#He didn't need you out in the heat Ghost he's got Gaz

[ghouljams]

I’m in a mood for cowboy! Ghost. How would Goose react if Ghost is super sick but is trying to still do his work? Would she go Mama Bear on him and force him to stay in bed while she took care of him? How would he react to someone being this attentive and caring to him while he is sick?

The problem is that Ghost is so used to toughing it out or taking care of himself that he will not tell Goose if he's sick. I think she'd know pretty quick though when he won't touch her because he doesn't wanna get her sick. No doctor Goose necessary, Momma Duck is one with the medical degree.

Simon is in the barn when you finally find him, he's been avoiding you since he left the house this morning and you're not really sure why. He's leaned against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed, you can see the movement of his chest with each breath he takes. That's probably not good. You run through your options and settle on not being mad until he explains what's wrong. You grab his dog tags, because you know he won't risk breaking them. He sighs hard.

"Not in the mood sweetheart," He tells you, his voice is thicker than usual, too rough and deep for this late in the day.

"What's wrong with you?" You cut straight to the point. Simon doesn't even flinch, just pushes off the wall to stare you down.

"Nothing is wrong with me," It's too defensive, you narrow your eyes at him. He's not wearing his mask, it must've been real fucking uncomfortable for him to take it off. His cheeks are flushed, but not in a sunburn kind of way. You tug his tags and he resists your pull. Doesn't matter you can reach from here.

You raise a hand and press it against his forehead. Simon flinches away. Stupid bastard.

"Does daddy know you're sick?" You ask, not feeling particularly kind for asking in the first place. He should've told you.

"Doesn't need to, it won't affect my work."

"Bullshit it's not," You don't bother letting go of his chain, leading Simon out of the barn and back across the grass to his little house, "It's 100 degrees out and you're runnin' a fever, you plannin' on faintin'? You get any redder and I'll enter you in a tomato contest, swear to God I'm gonna kill ya' for this."

"You get more Texan when you're mad," Simon helpfully supplies. You don't bother turning to glare at him, you think he can feel it. He holds the screen door for you while you angrily push the house door open, more cooperative than you thought he'd be. Probably fixing to run back to work as soon as you leave. As if you would.

You don't let go of Simon until you see him sit on the bed. Even then you stand and tap your foot until he sighs and lays down like it's the hardest thing in the world. You give him a short nod and go to the bathroom for a thermometer and some cold meds. He's sat up and yanking his boots off when you come back. At least that's something. You hold out the thermometer and he takes it, but doesn't move past that.

"Under your tongue genius," You tell him already tipping purple nyquil into the little plastic cap. He eyes the cold medicine suspiciously. You set the full cap and the open bottle on the bedside table, and pull your phone out. "Either I take your temperature or Momma does, and you don't want me callin' the doctor out here."

Simon sticks the thermometer under his tongue. You don't know what it is with military men being so scared of the doctor, but it's damn useful for getting your way. You both wait for the thing to beep, you're quick to snatch it before Simon can. You're pretty sure he'll lie to you about his fever. You suck in a breath staring at the temperature on the little screen. 101, not good, and probably not helped by the heat or working all day.

"Wasn't that bad this morning," Simon grumbles. You don't spare him your glare this time.

"You-" You actually don't have an end to that sentence that doesn't make it sound like you want to strangle him. You point at the nyquil cap instead. He takes it dutifully and downs it like a shot. "I'm callin' the doctor." You tell him, because you can't really punish him for being sick, but you don't have to reward him either.

"Do not call the doctor," He warns you.

"Fine," You relent, Simon relaxes a little, "I'll call daddy." The tension is immediately back.

"Goose," Oh he's serious calling you that, too bad you're serious too, already dialing up your dad, "I'm warning you, do not." You hold the phone to your ear with a hand on your hip and wait for your father to pick up.

You don't even wait for him to ask you why you're calling you start right into it. "Simon's sick and you've been workin' him all-" Simon makes a grab for your phone while you're talking, you give a quick shout and try to hold it out of his way. He may be bigger than you but that doesn't mean he's going to stop you. Simon grabs your arm and pulls it down, you have to put real strength into keeping your phone held aloft.

"I'm fine, you don't need to call," Simon grits out, going for the more effective tactic of simply grabbing you around the waist and bodily hauling you onto the bed.

"How are you still this strong when you've got a fucking fever," You yell, trying to claw away from him. Simon just drags you back and snatches your phone.

"All fine here, sir," He tells Price quickly, keeping you pinned down with a firm hand on your back and your legs between his. He hangs up before Price can say anything and tosses your phone onto the nightstand. "Can you be less of a bloody wife for ten fucking minutes," He growls at you.

"Can you be less of a fucking soldier?" You hook your legs behind his and push up to reverse your positions. You settle angrily on his lap, and flop back on top of him.

"Forgot you could do that," Is the only response you get, half mumbled as Simon drags a hand down his face.

"Could've had a lovely day of me playing housewife, but no, it's always gotta be the hard way with you," You grumble, you hope the nyquil knocks him out before you do. You feel yourself raise with Simon's intake of breath, and lower quickly as he sighs. His hands grab you and flip you onto your stomach, you make yourself comfortable on him. He feels warm even though his clothes, you frown and press your ear to his chest to listen to his heart beat.

"You like the hard way." You can feel the rumble of his voice against your cheek.

"Not for this," you mumble, "you should've told me you weren't feeling good."

"I know," Simon sighs again.

"You'd wanna know if I was sick," Simon hums in response, you think the cold meds might be kicking in. You reach up to pat his face, "Stay awake I'm not done nagging."

"The fuck did you drug me for then?" He settles a hand on your head, the other rubbing your back with slower and slower motions. You suppose that's fair. "I'll tell ya' next time, alright? Lemme sleep."

"Fine," You relent, even though you don't fully believe him. You sort of wish Simon was a big baby about being sick, but you're also sort of glad he isn't. You wait for him to fall asleep before you get up to see if there's any soup in his little kitchenette. You expect he'll be out for a few hours, which is plenty of time for you to worry over him. Plenty of time for you to call your dad and tell him Simon's taking a sick day tomorrow, and plenty of time for you to sit on the bed next to Simon and brush his hair out of his face. He's such a soldier sometimes.

As if you wouldn't want to take care of him in sickness and in health.

#simon ghost riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x oc #simon riley x oc #oc: goose #cowboy!ghost #being sick means being vulnerable and being vulnerable is very hard #even if you're literally marrying this person #Get it together Ghost you're being stupid #Price is so mad at Ghost for working with a fever #He didn't need you out in the heat Ghost he's got Gaz #and Gaz is more than capable of cattle wrangling

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about a reader who is a people-pleaser. who is so eager to please in bed. who needs to be needed. like you just can't quite get your head into your own pleasure unless you know he's enjoying himself. maybe part of it is that you want to feel wanted and to be what he wants.

you breathe into his ear, asking if he likes this, if this is what he wants; you need to know he's enjoying himself.

it's a good idea or it's a bad idea. depending.

nsfw ↓

GHOST senses the implicit question underneath immediately. you don't need to ask again. he's so equipped for a praise kink. you've shown him your weak point and goes for it, even if you yourself aren't totally aware of it. sinks his claws in and no lol you are never getting away. 

"course i like this," he murmurs, voice all gravel. "nowhere i'd rather be than inside you. you like this too?"

"yeah."

"like it when i talk to you? when i tell you how sexy you are like this? how tight you are?"

you clamp down on him in an involuntary response. he groans, then chuckles.

there is no sweeter place than right here between your thighs. he keeps talking, praise slipping out of his mouth while he watches you bunch and writhe, you squeezing him with your legs and your pussy, fitting him like you've got everything to offer him-- he dissolves into low, heated curses when you clamp down around him again and cum at his praise. you're done for. he'll never stop now.

