he sinks fully inside of you.

“Hush. Don’t wanna share you right now, just needed to feel you for a bit.”

You feel his hips shift against yours before he sort of falls to the side, taking you with him. You’re left spooning him, his cock buried deep inside of you and kept warm by your body.

He sighs, pleased, against your back and pulls his fingers from your mouth, letting his hand float down to rest on one of your breasts. He squeezes you for a few moments, but that only works you up more and has you squirming against him.

Kyle makes a small, whining noise and squeezes you more tightly to him. “Stay still, love. Just want to hold you, let you hold me. Go back to sleep, yeah?”

You sigh, debate trying to get him to finish what he started, but ultimately decide that it sounds like far too much work for your current state. 

So instead you let yourself relax into Gaz, body quickly adjusting to the weight and stretch of him. It’s easier than you might’ve thought to doze off like that, held close to Kyle’s chest.

#fun fact: this is completely unedited! anyway - yall ready for these tags? #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 31 #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #john price x reader #john price #price x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #poly 141 x reader #141 x reader #is that all? did i do it right? IDK! #oh wait #bo writes #kyle garrick x reader #now that we're at the ends of the tags can i confess that i kinda hate this?

[chaosandmarigolds]

“No, no no, baby-baby let mama talk-“ much to your dismay your toddler already took off with the tablet down the hall with your husband on face time. With a disgruntled huff you walk down the hall and move to open the door only to falter for a moment as you hear your husbands voice.

“Takin’ care of your mum, bubs?”

“Des sir.”

“Why you runnin’ from her then?”

“Caasaaus I wanna talk to you and when mummy starts to talk to you she doesn’t share.”

A gruff laugh, “Alright alright, well what do you wanna talk about then, lad?”

You stand outside the door for a solid ten minutes before you knocked on the door and moved your son to your lap to smile down at your husband.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey, hot stuff.”

You see him roll his eyes and you bite back a smile.

“Lad told me you’re not sharin enough.”

You playfully gasp, which triggered your sons giddy laughter, “No! Really??”

“Really!”

#lil blerb #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #johnny mactavish #cod x y/n #cod x you #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 #cod imagine #cod fluff #simon fluff #soap x reader #soap fluff #simon riley x female reader #x female!reader

[milf-murdock]

Fever (Simon Riley x Jonny Mactavish x Reader)

When you can’t find what you need, you write what you need. Here’s a little piece because I am sick and feel like shit. This is so wildly self indulgent it should be a crime.

Established Throuple (because having one muscular military man look after me right now simply would not suffice).

Warnings: Full of medical inaccuracies (fever, abdominal pain, basically all my current symptoms 👍) and horrid UK slang, I’m sure, but cut me a break. I wrote this in a feverish haze.

I would be remiss if I did not tip my hat to the Queen and Mother of the Ghoap Throuple™ herself: @peachesofteal If you need more Throuple in your life, like me, you have got to read her stuff.

“We have e’ry fucking right to see her.”

Johnny was defensive, on guard. A bloodthirsty side that only showed itself in the most dire of circumstances. “We’re her next of kin,” he all but growled, glaring daggers at the poor nurse unlucky enough to be the one delivering bad news to the two hulking men in the corner of the deserted waiting room. She wasn’t sure who was more intimidating: the masked man sitting stoically in the chair, his eery silence in stark juxtaposition with his tense posture, stress radiating from him in waves. Or, the aggravated Scott who hadn’t stopped pacing since they stepped over the threshold of the waiting room.

“I understand that,” the nurse tried her best to speak in a soothing, placating voice, but just a bit of exasperation was seeping it’s way into her tone. “However, right now she needs to rest,” she continued, putting emphasis on the single syllable. “Her fever is very high and her body just doesn’t seem to be responding to the medicine.”

At that, Johnny’s pacing came to an abrupt halt. “Whadye mean it’s not responding?” His voice was low, the subtle rise and fall of his chest a telltale sign of his panic.

“Johnny,” Simon’s voice was equally low, a warning. ‘Keep it together,’ He seemed to be saying, rising from his place of solitude and bracing a hand at the nape of Johnny’s neck. He gave a gentle squeeze, ‘We’ve got to keep it together. For her.’

At the commanding tone and familiar gesture, Johnny forced himself to take a breath, inhaling deeply through his nose. His shoulders visibly relaxed, just the slightest, under Simon’s grip. An ounce of the tension in the room dissipated and the nurse also took a deep breath, mimicking the burly man in front of her.