GAZ is craftier about it. he'd never take advantage of you, darling, of course not. ignore how his voice dips, smooths, laces itself with authority, silk hiding steel. ignore the funny way his words seem suddenly smug. it flutters in your gut the way sees the power you're giving him and takes it with both hands--wields it like he's rescuing you from yourself. 

"of course i like this. now don't think so hard, sweet thing. let me handle it for you." 

he would never abuse his power over you, of course not, not even when he's edged you for so long tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you're begging him, and his eyes darken. voice soft, veiled, his murmuring hiding something you can't detect under the need he's stoking in you. 

he doesn't release you until you've told him what you want. this isn't just about him, he chides; he wants to know what you want. he wants to please you. but somehow, the lust in his eyes when you're begging him for release--to do what only he can do for you--somehow that's the only thing on your mind when you finally cum.

SOAP is pure id. you want to know what he likes? if he likes this? he'll tell you, yeah, he likes it, and the way you double down on riding him makes him want to cum then and there. it's not just the way you feel. it's the look on your face, the tension on your body, like you have something to prove. you're fighting your goddamn demons just bouncing on his dick. 

it makes him worse. he doesn't manipulate you. it's not like that. but you asked, aye? you wanted to know, didn't you? wanted to know what he likes, what makes him feel good, and soap wants to try everything. more than that, he wants to see you try everything. he wants to see the look in your eyes when he overstimulates you, when he puts you on your knees and pushes his boot against your cunt, making you ride it as you suck him off. he wants to blindfold you, cuff you, get you prone and under him in every possible sense and push you to your limit. all he has to do is reassure you that he's abso-fuckin-lutely enjoying this, hen. enjoying that fucked-out look in your eyes, that look of surprise on your face when you find something new that gets you off, that look he becomes most fond of--the "fuck, this just woke something in me" look. he fucking loves pulling orgasms from you that you never expected to have. and you're doing such a good job, aren't you? you're working so hard. 

he lavishes the praise on you. it takes no time at all for you to start responding to his praise even when it's clear he's turned on by just how depraved you're willing to be for his enjoyment. 

"you'd do anything for me, wouldn't ya?"

it makes him so goddamn hard when all you can do is affirm, half-babbling, wanting more praise. all he has to do is reassure you that he likes this. and he does. he really does.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

#mine #snippet #poly 141 #cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost cod #soap cod #simon riley #ghost riley #soap smut #soap x reader smut #gaz smut #gaz x reader smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader smut #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you

[tacticaldiary]

Can you write something about Simon being a little to rough with reader and they end up having bad bruises so they hide it from Simon and when he finds out he goes a little crazy and won’t touch them until reader snaps and tells him they need his touch

Painless Bruises

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It really wasn't a massive deal, but she knows Simon would withdraw if he saw the evidence he left behind on her.

Masterlist

It's almost as if the day had a personal grudge against her, bringing along the hottest day of the year the one time she has to wear something unsuitable for the weather.

She itches the skin of her neck that's not covered by her black turtleneck, the long sleeves of the shirt sticking uncomfortably to her skin as she runs laps around the training centre.

Bruises.

Hand shaped bruises circle her forearms, a deep set shade of purple, and a particularly nasty one lines her collarbone, just under the juncture of the slope of her shoulder.

Thankfully she can blame the heat that creeps up her face at the thought of how she got them on the intense cardio they were doing. They were set to be dropped off in Serbia for a mission in 6 days, so the 141 was busy preparing for clearing their physical evaluations before they were dispatched.

Skin against lips, and the rustling of sheets last night. Simon had just gotten back from a solo mission somewhere up north and they hadn't seen each other in over a fortnight. Needless to say, when they did get a moment alone in his room last night things had gotten a little more intense than usual.

Rough, calloused hands held her arms in place, heavy breaths and feelings that could not be put into words exchanged under the light of the moon. She hadn't minded his grip, it had just surprised her. Simon was not a gentle person by any means, rough around the edges and as standoffish as the definition could get, but he had never been harsh enough with her for the evidence to linger into the daylight.

When she'd woken up the next day, catching sight of her arms, guilt pooled in her gut. She didn't mind it, it's not like they hurt particularly bad, but she knew if Simon saw them he'd withdraw.

It was an instinctual feeling, but she knows she's right. Simon had...a difficult past, one he rarely shared with her but she'd heard enough to know that he'd never want to hurt the people he loved.

She was afraid that bruises inflicted by him, especially ones as ugly as these, would make him blank and pull away, or even worse: treat her like she's fragile.

She didn't want a gentle Simon, she wanted him in all his brash, rough glory.

"Come on Gaz, the lass is running circles around you!" Soap heckles as she passes him by. She can't help but stifle a snort when she hears Gaz yell back an insult, a good few paces behind her. Ghost was standing next to Soap, watching the pair finish their last lap. His eyes follow her, bore into her as she passes. Him staring quietly is nothing new, but she can feel the questions from his gaze from halfway across the room.

She'd slipped out of his room before he'd woken up, and had forgone meeting him in the mess hall for breakfast to figure out how exactly she was going to hide the marks from him.

Slowing down after her last lap, she plops down on the ground with a sigh, gulps down the water bottle Soap pushes in her hands, the cool water a nice reprieve from the sweltering heat and sweat. Going to tug her turtleneck away to let some air hit her throat, her fingers freeze on the fabric when she feels Ghost's gaze on her again. Slowly lowering her hand, she clears her throat and turns her attention to Soap and Gaz bickering.

"You've got a big mouth for someone who can't outrun me either, MacTavish." She snickers, making Gaz grin.

"We're both in second place, mate." The man laughs, clapping Soap on the shoulder before offering a hand to pull her up. She accepts gratefully, feeling her legs burn pleasantly from the exercise.

She doesn't anticipate Gaz grabbing her forearm to pull her up. He grips right over her bruises and tugs her to her feet. It's just her luck that she can't manage to swallow down the strangled, muffled sound of pain in the back of her throat.

"You alright there?" Gaz lets go of her, brows furrowing. Ghost seems to have moved closer, ever the silent person.

"Fine." She swallow, her arm stinging. "Just...got a stitch in my side." Waving off the grimace Soap gives her, she's about to move on, ask if any of them would want to hit the bar with her after this, when a gruff, low voice speaks up.

"Roll them up."

She blinks, her stomach twisting as she turns to look at her Lieutenant.

"I'm fine, Ghost-"

"I didn't ask." He cuts her off. "If you're injured, better to get it fixed than ignore it."

"Good thing I'm not injured then." She offers him a smile. The other two boys glance at each other.

"Sergeant." There's a sense of finality in his tone, from which she knows it's an order. Meeting his eyes, she silently pleads with him to change his mind, a staring contest with a brick wall. Resigning herself to her fate, she relents, taking a deep breath and gingerly rolling up her sleeves to her elbows.

The sharp hitch of Simon's breath is only apparent to her after months of leaning the tiny quirks of his body.

"Steamin' Jesus, how'd you mangle that up so bad?" Soap exclaims, grabbing her hand and turning it this way and that. Gaz whistled low, eyes narrowing.

"That's some nasty bruising " Gaz frowns. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." She snatches back her arm, shoving her sleeves back down. "Not as bad as it looks, trust me." Avoiding Simon's gaze is harder than it's ever been, but she chances a split second peek at his expression.

His eyes are the only part of his face visible, but they've always been the most expressive part of him if one knows his quirks. Right now? Right now Simon has the same look he sported when that building came down on Soap after one of his explosions malfunctioned from being rigged incorrectly.

Upset and muted horror. She can tell his brows are knitted tight under his mask, his jaw clenched because he knows.

"Medbay, now." Is all Ghost says, a hand on her shoulder leading her away from the group. Her protests fall on deaf ears as they exit the room, the others not questioning their Lieutenant.

The walk down the hallway is suffocating, and Simon's grip immediately retracts once they're outside. He takes a left down the hall and she hesitantly follows.

The medbay is to the right.

The barracks are secluded this time of the day, everyone out and about, so it's the perfect place to have this discussion. Not that she wanted to have it in the first place...

"Want to explain why you didn't tell me?" Is the first thing he says. He sounds angry, and only the most seasoned of his partners would recognise the edge of concern in his voice. "You think hiding something like that was a good idea?"

"I wasn't hiding it, I just-"

"Bullshit. I hurt you." He states, a flash of pain quicker than she can catch in his eyes. "Why didn't you say?"

"Because it's fine, Simon!" She exclaims, grabbing his arms, hoping he understands. "You didn't hurt me, we just...got a little carried away. It's alright, they don't hurt bad."

"I was too rough with you." A slightly strained voice that tugs at her heart. "Fuck, I'm sorry." The apology spilled out of his mouth unprompted, and for a moment she's left shocked because he's the last person to apologise for something unless absolutely necessary.

Which means he really believes he did something terrible.

"I forgive you." She says immediately. "There, problem solved, right?"

"No, that's not how this shit works." Simon clutches onto the back of his neck, agitated at himself. "I didn't...fuck, I didn't mean to..." Something dawns on him and he meets her eyes with a newfound sense of dread. "Where else?"

Her pause is enough to give him his answer.

"Show me." He demands.

"Simon-"

"Take it off." He tugs at the bottom of her shirt. His fingers never brush against her skin.

Taking a deep breath and seeing no way out of this, she lets her shoulder sag and concedes, shrugging off the turtleneck and leaving her in a short sleeved undershirt. His eyes snap to the bruising on her collarbone, his jaw tightening.

"Don't apologise again." She says when he opens his mouth to talk. "I'm not fucking fragile, Simon. I can take a hit or two, this is nothing."

It's the wrong thing to say, the worst thing to say judging by the way Simon instantly recoils, taking a step back at her words.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. Never." He says quietly.

Ghost is a silent person. His footsteps never detected, melting in the shadows and slitting throats before anyone realises he's even there.

But he's not quiet. Never quiet. Never with her, at least.

"I know." She soothes, moving to close the distance but pausing when he shakes his head. "I worded that badly..."

"I wouldn't...I'm not-"

"You're nothing like your father." She states, pulling the words out to lay out for the both of them. "I trust you, Simon. I trust you every day with my life on the field, and my heart in our bedroom." She gestures to her bruises. "I don't blame you for any of this. The both of us were too occupied to pay attention to be considerate and hell, I liked it."

At his skeptical look, she continues on. "If it makes you feel better, the day you lay a hand on me is the day I beat your ass into the ground."

"I'd let you." He says gruffly, straightening up slowly.

Gently, he takes her hand, turning it over to bare her forearms. Gently brushing a thumb over the purple and blue, his eyes flicker to her face to scan for any discomfort. When he finds none, he directs his gaze back to the bruising, his mind somewhere else.

She lets him have a few moments of silence, knowing full well that this wouldn't be the end of this.

"I'm sorry." He says again, gently brushing his fingers over her collarbone. "Won't happen again, love."

                                · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Their quick, secret touches throughout the day had always sparked her to life.

Whether that be a gentle brush of their arms while they walked down the hall, or a quick squeeze of a shoulder after a harsh day of training. Inconspicuous touches that carried more meaning to them that met the eye.

She can count on one hand how many times Simon has touched her over the past three days, even if four of her fingers were blown off.

It's frustrating. Always busy, never standing within the length to reach out and touch, always out of his room when she'd knocked and peered in at night. He'd redirect her whenever she tried to initiate anything, even a friendly hug. Once he'd legitimately stepped away from her, and she's not going to lie, but it stung a little.

Needless to say, she was itching to corner him.

As she waits outside the meeting room where he currently is with Price, she thinks about how she knew this would happen. She knew he'd withdraw and refuse to be near enough to touch her properly, and it's driving her up the wall because godammit she misses him.

He knows he's fucked the second he walks out, pinned with a glare that promises consequences if he doesn't follow her. With a quiet sigh, he trails behind her until they're in her room, the door clicking shut behind them.

"Did you need something, love?"

"Funny you should ask." She deadpans. "You drive me insane sometimes, you know that Simon Riley?"

It's a little funny how he straightens up with the use of his full name, more at attention. She'd have poked fun at him in she hadn't been as angry.

"Do you think I'm fragile, Simon?" She snaps. "That I'll break if you breathe on me? You've been practically ignoring me for three days, pulling away. Walking away." When she strides closer to him, he doesn't move back. "And I swear to all that is holy, if you don't stop with this bullshit, I'm going to well and truly snap."

A pause.

"Well, someone sounds desperate." The poor attempt at deflection makes her even angrier. She grabs his hands, guides them to her shoulders and squeezes hard. He lets her, watching quietly.

Quiet. God, she hates it when he's quiet.

"Touch me. Just...you won't hurt me, Simon." She sighs at the feeling of his hands on her, burning even through her shirt. "You know you won't, you're just afraid."

"Not afraid." He grunts, curling his fingers around her shoulder, something she considers a small win. She can feel his hands twitch with the desire to abandon his self control and pull her closer. It almost makes her smile to think the distance is impacting him just as much.

"Then what?"

"Just...wary."

"Well stop it, then." She huffs. "I need you, Simon. I can't go about my day knowing that my damn boyfriend won't touch me because he think I'm fine china."

"You're one of the best soldiers." He rolls his eyes. "You and I both know you're anything but breakable."

"Then quit acting like a selfless asshole and-" She cuts herself off with a gasp when his hands slide to her waist, pulling her into his body. Warm and all encompassing, her blood sings at the contact after so long.

"This is what you wanted?" He hums, finally conceding. She shivers, feeling his chest rumble under her cheek.

"Yes." She sighs. "See, wasn't so hard, was it?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, the both of them taking a second to settle back down into their skins, feeling the familiar press of dips and curves pressed against each other. She rests her cheek against his chest, hands coming up to grab onto his back.

"I'm alright, Simon." She whispers. "We're both okay."

His grip tightening around her like it usually does is the only answer she needs, the press of his lips onto her head through his mask making her sigh contentedly.

This.

This was more than okay.

Requests Are Open!

(03/07/2023)

#fanfiction #ghost call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 ghost #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #modern warfare price #modern warfare fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare x reader #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod modern warfare #modern warfare ii #modern warfare imagine #modern warfare fluff #x reader #x y/n #modern warfare 2 #cod mw22

[princeguri66]

Back on my affectionate reader bullshit because I just want to smother those assholes with love.

TF 141 x Male! Reader

Kissing the homies goodnight.

18+ Minors DNI!

Cw: whole lotta fluff, it only gets suggestive at the end and that's it

It started with a joke. Gaz drunkenly saying "Hey, if I win will you give me a goodnight kiss?" Before you start a game of cards, you all laughed it off then. Until it starts getting later in the evening and when you excuse yourself to go to bed Soap calls out to you with a chuckle, "Ey, don't forget about Gaz's kiss" you trudge your way back to them eyes drooping. They all expect you to kick Soap or something akin to that, but you surprise them by leaning down and placing a kiss on Gaz's eyebrow before tiredly muttering a "goodnight" and walking away.

And if that didn't give them any ideas..

For the next week it was usually Soap and Gaz pestering you about your kisses being rewards.

"If I shoot all the targets will you give me a kiss?"

"If I beat him in this fight will you give me a kiss?"

It gives them such a boost of energy.

You don't expect anyone else other than them to ask you for one until you're watching a game on the telly with Ghost. "If my team wins, I want a reward like them" He says to you, referencing Soap and Gaz and you nod albeit a bit shocked.

And by a stroke of luck his team wins, you reward him with a kiss to his temple.

And when it comes to Price.. 

It occurred after a tough but successful mission, and it was all thanks to you. What you had to handle was rough but you still came back with minimal injuries.

After a quick check up and shower you head to the common room on base to lounge with your team, but when you just stepped in the area Price got himself up from the couch claiming he needs to get back to work. 