“It just means she needs time," she continued. "The fever will break, and she will hopefully start to be more aware, more with it.”

At that sign of hopefulness, Johnny felt the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding finally leave his chest.

“She needs rest. And she needs time,” The nurse echoed, her voice continuing in that calming tone, a perfect accompaniment to the soothing strokes as Simon rubbed his thumb in a tight circle at the nape of Johnny’s neck, the digit working out some of the tension Johnny carried there.

Defeated, Johnny closed his eyes and nodded his head, all but collapsing into the empty chair beside him. His shoulders slumped forward as he rested his head in his hands, fingers pressing against the tension building behind his eye sockets.

“I’ll come back soon to keep you updated." The nurse shot Simon a sympathetic look before turning and taking her leave. Simon mumbled a quiet “thanks,” before turning his attention back to his beloved.

“I should’ve known something was off this morning,” Johnny lamented, his face still buried in his hands. “She said she wasn’t feeling well, but I dinnae think a thing of it.” His frustration was nearly tangible, and Simon understood it all too well.

The temptation to beat himself up was strong for Simon, but he couldn’t afford that luxury. Right now, both of his partners needed him. They needed him to be strong. They needed him to hold their trio together. They needed him to be their Simon. And so he would.

Withholding his own sigh, Simon took the seat next to Johnny. His strong arms wound their way around the smaller man, pulling him tight to his muscular chest as a hand ran over the buzzed Mohawk.

Typically, Simon avoided any public displays of affection at all costs. But it was nearing 3 in the morning, and the waiting room was deserted, had been for hours. Simon kept up the soothing motion as he held his breathing steady, ensuring Johnny followed his lead. Simon mumbled a quiet, “atta boy,” as he felt Johnny’s breathing mirror his own, the fast pants slowing into something steadier.

The last two hours had been a blur. Simon and Johnny returned home from a meeting with Price shortly after midnight, trying their damned hardest to be silent as they bustled through the doorway. They were practically on top of one another in their hurry to get out of their shoes and outer coats and get to you. It had been a bloody long day and both men were eager to feel your body pressed up against them, looking forward to that moment when your body fell into place between them, in your spot, and the world felt right again. Johnny was already taking his shirt off, throwing the discarded item on the floor and chuckling to himself at the stern fussing you were sure to give him in the morning when you found his clothes strewn about. He stopped in his tracks as he took in your crumpled form on the sofa, buried under a mountain of blankets. He almost walked right past you, would have if the small tuft of your hair peeking out hadn’t caught his attention.

“Love?” He questioned, his brows furrowing in concern as an edge of alarm tinged his tone. Simon’s body tensed at the change in tone, a lead weight settling into his stomach. Johnny’s steps quickened to your side, kneeling down to tug the blanket away from your face and brush a soaked, stray strand of hair from your face. He pulled his hand back as if he’d been burned.

“Steamin bloody Jesus, she’s burning up,” panic starting to flood his voice. Johnny ripped the pile of blankets off of you, a sharp inhale filling his body as he took in your crumpled form against the cushions. You looked so helpless, so pale, a thick sheen covering your face. Simon’s old worn-out army tee, a favorite of yours to lounge around the house in, was nearly soaked through.

Simon had his gloves ripped off in an instant, a steady hand pressed up to your forehead. “Fucking hell,” he muttered. “We’ve got to get her to the hospital.” Simon’s hands were under you, one arm supporting your torso as the other slid under your knees. Pulling you up off the couch, he cradled your body close to his chest, finally stirring you as a soft whine escaped your lips. “Sh-sh-shh,” he soothed. “It’s alright. I’ve got ya now, love.” You buried your face into his chest, curling in on yourself and letting Simon fully support you. You were too out of it to know any better.

“Call the cab, Johnny,” Simon ordered. He was careful to keep his tone strong, steady. Letting the commanding voice of LT shine through, knowing it’s what Johnny needed. Sure enough, as if being snapped out of a bad dream, Johnny blinked and was back on his feet, phone in hand as he called for the ride.

He had to dial twice due to the shaking in his hand.

Put him on the battlefield? No problem. Rigging and disabling explosives? That was his bread and butter.

But this was his love. His partner. The woman responsible for half of all the joy and light in his life. He didn’t know what was going on, but seeing you so limp, nearly lifeless, on the couch struck a fear so deep in his heart he could hardly breathe.