As he passed you he said a quick "Good job out there lad." And held you by your shoulder to pull you close and kiss you right on your cheek before walking away leaving you stunned.

The team saw it all of course, sitting still a bit stunned as well, seemed like your habit of kissing your homies rubbed off on the captain.

You were too focused on the lingering feeling of Price's beard scratching your face that you didn't hear Soap saying how that it's so unfair, how he also had a successful mission but didn't get a kiss from their dear captain, only realizing you've been standing there like an idiot this whole time when Soap ran past you trying to catch up with the captain to claim his well deserved prize.

And it just evolves from there, everyone gives each other kisses. 

It started off as conglatutory kisses like before, then it'll go to "kiss it better" kisses

(Like if Ghost trained so hard he gets bloody knuckles Price will kiss them better, or if Soap suffered an injury Gaz would be there to kiss his bandages, or if Gaz just had a rough day and is incredibly stressed you'd kiss his temple)

Then eventually everytime any of you are about to leave for a mission you all give a kiss to whoever's going for good luck, and when they come back it's those pushing mouth aggressively to cheek kisses happy that they came back alive and well.

And it goes to the point where any chance you get you'll exchange small kisses. Passing each other in the hall way? A kiss to the cheek. Finding each other in the kitchen late at night to grab a drink? A kiss on the forehead. One of you had a brutal nightmare? Boom, get kissed on your damn head, hell why not cuddle while you're at it? (You did cuddle while you're at it)

It doesn't take long for the kisses to trail closer to the lips, for the kisses to trail to your neck and collarbones as well. It doesn't take long for it to evolve from small pecks to heated make out sessions, desperate to feel each other's mouths even deeper. It doesn't take long for the five of you to end up swapping spit late at night, sloppily making out with whoever's mouth is open and wanting, stripping each other's clothes even with your mouth occupied.

After that it's no question to kiss the homies goodnight, hell it usually ends with more than a kiss.

#cod #call of duty #cod x male reader #tf 141 x reader #cod mw2 x male reader #john price x reader #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #john price x male reader #price x reader #price x male reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #soap x male reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x male reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x male reader #gaz x male reader #gaz x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 x reader #if you saw me post the unfinished draft no you didn't #sorry if it's written weirdly #guri thirsts #guri writes #poly 141

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: All you needed was to contain the aphrodisiac, make an antidote just in case, and go home. But working with the 141 was never that simple, and now you and Ghost would find out how it worked. Up close and personal.

Content Tags: Vague kidnapping near the beginning, Sex Pollen, Smut, PiV Sex, Fingering, Fuck or Die, Mild Dubious Consent (consent is gained after pollen gets inhaled), No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: Honest to god, I've been trying to write a story based on this thought alone. I can't even get it started but maybe this will get me. There also needs to be more Omegaverse written for COD, there can be some interesting stuff from it. Lmk if you want more of this, i'm exhausted <3 (p.s. I've changed the summary like, 10 times and idk how to feel about it)

Next, Headcannons, Masterlist

"Gaz, are we clear to enter?" Ghost asked into the comms. Gaz had gone into the building first, alongside Soap, to clear out the path you and Ghost would take. It was almost a straight shot, it felt too easy to get to the weapon you were there for. Maple Syrup, they had called it, even though it was an airborne weapon. You could hear a few shouts of a language, it sounded Russian but you weren't entirely sure, but you didn't have long to dwell on it as they stopped with a few gunshots.

Another few grunts came through before Gaz finally responded. "We're all clear in here, we still need to sweep a few rooms closer to Docs target, but you should be good to enter," he answered. Ghost nodded at you and led the way in, gun resting on his shoulder as he looked every which way. You knew it was a safety precaution, but you trusted Gaz.

You always trusted easily, it was in your nature. You were an Omega, and having trust in the people meant to protect you felt natural. You trusted your pack, even if you hadn't been a part of it for too long.

Maybe you shouldn't trust as easily.

Ghost shoved you into the wall next to you and started firing, bullets whistling past your ears as you ducked low. It reeked of sex, of Alphas and Omegas in heat or rut. Even through the military grade suppressant you could smell it, and it hurt. Ghost ducked around the corner, more gunshots echoing before a grunt came from him, and you heard the sound of a body dropping.

You didn't think before rounding that corner, seeing Ghost on the ground unmoving shook you. You ran your hands over him to feel for blood, but you couldn't see or feel anything. By the time you got to his shoulders, you found a needle trapped between his vest and arm, right in the meaty part of his inner-most shoulder. You plucked it off of him without thinking, tossing it to the side before pressing to feel for anything left inside.

You hadn't noticed the people advancing behind you, had ignored the calling from the comms or footsteps coming from the same direction Gaz and Soap were supposed to be in, but you felt the prick of the needle on your back. With a shout, you fell forwards, catching yourself from falling face first into the ground. You attempted to crawl forwards, get away from the men approaching from the back, but the medication they pumped into you caught up quicker than you could move.

It was with a groan that you sat up, swallowing thickly at the sickly sweet taste in your mouth. You tried wiping your face, but your hands moved slower than they felt, missing twice before wiping the area around your mouth. Pulling your hand back, a thin, dark red coating came back on them. You blinked hard, trying to remember what you had come here for.

The Maple Syrup mist. You couldn't remember much else about it, your mind moving at about the same speed as the namesake for the pollen-like substance. It was airborne. You knew that. There was something especially dangerous about it that a lot of the countries who knew about it wanted it gone. You were hired to make sure that no matter what happened, there was an anti-dote for it.

Something like that.

You blinked back into it when the door to wherever you were creaked open. You glanced up slowly, blinking at the men who entered and grabbed you, speaking loudly at you. What were they talking about? It wasn't Russian, you hadn't been in Russia or near any of their allies when you'd been grabbed.

You wouldn't understand it, your mind was moving at half the speed they were dragging you at. A few twists and turns, some scattered conversation floating around, and being dropped twice was what it took for you to be tossed into a similar room as your first. You laid face first on the ground, the cold helping to clear your head slightly.

Small cramps started in your back, twinging you every few seconds. A voice came over a loudspeaker, whatever they were saying it was something they were very pleased with. You turned, slowly, onto your back before crawling backwards to lean onto the wall behind you.

Maple Syrup. What the hell about it was so important they sent the 141 after it? Something something, military grade suppressants. The suppressants. Maple Syrup could break through military grade suppressants. You groaned, the cramps moving through your back and into your stomach. You could feel the heat, all-encompassing, starting to wash over you.

A loud, long creak echoed from the area to your left, and your head dropped to your shoulder as you turned it to look at the wall. A scent came wafting from the slowly opening crack in the wall, growing headier as the walls fully opened up. It was musky, with leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder you often smelled back on base. It made your mouth water.

The groan from the corner directly next to you startled you back into the present. As your eyes adjusted to the new lighting between the two rooms, a dark shape became clearer in the corner. A skull mask was lying tossed a few meters from it, and as your vision cleared up more, you could tell it was Ghost.

His head hardly moved as his eyes found yours, staring through you from beneath the balaclava.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" He grumbled, deep in his throat.

"Dosed with Maple Syrup," you whispered back, and his head fell back down between his legs.

A short, harsh sound came from him, it had to be a laugh, "then what's gonna happen to us?"

"When was your last natural rut?" You looked at him, licking your dried lips. You could see his head move sharply from your peripheral, his eyes flittering up and down. He shook his head, another dry laugh coming from him.

"It's that bad?" You nodded. "Probably since I took my last, longer leave. I think it was four or five years ago, but I don't remember," you blinked slowly. The levels of androstenone in him would be high, especially without a rut to keep him leveled, and the Maple Syrup would only force him to produce more. Too much, and he'd die of something. Whether it would be heat stroke, or dehydration you had no idea.