Simon dipped into the taxi, still holding you close in his arms, his grip tight as every muscle in his body tensed at the sound of another muddled cry coming from you. He tamped down on his sense of panic, using every ounce of control his training afforded him to keep calm. He’d been here before, once, when he thought a rogue missile took out his other half.

Because at the time, there was only two halves—him and Johnny. His *better half* he often whispered to Johnny in the still quiet of the night as he held him close in his arms.

And then you came into their lives, and you fit so perfectly. So seamlessly. They never looked back, not for a second.

Simon was brought back to reality by the familiar caress of a well-calloused hand. Simon knew that every bit of fear, worry, and concern in his eyes was on display, mirrored by Johnny’s own blue orbs. Johnny rested his hand on the back of your head, attempting to soothe you with gentle strokes over your damp, tangled hair. “It’s aight, Bonnie,” he murmured. “Ye’ll be alright.” He exchanged a final worried glance with Simon as the taxi pulled up to the hospital.

Johnny jogged up the steps into the emergency room, Simon moving quickly behind him as he held your form. It felt as though your temperature was only rising, and strong shivering shakes had started racking your body not too long ago.

“Help,” Johnny’s shouts could be heard all the way from outside. “We need help.”

The startled staff jumped to attention, two nurses pushing a hospital bed to the entrance to meet Simon, who gingerly laid you down on the crisp white sheets.

“She’s burnin right up,” Simon’s deep voice filled the nurses in, his eyes not leaving your fragile frame as they wheeled you back to the triage area. At the lack of familiar contact, you moaned out in pain, curling over yourself.

Johnny lingered right behind Simon, his eyes widened in panic. “I dinnae what’s wrong,” his words rushing out of his mouth. “She was fine this morning. Just complaining of a light sour stomach and headache.” Johnny and Simon both felt their hearts split in two as you hissed in pain at the contact of the cool stethoscope against your bare skin. “Her temperature’s at 104,” one of the nurses remarked, quickly shifting gears to take your blood pressure. “We need to cool her down now,” the other nurse ordered, calling for ice.

Johnny’s hand instinctively grabbed Simon’s, clutching it tight. It felt like all of the air was being sucked out of the room.

Finally, another nurse took notice of the two worried men, and, after assuring the other nurses had things handled, moved closer to them.

“And you two are….?” He asked, not unkindly.

“We’re her partners,” Simon said firmly, his eyes never leaving your body, his hand tightening around Johnny’s.

You cried out as the first set of cool cloths touched your skin, wincing as if in pain. Still thoroughly out of it, delirious from the fever, you called out the only two names you wanted.

Simon. Johnny.

“We’re here, darling,” Simon was eager to reassure you, his body already moving to find its way to your side until the hands of the nearby nurse raised in protest, preventing him from taking a step further. “We've got her,” the nurse assured. “You have to let us work though. I need you both to step outside.” The nurse’s voice was firm, and if he wasn’t so wracked with panic about your state, Simon would have laughed at the audacity. He towered over the man in scrubs, and could have pushed him aside without a second thought to get to you. Simon straightened his spine, broadening his shoulders, making it crystal fucking clear that nobody was going to keep him from being at his girl’s side.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Johnny’s posture begin to crumple, and his facade all but crashed to the floor.

Your cries of pain were like a dagger to Johnny’s core, and he was clearly fighting to keep it together—and clearly losing, Simon noted. His instincts took over and he stepped over to Johnny, bracing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t know how to help you, but he did know how to help his other lover. A firm hand gripped Johnny’s chin, tugging his gaze upwards to meet his own. “Come on, Johnny,” he said coolly, collecting himself. “They’ve got our girl. She’s in good hands.” Johnny’s wide eyes met Simon’s own, and he felt himself nod in agreement. He felt utterly detached from himself, completely relying on Simon to guide him. Johnny felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulders and then they were moving. Away from your moans, away from the chaos, and into the silence of the waiting area.

“C’mon love, y’gotta eat,” Simon tried in vain to tempt Johnny with a bag of crisps he got from the vending machine. He was desperate to make sure the man ate something.

“Bugger off, m’not hungry,” Johnny replied, barely looking at his partner, choosing instead to stare into the repeating patterns on the hospital floor.

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, the soft fabric of the mask wrinkling up. He took a slow, deep inhale, trying to control his rising frustration. “Look, Johnny…” he started, before taking another breath. “Love, I—“ he was cut off by the sight of the same charge nurse coming back to the lobby. The men were on their feet in a heartbeat, looking expectantly to the nurse. They didn’t dare breathe. Johnny’s hand reached for Simon’s, their small spat long forgotten.

Then the nurse let loose a small smile, “I have good news,” she chirped, and the two men nearly collapsed in relief. Simon’s eyes fluttered close as his breath left his body in an audible whoosh, and Johnny’s eyes began to shine with unshed tears. The words they had been waiting for.

“She’s finally responding to the treatment,” the nurse continued, clearly warming up to the hardened soldiers before her after seeing such a tender side of them. “Her fever is beginning to break. She’s come to a couple of times, asking for you both. Typically, we wouldn’t let anyone in for a few more hours, but I know you two are worried. So as long as you keep it brief, and keep it quiet, you can come back now.”

Johnny’s grip tightened for a moment, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. As the nurse led them through the stale hallways, the two exchanged a nervous glance. Neither of them fared particularly well in the hospital setting. Simon was trying his best to force down unpleasant memories, fully relying on Johnny’s hand clasped in his own to serve as his anchor.

The door to your room clicked open, and there, filling the doorway, were your two lovers. Your partners. You blinked back tears as a weak smile graced your lips. “Well hey there,” your voice was barely above a whisper, weaker than you intended, but you tried to put as much warmth into it as you could manage. Like a dam breaking, both men barreled to your bedside, their evident relief nearly tangible. Simon felt weak on his knees as he took in your sickly form against the stark white sheets.

“I’ll leave you three alone. Remember, take it easy. I can give you five minutes,” she reminded them before shutting the door with a resounding click.

The second he heard that sound, the mask was off.

“You gave us a right scare,” Simon chastised as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. He held his forehead to yours for a heartbeat, breathing you in. You were safe. You were okay. You were going to be okay. He repeated the mantra in his head once more before pressing another kiss to your hairline.

Johnny’s hand found yours against the rough blanket. “Dinnae ever do that to us again, ya hear?” He let out a small smile at the words, clearly intending them to be a joke, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes—no, you saw the hurt and fear behind those baby blues. You squeezed his hand, though your grip was far from reassuring. Johnny’s brows furrowed for just a moment, a flash of concern shooting across his features as he registered your weak grip. “Easy now, hen,” he cooed, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Easy.”

You fell back into the pillows, exhaustion sweeping through your body once more.

“Aight lovie,” Simon murmured. “Time to rest. We’ll be back in the morning, first thing.” He pressed a kiss to your lips, his fingers grazing your cheek for a moment. He was relieved to see your skin felt cool to his touch.

Your murmured an agreement, your eyelids dragging heavy, fluttering shut against your will. Johnny gave your hand a final squeeze before pressing a kiss of his own to your lips, and one more to your forehead. “I love you,” he whispered into the darkness as Simon clicked off the small lamp at your table side. You were already dozing off by the time they approached the door once more.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #john mactavish #soap x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x soap x reader #task force 141 #uhhhhh more tags tomorrow #I’m so done #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #ghoap x reader #simon x Johnny x reader #simon Riley x John mactavish #cod fanfic #ghost x soap #soap ghost #soapghost

[dangerkittenclaws]

plight of pandora

johnny x simon x reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: violence, body trauma/blood, seizure, brain injury, memory loss, eventual poly smut - MDNI +18, swearing

a/n: planning to make this multiple parts! this is my first real fanfic so please be nice but constructive! if i forgot a warning or you have a correction, let a hoe know! ok enjoy, i am screaming, going to hit post now!

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Gaz was running from around the corner of the hallway to your seemingly lifeless body on the cement floor. He’s on his knees, quickly checking your neck for a pulse. Thank god.

“Gaz, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed through the com in your ear, unlistening.

“‘M fine. She’s down but breathing. I’m bringing her back. All clear.” Gaz’ voice trembles a little, pushing through.

 He looks down to you, his best friend, a bullet hole through your gear, torn through your abdomen, blood soaking around you. Your arm is bleeding. Your shirt, skin and the muscle of your bicep were sliced into by the knife an enemy had tried to kill you with before you shot him. He lies dead a few feet away. Your face is turned to the side, eyes closed, sweaty remnants on your temples from the intense fight. 

Gaz doesn’t hear Price’s response, too focused on taking the status of you in. 

“Lovey, I’m gonna pick you up, okay? You’re gonna be alright,” he hopes aloud. 

He slides his arms under your knees and around your shoulders and lifts. He makes sure the wound is nearest his body, the more pressure on it, the better. He’s done this before. You’re not the tiniest thing, nearly pure muscle for your body type, but no issue for him. He’s been running on adrenaline since he saw you go down in front of him before he got blindsided with his own round of enemies. 