"If you don't pop a knot or two, you'll die. Heat stroke, maybe dehydration, but you'll die. I don't know the exact amount of androstenone inside of you, but if it gets too high you could be forced into a feral rut," you glanced over at him, his eyes scrunched shut, a low groan coming from his throat. He glanced back up to you, his eyes softened and fear started to lace his scent.

Ghost shook his head. "If I go feral, I'll kill you. I can't, Doc, I don't wanna kill you," his voice grew more strained as his sentence wore on.

"I'll be fine," you gave him a soft smile. "I'm going to go into heat, and if I don't get a knot, I'll die. I don't know if the weapon shit is able to counteract the birth control part of the suppressants, but I don't feel good. I need you to fuck me, Ghost," you whispered the last part. He shook his head. "You have my permission, so it's up to you to act," you swallowed again, eyes shutting as sweat beaded down your neck.

It was getting hot. Too hot, and you could feel your slick pooling and soaking through your pants. You could smell it, and you knew he could smell it. You could hear the panting breaths he took, the grunts he let out. A long, low growl came from him and his heavy steps inched closer to you.

Ghost grabbed you by the back of your neck, shoving you forward into the ground and scenting your throat deeply. He tore at the neck of your shirt, ripping it to let him get more of your scent. He licked a long line, sucking into the base of your neck softly as his teeth grazed along it.

He stuffed his fingers under your pants and panties, leaving you whining as two of his fingers brushed past your clit and buried into you. Even feral, the Alpha was trying to take care of you. They curled and pressed against you, leaving you writhing under him as you whined for more.

Pleasure blossomed in your abdomen, the heel of his hand grazing against your clit with each pump his fingers made, leaving you throbbing around his fingers. Ghost was able to get one more finger in you, nosing up your neck before sucking a dark hickey into your neck, teeth grazing along your neck and nipping you here and there, soothing it with a lick.

He tugged his fingers out of you, dragging your pants and panties down before shoving his down as well. He rutted his cock against your folds, soaking himself in your slick before sliding inside of you. A long, loud moan tore out of your throat as he kept sliding further and further into you, bottoming out with a growl from him.

Writhing against him with your mouth hanging open, he dragged himself out of you before rutting back in. Your nails scratched against the floor beneath you, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit and Ghost against your back.

Licking and sucking at your scent gland, Ghost dragged his face against it and growling. You could feel him throb inside of you, heat flooding you with his cum. A long whine came from your throat, hips pushing back and out against him as his fingers found your clit, rubbing in soft but quick strokes. Heat shredded through your abdomen, sliding through the rest of your body as your orgasm tore through your body.

You could feel your clit pulse with each heartbeat, his fingers not waning from stroking it, shocks flowing through you with each stroke. You thought you could feel tears pouring down your face, mouth wide open as you groaned. Ghost pulled out, letting you drop to the ground on your stomach before he flipped you over, pulling your legs to his shoulders and rocking his cock back inside of you.

Dropping your head back, your mouth still gaped open as he filled you once more. You could feel his knot catching onto you each time he thrust, leaving you whining. Ghost dropped back down, mouthing at your scent gland once more, leaving his open for your own mouth.

Pushing his balaclava away from his gland, you took licks of his for yourself. He tasted good, so good, his scent flooding into your mouth, you had to pull back just enough so that you could breathe. He grunted with each thrust, his abdomen brushing against your clit with every other thrust, your legs pushed into your chest.

Each thrust left you whining for more, faster, harder even if he couldn't hear or understand you through the feral rut. You felt tears pooling in your eyes again, dripping down your face as you gasped with each thrust, cunt throbbing around him as his knot caught more and more with every thrust until he couldn't pull out anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a sharp, stinging pain radiate from your neck before it heated into what almost felt like agonizing pleasure.

It burned white hot and you clawed at his arms, hips bucking against his, which were just barely thrusting against you, trying to pump you full and pump deep.

When he finally released your neck, he let out a long groan as his own orgasm seemed to finally wash over him. Ghost let his head drop to your shoulder, his hips trying to thrust harder and you couldn't stop yourself from biting down on his own gland in turn.

It was hard to see the way his mouth dropped open under the balaclava and his eyes roll back, but from what you could see it left you moaning against his neck.

It took you a few minutes to come back to when you released his neck. All you could taste those few minutes was Ghost, nothing more. You had to gasp for actual oxygen as his taste nearly embedded itself in your mouth.

From the moment you released his neck, to the moment you became more aware of what was happening, he had adjusted you to sitting in his lap with his back against the wall. You could hear him talking, but your mind was gone. There wasn't pain, but you weren't entirely comfortable. Your neck was sore, and your cunt was still throbbing around him.

He nuzzled your neck, lapping at your now marked gland.

Ghost wasn't entirely sure what would happen, neither of you would be able to hide the marks and even so, he would have to report this. He figured it wouldn't matter, for now, he could wait to figure everything out until you got medevacked and taken care of. Price would know what to do, he always did.

Next

#smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x you #ghost smut #simon riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #sex pollen #fuck or die #no use of y/n #aphrodisiacs #dubious consent #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x reader smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare ii #reader insert #Kidnapping ngl #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #i literally watched 6 episodes of Batman while writing this #I think its been two and a half hours #I don't know what's happening anymore #Mentions of Gaz #Mentions of Soap #Mentions of Price #Maple Syrup

[nrdmssgs]

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Price, Ghost, Gaz)

Masterlist

Part 1 (Soap, Alex, Konig)

Captain John Price

Platonic

Won't mind, if his old friend takes a quick nap on his shoulder, as long as this old friend tolerates a cigar smoke.

If he was discussing something with the others, and you happened to fall asleep - he'll try to speak quieter to the point, where his low velvety voice turns into a full-fledged asmr session.

But if the talk grows heated and his low menacing rumble wakes you up accidentally - he'll just pull you back on his shoulder. "Sorry, darling, go back to sleep... Now back to you, you d**p sh*t!"

Will unconsciously fidget with your fingers, John can't help it: your skin is so soft - it calms him down to lightly massage and caress your hand while you are napping.

Price finds it endearing, how flustered you got, after you finally woke up and understood, how exactly have you been sleeping all this time. Once again, he has nothing against it, but he will gladly joke about it, just to see you blushing. "Of course, you can spend a considerable amount of money on this orthopedic pillow in the hope that it will help you start sleeping better. Or you can always call one of your old friends - it costs nothing..."

Romantic

John will have to fight the urge to scoop and cradle you, so that you lean against him with your full weigh, enjoying his warmth enveloping you.

Even if he has something to do - his attention will be concentrated on you. Your calm deep breaths, your fingers clasping on his shirt lightly - that is what Price consumes with his every his single fiber. Because after all, it's memories of those things that keep him alive and sane on the battlefield.

Will definitely kiss the top of your head, even if you two are not alone. Multiple times.

It's moments like these, when he remembers to take a pause, look outside the window, remember, that his war is not everything he has - there is life beyond it.

Expect to wake up with his hand on your head, fingers sinking into your hair, a warm smile blooming on his face as he notices you slowly opening your eyes. "Had a nice nap, my love? Now how about I take you somewhere, you could actually sleep properly?"

Simon Ghost Riley

(this one turned out more like a scenario, sorry)

Platonic

Ghost doesn't notice the weight of your head on his lap right away. He's seen you curl up on a bench next to where he was sitting, but you are so small and light in comparison to him, it's hard to register your head leaning against him.

He sits at the table and talks to someone, when it hits him: a strange warmth, spreading in all directions of his body from the place your cheek meet his lap.

Simon makes a little, almost unnoticeable, pause, breathes in and goes on talking.

There's a voice in the back of his head, telling him to find anything, that might resemble a pillow, for you to sleep on. It would be so much better, than his dusty jeans. And you definitely deserve something softer than his lap to rest on.

But there's nothing, that he could offer you right now to replace him. So he settles to sitting as still as he possibly could and covering the edge of the table with his hand in case you wake up and get up abruptly. Little gesture, showing how much he really cares for every squadmate, how much he values their trust.