He makes his way back out of the building, tracking back to the safe house where he knew your two lovers were going insane with worry about you. Would they trust him with you again? He needed to keep you safe and he failed. What would Price say? What verbal whipping would Johnny give him? God, what would Simon do? He didn't want to think about it. He keeps trekking through the streets until he sees a porch light on. 

You come to sometime in the midst, you’re not really sure when. Gaz is carrying you, you think? Your midsection is white hot with pain, regretting any tensing muscle. You can barely make a coherent thought, much less any word come out of your mouth. You end up letting out a loud gasp followed by a tearless sob instead. 

This is your first time getting injured out in the field. You had gone through 7 years of training and service without getting shot, but today was your lucky day. The 141 had looked over your file multiple times; the top of your class, excelled in nearly all physical and mental training, had worked your way up quite quickly with the brains and endurance to back it up. 

You don’t catch Gaz looking back down at you with wide eyes as he starts to murmur reassurances to you, “I know, lovey. I’m sorry. We’re almost there. We’ll get you fixed up.”

What hadn’t occurred to you was that your head had hit the solid cement beneath you, rattling your brain mere seconds after your body fell limp and ichor started flowing out of you. The last combatant had gotten ahold of you briefly, his knife slipping as you threw your weight backwards against him. You turned on your feet, pointing your gun at his head, but didn’t fire quickly enough before he fired his pistol right against your vest first.

Your eyes squinted shut even in the barely there evening light of the desert. Your head was spinning, too many thoughts and not enough at the same time. You try to focus through the searing pain and cloudiness in your thoughts. What had happened?

It’s too much. Your world goes dark.

Simon is the first Gaz sees come through the door of the small one story house. It looks decently well kept considering its near nowhere. Johnny is hot on his heels.

“What happened, Gaz?” 

“What were ye thinking, Panda?”

Gaz keeps his pace towards the door, trying to get you inside as quickly as possible. 

He looks to his side to report, “We got separated. We thought there was only ten in the building, there was double that. They came out of nowhere; cornered her and backed me out. I-“ 

He has to take a breath as he recounts the mission. Price is standing in the living room listening, motioning to put you on the couch, the table full and ready with medical supplies. 

“I heard her around the corner. She needed me to back her up and I couldn’t. If that bitch would’ve gotten her throat-“ Gaz nearly chokes. Johnny put his hand on his shoulder.

“But she didn’t let ‘em. She’ll be ‘right.” Johnny tries, his hands shook instead of his voice.

“I’m so sorry.” Gaz looks at you. His shoulders finally slouch with his head hanging. 

Price hadn’t said a word and got to work, getting the round out of your guts without damaging any other vital organs. 

Simon was already knelt down beside the couch and took your arm in his burly hands. He reached for the alcohol pads and the field sewing kit. It was a wonder he was so good at stitching considering the size of him. Within a few minutes your inner muscle tissue was no longer airing out in the open, closed by one of your boyfriends. 

The sewing kit is passed to Price once he had gotten the split shell out of you with a clink to the table.

Gaz is stuck, looking at your blood quickly turning the beige couch a deep red. Johnny tugs on Gaz’ straps to urge him to take his gear off. 

Unfortunately for you, the unconsciousness of your brain injury had worn off, forcing you back to life. You woke with your eyes dazed and brows drawn in a grimace. Simon looks down to you.

Price is the first to speak from further down, “Welcome back sweet girl. Quite a mess you've made here.” he tries to be lighthearted.

You don't quite understand. Tears start to come and fall over the brim of your eyes, your brain feels like it's been split into two, much less the hot swelling in your belly. 

“Hurts,” you cry, lifting your non-injured arm over your head, trying to block the pain inside of your brain from the outside.

“Panda, look at me baby.” Simon asks with desperation.

You turn your neck towards the voice, unknowing of who is talking. 

“Hm?” You feel fingers drag along your cheeks, wiping tears as they go. Air burns when you breathe.

“Do you know where you are?” Simon asks, noticing the look of confusion crossing your face.

“Shit, her pupils r’dilated.”

“What…?” you manage. Your eyes keep unfocusing no matter how hard you strain.

Simon tries to stay level, “You’re at the safe house. You and Gaz were out clearing that building. You got shot, babygirl. Do you remember that?” 

His hand was rubbing over the back of yours. More frustrated tears roll. You're uncomfortable now. You wrack your brain for information that's vanished.

Soap comes from behind the couch, leaning over you. He’s pretty. 

“Bonnie, you remember my name, love?” 

“Johnny?” you squeak out, feeling embarrassed.

“Good girl. What's his name?” he points next to you.

“I…I don’t….” You feel like you’ve betrayed him somehow. He looks at you concerned, the edge of his mask up and stretched over his nose. His lips look soft.

The room suddenly feels like a spinning ship at sea. Your eyelids contend with your brain. You start to panic, not having control over your body. A whimper comes from your throat. Your eyes roll back to nothingness. Help.

Price swears, hands immediately going to your tense hips to turn you on your side. 

Simon holds your head gently, to try to comfort you or him, he doesn't know.

Gaz watches in near silence as your body convulses in front of him. He could have prevented this. Now look.

Johnny’s eyes couldn't leave your body, watching like you would a train crash. 

You eventually still.

“Babygirl? Panda, open your eyes for me.” Simon almost demands.

You hear his voice far away. Your eyes flutter for what seems like too long. You fight your way to consciousness once again and see wide, brown eyes staring at you.

“Price, Medevac’s landed a block away.”

Taglist: @ohworm-writes, @bjornthebearguy

#dangerkittenclaws #johnny soap mactaish #simon ghost riley #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon x johnny x reader #call of duty fanfic

[1-ker0sene-1]

Poly 141 x Reader

Home is where you are

"What ye think she made this time?"

Johnny mumbles, dropping his head back against the seat behind him. Blinking tiredly up at the ceiling of the truck, a daydream clear in his eyes. Simon next to him stares out the window, sweat seems to practically seal his balaclava to his face.

"We'd be lucky if anything. It's three in the fucking morning.."

Kyle says from the passenger seat. Pursing his lips a bit.

"She should be sleeping.."

Price chuckles from the driver's seat, hand on the steering wheel, paying close attention to the road.

"She knows we're on our way home. If she made something. We'll be thankful."

His other hand is resting on Kyle's knee, his thumb rubs slow circles against him.

Simons foot taps on the floor of the car silently, brows tight together. The man just wants to go home, shower, eat whatever heaven you cooked and sink into that california king mattress. With all of you, all five of you together.

"Steaks."

He mutters.

"Hm?"

Johnny questions with a hum, Simon clarifies.

"On days we come home.. it's either steak or shepherds pie. She made shepherds pie last time so it's gonna be steak."

They all salivate at the damn thought.

"It's tha little things with ye huh Simon?"

Johnny smiles warmly, leaning on his shoulder.

It was another thirty minutes driving before they finally pulled into the secluded driveway. Their safehouse. Their home. Where you are. Filing out of the truck, bags over their shoulders. Covered in grime and dried blood, they didn't even let themselves clean up at base before going home to you. Walking forward, Simon slings an arm around Kyle's shoulder. Tucking the sargeant into his side as they walk to the house. Both Johns walking behind them, Price giving the younger a good slap on the back.

"Home, boys. Let's enjoy it while we can."

Price comes forward to unlock the front door, pushing it open for the four of them. Mumbling out a reminder to take off their shoes inside. Leaning down with a grunt to pull off his boots. The others doing the same. They can already smell what you're cooking, Simon was right. The smell of steaks is pretty clear, garlic butter, some kind of steamed vegetables and spices.

The house is clean. Warm. Low lighting, some candles lit. Everything about it screams home. John opens his mouth to call out for you, but he can feel his spine practically melt hearing you hum in the kitchen.

Johnny is the first stumbling forward, hopping on one leg as he throws off his remaining shoe. Eager to get back to you. Grinning as he comes around the corner into the kitchen. He melts. Seeing you there, in your chair dishing up their plates of dinner.

".. Hey lass.."

He mumbles, feeling like all the air left his chest.

You turn your head when you hear him, the brightest smile spreads across your face. Tossing the fork down from your hand as you turn towards him.

"Hey soldier-"

You beam. You don't even get another word in before Johnny rushes towards you, you let out a puff of air as he crashes into you. Laughing against him as he squeezes you to his chest, his face buried in your hair.

"Fuckin' missed ye hen.."

He whispers. You return with one of your own.

"I know baby.. I missed you too.."

You lift your head, kissing the scar on his chin.

"This bloke botherin' you love?"