Back on the base, you notice, some late training hours disappeared from your timetable. Your Lt may never comment on you briefly passing out on his lap, but he never forgot, you needed a bit more time to rest after the last mission.

Romantic

He might be reserved and distant with you in public. Nothing personal, just a professional attitude, a facade, if you want. But here, behind the closed doors of his room, he freezes the very next minute he hears your muffled mumbling as you drifted to sleep on his shoulder.

"Don't go. Not yet."

Simons' heart sinks. He wishes, he didn't know, what were you talking about in your sleep, but he knows. Even in your dreams, on the territory, where you can have anything, you've ever wished for - you ask only for him to stay.

In public, you are always ok with him going on missions without you. You are always collected, supportive and optimistic. But when no one is around, you let yourself cling to Ghost for a brief moment, clasp your fingers around his arm and wordlessly plead 'don't go, don't go, don't go, don't...'

As he brushes hair from your face, you slightly flinch, not waking up.

"Take me, not him."

Simon looks at your face, feeling guilt building up in his chest. He puts his work papers aside, scoops you up and carries you to his bed. There he cradles you, caressing your face till you stop mumbling, descending to deeper sleep.

You wake up the next morning alone, surrounded by his scent, as he left you his shirt. He always does that, when he leaves on a mission without you. Your gaze wanders around, till it stops on your arm. His handwriting, black pen ink, covering your skin. Never before has he done anything like this. You grab your phone and frantically make a few dozens of photos of the inscription, that he left on you. You already know, that you'll make it permanent.

The inscription says "On my way to you"

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Platonic

Kyle is actually the one to ask others to speak quieter, when he realizes, you've fallen asleep on his lap.

Will shoo away Soap, who is ready to attack you and Kyle with a myriad of 'so when's the wedding' jokes.

Gaz is also the one to actually make sure, that there is nothing hard in his pockets and that the no sharp edges of his tactical clothes touch your delicate skin. He is a very good, genuinely caring friend.

In fact, he will protect you from any person, threatening your sleep. He will even convince Ghost to come back to you with new intel or orders just a bit later, or give them to Gaz, so that he can tell you everything later.

If you work together - he will try to help you with paperwork, so that you have more time to sleep between trainings and missions.

Romantic

Kyle has that face of the happiest, most proud man out there. It's you, the one, he has been dreaming about for so long, feeling so relaxed next to him. Not only he has you - he can make you so content, you smile, while napping on his shoulder.

His eyes are glued to your face. Nothing else matters in this very moment. It's impossible to distract him with anything.

Covers you with his jacket, always makes sure that you are warm and comfortable in his hands.

Loves to surprise you with something small, every time it happens and you wake up on his shoulder. If you two were in the park - Gaz will carefully pick a flower and tuck it in your hair. If it happened in a coffee shop - he will quietly order your favorite cupcake and move the plate towards you.

Lives for that smiles appearing on your lips in first moments after you wake up. Peppers your face with kisses. "Morning, sunshine!" (says it even if it's almost midnight, and he is about to drag you to the bedroom in a few minutes)

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #captain price #captain john price #cod price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x you #ghost simon riley #kyle garrick #gaz mw2 #cod gaz #gaz x you #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #call of duty #price x reader #price mw2 #john price #ghost headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #gaz headcanons #price headcanons

[killmeprettypleasee]

Could I ask a smut like where m!reader is a high ranking than ghost and soap and in a relationship with the two when m!reader got a dare from gaz to be fake dead and which m!reader acts which quickly got info to ghost and soap which they think m!reader is dead. They are Hella sad which they see m!reader alright. They ask and m!reader says the truth.. which the two gave m!reader a "punishment"

✁__________________________________

Warning: threesome, double penetration ment, slight ment of breeding kink, punishment kink.

You've been dared by your friend Gaz for 20 bucks to prank both Ghost and Soap, you hesitate at first but the thought of seeing Both men all having a panic attack seeing you laying dead is hilarious, and weeelll.. 20 bucks is 20 bucks..

----------------

You laid on your bed, acting dead.

Good thing you were a great actor,, While you were laying there the door open slowly, a head peeping out to check on you.

"Heyyy, (Y/n)?"

Soap spoke out, walking in followed soon by Ghost.

They saw your limp form and scanned your body, they thought you were asleep and decided to shake you till you're awake,, but you didn't peeked an eye, so they shaked you harder.. but still.. no reaction.

And both turned nervous at you not waking up, tgeir nervousness soon turned to worry then fright.

They shaked you harder, testing your body temperature then pulses, It was all okay but why aren't you waking up???

They tried tickling you and went extreme by throwing you off the bed! But still.. no reaction.

Then, one last thing, Soap tried to check on your heat then..

"BOO!"

You screamed out causing Soap to jerk backwards in surprise and slight fear, You were sat up, staring at them with a cheeky grin on your face, moments ago you were laying "passed" out there and here you were, all well and okay...

"Hah! Did i scare you guys, because the look on your faces say otherwise!"

You were giggling gleefully while they just stared in confusion and slight anger for scaring them.. Ghost huffed out, Nose flaring out of anger.

They needed to teach you a lesson from scaring them like this.. and both agreed on this,, they look at each other before nodding.

Suddenly, You we're pinned down roughly by Soap on your wrist while Ghost ripped your pants, along your boxers.

Leaving you exposed to the cold wind in the room.

You protest out, yelling to them to stop to what they're doing but sadly, your words fell on deaf ears..

The Flipped you over causing you to be pressed against your chest to the ground, your ass was spread apart by Soap, your tight ring of flesh showing.

"Fuck.. look at that.."

Ghost breath out, taking in the sight of your little hole.

Then they began to stretch you on their fingers to make sure you take both of their cocks in you and aswell as making sureyou get bred well.

After that you were sat on Ghost's cock while soap's cock is Infront amd between your legs.

Then First Soap Thrusted in your slicked hole, and soon followed by Ghost, The stretch was big.. but you already got used to it after doing this with them.

Each thrust was powerful, making it sure you get to be discipline of respect..

Every time they piston into your ass sent you jolting forward the force causing you to cry and sob, letting out little cries for mercy.

You had came many times by now, your mind already dizzy from the harsh treatment caused by both Ghost and Soap, You laid limp in between their bodies while they try to get some air.

"You learned your lesson now?"

Ghost asked with a smug smirk on his face, and you nodded quickly in reply.

"good boy"

Soap gave you a pat on the head before he pulled out along side Ghost, cum dripped down your now loose hole making you cringe from the feeling.

Despite the harsh punishment that you probably couldn't walk anymore- 20 bucks is still 20 bucks though, right?

✁__________________________________

A/n: this was lazy so sorry if its bad, didn't add the reader being high ranked cus i got to lazy.

#x male reader #bottom male reader #cod x male reader #x sub male reader #x reader #cod x male reader smut #cod x reader #cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod x male reader #soap cod x male reader #call of duty x male reader

[eldritcmor]

IDEA!! You know how in most legends and myths involving dragons there’s often a hoard the dragon is protecting? What if the 141 was the hoard of someone (or something) not entirely human. They masquerade as a human and fight alongside the 141 but they’re insanely protective of them and have dragon like abilities. Heat and smoke never seem to bother them. Sometimes the 141 can see the shimmer of scales out of the corner of their eye but when they turn to check it out all they see is their “human” teammate. Maybe they have reptile like tendencies and prefer to have meals alone because they’re “insecure” about their eating habits (they’re actually eating nonhuman food like raw meat or something). Idk, I just really like the idea of the 141 being oblivious to a monster in their midst. Also I really REALLY like dragons

Gaz looked up as the sharp screech of twisting metal met his ears. The guard at his door poked his head out to see what was happening only to jerk and slump, a rather large piece of rebar right between his eyes. Gaz did not want to meet whatever the fuck did that and so scooted the chair he was tied to as far back into the shadows as he could. He tried to keep his breathing even but as the steady clomp of boots on metal grew closer, he couldn't cut it. A hand curled around the door frame and for a second, Gaz would forever swear he saw gleaming copper claws. He blinked and suddenly you were in front of him. Kneeling low as you confidently cut through the rope around his ankles.

"Breathe Sergeant. I got you." Gaz practically melted at the familiar rumble of your voice. He let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding as you moved to the bindings on his chest. Then he was confused.

"It's good to see you lieutenant, but how did you get here?"

You hummed as you finished cutting through his bindings and hauled Gaz to his feet. While there wasn't really any major damage that you could see, you still didn't like finding him like this.

"I called in a favor from an old friend. For all intents and purposes, this was never sanctioned. Now before you go thinking too hard, the others did try to come as well. Unfortunately, they got placed under the equivalent of house arrest by Shepherd. Now come on, our ride is waiting."

Gaz rolled the information over in his mind as you led him through the little facility. Everywhere he looked was some form of evidence of a fight. It looked like something had absolutely ripped through their defences.

--

Ghost startled as he entered the little kitchen of their current base. It was incredibly late at night and he hadn't expected anyone to be awake. You were sitting on the counter, ripped open package of red meat in one hand and a piece of meat midway to your mouth. Ghost raised an eyebrow and you slowly lowered the little chunk back into the tray.

"is this why you never eat with us?" Your fellow lieutenant asked as he grabbed a mug from one of the cupboards. You have a little noncommittal shrug as you set aside your dinner. Ghost popped the mug into the microwave and pulled out a few teabags.

"No need to stop on my account, lieutenant." The microwave beeped and ghost retrieved his mug before plopping the teabags in and promptly exiting the kitchen.

--

Soap raised an eyebrow as you stripped off your jacket and bundled it into your pack. The team was visiting Farah and the desert heat was harsh on all of them. Even Price had taken refuge under the nearest shade cloth. You however just seemed to be perfectly fine in the heat. He thought the heat was finally getting to you. That is until you climbed up on huge flat rock, laid in direct sunlight and promptly fell asleep. You were fucking basking while the rest of the team was baking in the sun. Soap stomped over, sun be damned, and climbed right up beside you. He purposely blocked the sun as he kneeled next to you and raised his hand to slap down in the dead center of your back. That is until your hand shot out and easily caught his wrist. You two briefly wrestled for a minute or two before soap yelped as you scooped him up over your shoulder and carried his ass back over to the others. Farah laughed as you deposited Soap right at Price's feet. A simple no left your mouth in a sort of grumbling growl as you went back to your rock. Soap pouted in the shade but didn't move to try again, as Price handed him a canteen of water.

--

Price watched from the door as you wrestled against Ghost, with Soap and Gaz sitting on the side. You two were dirty fucking fighters. Anytime Ghost flipped you on your back, you'd yank him by his mask or shirt to the side. Anytime you'd flip him on his back, he'd take his nails down any piece of exposed flesh in order to get you to rear back and topple. Price thought it was like watching two feral ass badgers fighting. He decided to intervene when Ghost pinned you and his fingers were just a hair too close to your mouth. Your fangs were on display.

"That's enough boys!" He watched in amusement as You and Ghost scrambled to your feet. "Go clean up, all of you. We got a briefing in twenty. Except you, Drake. I need to talk to you." The rest of the squad exited the training room. Price could practically feel the gossip spinning in their heads.

Price turned to you once the team was down the hall and out of earshot. "We need to talk about that little trip you took."

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. "Little trip, sir?"

"The one you took while the rest of us were under house arrest. The one where you somehow returned with the single missing member of this task force."

You simply hummed, a noncommittal sound, as you tapped your wrist. Price shook his head at your silent question. "Ah my most recent leave. What's the issue?"

Price sighed. "Unfortunately, the higher up want to know how Gaz returned." Price grabbed your shoulder and pulleed you down to his height. "You were not involved in anyway, clear?"

You groaned as the grip on your shoulder tightened. "Loud and clear, sir."

"Good man, now get. I'm sure the others are wondering what kind of ass chewing you just got." Price watched as you walked out the room, defeat lining your shoulders. Good, no need to trouble anyone else with your little rescue mission. Price glanced down at his hand. He hadn't meant to grab you that hard but he had to get the point across. There was a red lined imprint of scales in the center of his palm.

#call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #eld writes #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #simon ghost riley #taskforce 141 #captain john price #eldritch reader #monster reader #dragon reader

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 13 ⬅ch.12

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | nsfw. lil bit of 'dark' simon. wc 7.4k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | here we fucking go

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you tried your hardest to repress all of simon’s words to you from last night. the way he stopped you in the hallway, heightening all of your senses, dead set on telling you things he probably hadn’t told anyone in a long time… it was dangerous. it was leading you to believe he actually cared about you. that maybe this thing you fabricated between the two of you wasn’t all in your head after all. 

what did it mean if he was trying to let you in? 

you tried not to think back to the night at the bar, when simon had his fingers inside you. when he coaxed you to orgasm, his words melting in your ear, like he was just as desperate for you as you had become for him. 

and maybe he pushed you away because he didn't know how to let someone in that kind of way—and maybe what he was feeling scared him. then the image of the blonde woman he was talking to in the training room—him watching her attentively as she spoke—made you think of his fingers on her. it made your stomach twist into knots. you shut that thought down and instead tried to conjure the way he looked at you in the bar—when he said, i fuckin’ hate seeing you with other guys . well, apparently, you hated seeing him with other girls, too. 

a sudden flush warmed your cheeks as you strolled down the hall at base. except simon was a grown man—years older than you, even—so you weren’t going to put words in his mouth. if he wanted you to know how he felt, he’d tell you. you weren’t going to sit around and make things up in your head—playing around with all the what if’s.

and still, your mind wandered. it felt like you had no power in keeping him out of your mind and you hated it. you hated that you thought of him so often. you couldn’t help but think back to the other night in his room when he followed you into the bathroom and stared at you like he wanted to devour you whole. his body radiating so much heat, you felt yourself sweating standing before him. you remembered the way his lips twitched like he was dying to kiss you, acting like a starving man. 

your heart fluttered and you shook your head of your daydreams. you were off to find soap, who was hopefully in the training room, needing to feel confident in yourself again before you went on your next mission. and you needed him by your side to help you practice. 

it was weird how you had somehow weaseled your way into task force 141. you were swept away into the rush of combat, the adrenaline boost of being in the height of the action. sidelined with ghost, price, gaz, and soap. it not only made you swell with a bit of pride but made you nauseous at the thought of delving into something so crucial and vital. were you really cut out to be at the same level as these men?

you peered into the training room through the glass door and looked for soap. when you didn’t spot him, you used that as an excuse to hold off on your training exercises to go and seek him out… you couldn’t train alone … at least that’s what you told yourself. maybe you weren’t really ready to get back into the action and you were using this as an excuse to make yourself impertinent to the upcoming mission. maybe you’d get left behind. 

down at the motorpool—the large hangar where all the humvees and other military-grade vehicles were kept—you felt a cold breeze rustle through your hair through the open wall. you hustled down the metal stairs, scanning the large room, looking for a mohawked sergeant. 

your eyes perused a crowd of commotion and you maneuvered your way over to see what was going on. as you got closer, you realized it was a collective of new recruits. it was easy for it to slip your mind that a new wave of soldiers had been starting out this week. you hadn’t even thought to ask if that meant you’d be getting any new medics in the infirmary. 

they were likely getting lectured on safety protocols with all the tanks and militarized vehicles. bored with the swarm of newbies, you slid behind a humvee to go find soap, maybe he’d have some intel on divisions the recruits were being added to. 

a deep voice echoed behind you and made the hairs on your neck rise. you stopped in your tracks and peered around the vehicle, spotting a tall man with a skull balaclava on. ghost . 