You already know that voice immediately, smiling as you turn to look at Kyle. Who is quick at your side with Johnny, his hand cups the back of your head. Pressing a long kiss to your cheek. Taking a deep inhale of your scent through his nose. You smile warmly, your hand finds his bicep, giving a soft squeeze.

"There you are Kyle.."

You murmur, turning your head to press your own kisses across the bridge of his nose.

"Always here."

He chirps, kissing on your skin. His eyes bore into you, drinking you up. Johnny huffs, mumbling something about stealing all your attention. Earning a small tug on his mowhawk from you.

"Alright you two- showers. The both of you. You need it-"

You chuckle, giving them both a hug. Giving Johnny one more kiss on the jaw. Letting Gaz get one more kiss on your face. Watching them head past you down the hall to the bathroom. Kissing on eachother, bumping into walls. You shake your head at them with a smile.

Eyes flicking back to the entrance. You find Simon staring at you, his shoulders slack and sinking. Eyes half lidded and tired. The rest of his face under the balaclava. Your eyes soften, holding out your hand to him.

"Oh Si.."

He takes the invitation. Coming over to you. He would tower over you in height. But instead he falls to one knee in front of your chair. Hands resting on the arm rests of your chair. Your hands immediately cradle his head. Leaning forward to press your head to his.

"You're home.. it's alright now .. no more Lieutenant.."

You whisper against him. Your fingertips lift the edge of the balaclava, pulling it over the nape of his neck. Over the back of his head, nails dragging soothingly up his scalp as you take the fabric away. Making him shiver in vulnerability. Putting his mask aside on the counter.

Seeing your Simons face eases the both of you, cupping his jaw and lifting his head.

"I know doll.. I know."

He mutters, you kiss his temple. Caressing his skin. Threading your fingers into his hair.

"Go shower with the boys sweetheart.. I'll be in there soon."

You coo at him. He chuckles deeply, kissing your head between your brows as he gets up. Bumping your foreheads together one more time before walking to the bathroom.

"You're not gonna say hello to me John?"

You joke, turning your head to watch said Captain. Who was holding his hat in hand, leaning against the wall watching you. He's been watching you the whole time.

"Just seein' you with our boys darlin'.."

Pushing away from the wall he walks over to you. His eyes full of exhaustion, longing, warmth. Tossing his hat on the counter behind you. He leans down, callous hands hold your cheeks. Bringing your lips to his.

He's not as sneaky as he thinks. You know of his little demand to the boys. He's the first to kiss you. Each time they come home.

You kiss him back feverishly, as much as you've been calm and steady for them. You missed your men like hell. Your hands find his shoulders, squeezing them tightly, beginning to work on the knots of tension in them. Emitting a deep groan from John into your mouth. You smile against his lips, feeling the scratch off his beard.

"Everyone's alright?"

You whisper against him. He nods, his hands finding your hips. Slightly lifting you from your chair and towards himself.

"No one's broken. .. Kyle's a little stressed. Y'know how he is.."

You nod, eyes still closed, continuing to brush your lips together.

"And you?"

"Just tired.. But I'm home. That's what matters."

John mumbles, kissing you deep again. Dipping his tongue past your lips, a soft sigh slipping out of you. Arms pulling him closer.

"Taking good care of our boys John.. You always do.. Making sure you all come home to me again... Our strong Captain.."

You can feel him sinking at your praise. The older mans knees want to buckle at your voice.

"Let's get you in the shower baby.. Hm? Get you washed and relaxed.."

You mumble against him.

You yelp as your lifted into the air by his arms, laughing openly as he carries you like a bride. Burying his nose to the crook of your neck. Carrying you down the hall, to the bathroom door. Where you can already hear the chatter of the men in the shower waiting for the two of you. John is grumbling against your skin.

"We need you darlin'. "

"Our boys and I need you bad.."

#disabled reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #poly 141 x reader #taskforce 141 x reader #simon ghost x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader #captain john price x reader

[crestapex]

Price: What kind of girl do you prefer?

Ghost: My wife.

Price: Now what kind of girl do you prefer?

Soap: Ghost’s wife.

#gaz in the background knowing ghost is standing right behind him: 😦 #tempted to write a ghost x reader x soap smut fic #incorrect quotes #call of duty #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost mw3 #ghost x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap mw3 #soap x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price #my posts

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

#angst #simon riley x gn reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley angst #cod mw2 fic #cod x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #141!reader #ghost x gn reader #gn!reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost cod #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kyle garrick #john mactavish #mw2 141 #captain price

[shotmrmiller]

I havent a wrinkle in this brain of mine for plot, so have some porn without plot instead :)

Maybe it's because Johnny has you blindfolded, but he feels different. He's heavier on top of you and feels a bit bigger inside of you. It stings more than usual when he finally pushes his cock into your sopping cunt, swollen and tender from the four orgasms he took from you with his mouth alone. Your inner thighs burn as they stretch wider around his thick waist. When his lips meet yours, as your tongues entwine, he tastes of bourbon. He's quiet too, which is very different from the usual filth he whispers into your ear.

But when he starts rocking his hips, all thought fades, along with the ache in between your legs. His thrusts are long, pulling out until only the tip of his cock remains inside. Then he pushes forward steadily until he's pressed firmly against the entrance of your womb— making you wince slightly at the pinch. He does this tirelessly until obscene squelches emit from your cunt, that pinch deep inside of you turning into spine-tingling bliss. Your skin erupts in goosebumps when his head nudges against your sweet spot, a loud moan falling from your lips. He mutedly chuckles, his chest vibrating against sweat-slick breasts and the coarseness of his chest hair grazing your hardened nipples only heightens your pleasure.

You feel him move away from you until his cock slips out, only to vigorously grab at your hips and pull you to him. Your upper body rests on the bed, while he sits on his haunches and keeps your legs spread with his thick thighs as he slowly pushes back inside. But this time, it's not all the way. Oh, no. You know exactly what's about to happen.

"Wait-" but he doesn't. He fixedly keeps you in place at the angle he wants, the angle you need, and moves. His thrusts turn staccato— short, quick jabs— and he's hitting your spot, the one that has you going cross-eyed behind the blindfold. Your mouth is slightly open, drooling at the corner of it as you're rendered helpless against his onslaught.

The fire in your stomach blazes, every snap of his hips pushes you closer to the edge, the coil within you tightening, your body tensing. You can hear him spit— can feel a warm glob of liquid land on your mons, and dribble down to your aching, neglected clit. His thumb collects the saliva and swirls your bud under the pad of his calloused thumb rigidly.

Your spine arches off the mattress so sharply it pops as you climax, a choked scream ripping out of your throat. Your nails dig into the delicate skin of his wrists, no doubt leaving behind red welts. He doesn't stop the stimulation on your clit, his hips never falter in rhythm as he prolongs your mind-numbing pleasure.

Body going limp in his hands, you hiss in oversensitivity and swat at his hands. "Ow, love-" but he cuts you off with a searing kiss before flipping you on your knees, and to the edge of the lofty bed. You're rising to your hands when his big, rough palm pushes you down— his intent clear. With your chest on the bed, he sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke and the angle he goes in with is nothing short of devastating.

If you hadn't been wailing, you would've heard the deep, guttural noise that escaped his mouth. You can feel him in your sternum, replacing the air in your lungs. He swiftly picks up his left leg, positions it on the bed next to you, and sets a merciless pace. The force behind his thrusts rattles your very bones, leaves you breathless. You can feel the meat of your arse ripple with every slap of his hips— can feel the bruises forming in your skin under his hands.

You lift your hand to feel where he's splitting you open, fingers encasing his cock, he stiffens— swells painfully inside of you then he's coming with a snarl. His Cock twitches as it spurts his essence into you, stuffing you full and then some because you can feel his cum trickle down your legs. You try to lift yourself with quivering arms but again, you're manhandled and flipped onto your back, a squawk of indignation silenced with an all-consuming kiss. His lips move against yours feverishly, as if he's committing your taste to memory.

He finally relents, pulling away but you hold him in place with your hands cupping his face and murmur an 'I love you'. The only response you get is one you feel, as he tips his head in a nod, and then presses a kiss into your sweaty temple before moving away.

Later, when you and Johnny are in the shower, you notice that there isn't a single scratch on his wrists even though you definitely dug your nails into him. And that reminds you.

"Johnny?"

"Aye, bonnie?"

"Since when do you drink bourbon?"

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish smut #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x you #drabble

[witchthewriter]

Gaz: I sleep with a knife under my pillow.

Soap: Weak. I sleep with a gun.

Y/N: You’re both pathetic

Soap: What do YOU sleep with?

Y/N: Simon.

#incorrect quotes #incorrect cod quotes #cod #call of duty #gaz #soap #call of duty incorrect quotes #headcanons #witchthewriter #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #incorrect call of duty quotes #witch the writer's incorrect quotes #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mw3 #call of duty mwii #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw22 #simon riley x y/n