you couldn’t help the nerves that filled your chest and stomach. were things going to be awkward with your next encounter? should you mention the intimate details he told you last night, or pretend like it never happened? 

as you pondered your unusual situation with your lieutenant, your heart stopped. ghost stood beside the blonde recruit you saw him with the other day in the gym. her hair was pulled back in a way that should be unflattering but somehow accentuated her beauty. she sported the same dull outfit as the rest of her peers and yet she wore it far better than you ever could. what made your eyes widen, however, was the way she looked up at ghost as another lieutenant was lecturing the group about something you tuned out, already accustomed to the military spiel. 

you watched in horror as she bumped him on the shoulder, laughing as she said something to him. why were you getting so jealous? simon wasn’t yours . if he wanted to flirt with the new recruit, he had every right—no matter how unethical, but that thought was just you being petty.

ghost looked down at her, hunched over slightly so his face was in line with hers, and mumbled something under his mask. your heart dropped at the proximity of their faces. 

you finally had enough, pissed at yourself for falling into a rabbit hole, thinking maybe he had grown to truly care about you. you turned back in your tracks and went to leave. ghost’s head snapped up at your abrupt movement, your boots on the hard ground echoing in the building at the lull in lecture. you refused to meet his eyes and raced back to the metal stairs and ran up them as fast as you could without falling. 

you’d find soap later. you didn’t want to see him right now. how could you let yourself get hurt by ghost again? johnny would think you so stupid—you said you were moving on, that it didn’t bother you anymore. but then, spotting him with another girl, it made you feel sick. 

you needed to get him out of your head for good. shouldn’t it be easy? he didn’t like you. he told you so himself. 

you hadn’t heard him coming, so when you made it back into the hallway, you yelped as two hands grabbed you and spun you around, pushing you up against the cement wall. 

the ugly fluorescent light stuttered, creating an eerie glow over ghost as he loomed above you, his hands still gripping your shoulders. 

“i can’t fuckin’ do this, anymore,” he growled out. the baritone of his voice sent a small wave of fear up your spine. you may have grown to like ghost, acquainted with his rough demeanor, but you couldn’t forget how intimidating he could truly be. 

you looked away from his gaze, your eyes watering. how stupid ghost must think you. to be incapable of a hookup—to be crying over him. he was a cold-hearted killer years older than you, and you really thought you stood a chance? he must think you beyond naive. maybe he’d finally get you kicked off his team—

he cut off your racing thoughts abruptly when he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. you heard him sigh as you let your eyes meet his, a tear sliding down your cheeks. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled. 

“stop apologizing.” you thought back to one of your first conversations with ghost, when he had yelled at you for being so soft—for apologizing so freely. he told you to stop then, too. 

you could feel the warmth from his gloveless fingers as he held your chin in place, almost like he was worried you’d look away the second he let go. his eyes flickered to your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom one with a gentle swipe. your lips parted at his touch before ghost dropped his hands back to his side. 

“m’not interested in her,” he said rather quietly. 

your eyes found his before dancing away and looking at your feet. you didn’t think you’ve ever felt so embarrassed before. getting jealous over your superior—who has made it clear he’s not interested—talking to another teammate?! “it’s fine,” you said shyly. “i’m sorry, you don’t have to explain yourself. i know that you—uhm—comforting me doesn’t mean we’re together. i don’t know why i—”

ghost’s hand on your chin cut you off for a second time. “look at me.”

you reluctantly did and he dropped his hand again, his fingers flexing. “m’not good for you.���

you blinked rapidly, tilting your head slightly. “what do you m—”

“for fuck’s sake,” he said a bit harshly. “you’re right. we’re not together . and yet i’ve already hurt ya more times than i’d like.” he had to bend his neck to look down at you as he spoke. he took a small step closer, entering your personal space in a way that made your head rush. “you deserve better than me. a better man.”

“ghost, i—”

“simon,” he corrected in a harsh, splitting tone. you felt your cheeks warm. simon shifted on his feet, his mask suddenly itchy and uncomfortable. “used t’like that callsign. reminded me of who i had become n’ why i was doin’ all this. but hearin’ you say m’name, my real name …” he cleared his throat. “reminded me of who i started out as. that m’human.” he paused. “i like hearin’ your voice say my name.”

your lips quirked up a little but quickly faded. simon watched your every movement, his heart racing just as it did on the battlefield. “i don’t understand.” your hands came up and ran through your hair. “i’m so confused. d-do you want me as a friend? or do want me to forget everything that’s happened between us and pretend like nothing happened between us? that’d probably be best, wouldn’t it?” you gave a strained laugh and simon’s eyes narrowed. “you’re my lieutenant and i'm just a medic.” you didn’t know if that last sentence was intended for you, or him. 

he wanted to tell you that you weren’t just a medic . he hated hearing the way you talked about yourself. 

you looked up at him with such fierce hope in your eyes, but he could see the sadness laced behind them. and all that sorrow had spurred from him. he caused that pain you were feeling. he was ruining you already. ruining such an innocent thing. that’s what he did, he was destructive. he tore things down. he should stop leading you on. he should hurt you so you’ll go back to hating him. so you can be just another one of his subordinates again. 

after a few beats of silence, you nodded. “okay,” you said softly, accepting that as his answer. your words were so faint that it hurt simon’s ears to hear your voice like that. 

this was it—the closure you needed. you developed a little crush. simon thought you attractive enough for one night of reprieve. you wanted more. he couldn’t give it to you. and he was telling you to move on from all the shit that happened between the two of you. to forget those nights he comforted you. to forget how much relief you felt when he was the first face you saw after being held hostage. 

you turned to walk away, your back to him. simon felt his heartache, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long fucking time. shit , this was only going to hurt you and him. but he wasn’t a good man. he wasn’t a better man. or a man you deserved. he’d only ruin you. he shouldn’t let himself. but he never claimed to be a good man.

ghost yanked his mask from his face, shoving it in his pocket. it took him only a few strides to catch up to you. he grabbed your arm and spun you around so you collided with his chest. he was done bullshitting around. in this moment, he decided he didn’t care about how this would be a disaster. he’d worry about that later.

“ what —?” you started, surprised. 

then his lips were on yours. 

his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto the tips of your toes as he kissed you deeper, starved for something only you could quench. 

you were hesitant before quickly matching his passion. your hands wrapped around his neck, encouraging his tall frame further down over you. you both stumbled as he backed you up against the wall of the abandoned hallway, his hands around your waist, forcing you into him.

he tasted like whiskey and mint and a little like something cataclysmic. something that would only hurt you with time. but you didn’t care. in that moment, the only thing you could think about was the way he felt against you. 

you had worked with ghost for over a month now, and you never imagined him as a romantic. you couldn’t picture him kissing a girlfriend or wife. or see him saying sweet nothings into his partner's ear. so with him filling all of your senses, his hands gently, but firmly, plastering you to him as he devoured you, the juxtaposition of it gave you butterflies. 

one of his hands escaped and slid up to cup your cheek, allowing him to deepen the kiss. you felt your breath get lost in your throat, his lips far more soft and warm than you would have imagined someone like his. 

“m’not good for you,” he mumbled between kisses. 

“i don’t care,” you said breathlessly. 

he pushed his body against yours in response, caging you in between him and the wall. you heard him groan in his throat. his hand slid against your skin where your shirt began to hike up, his fingertips leaving burn marks all over. 

he finally slowed, kissing you a few more times before actually pulling away. but his hands stayed locked around you. “don’t think i can handle losing you,” he said truthfully. 

your breath got lost the second you were able to look at his bare face. his rugged beauty made you want to weep. he was so gorgeous and you doubt he even knew it. 

“you won’t.”

he didn’t seem to like that answer. you didn't know that. but he did. he knew something was sure to come between the two of you, whether that was death or of his own destruction. 

his eyebrows furrowed as he studied you, his cheeks pinking and his lips swollen. before he had time to ruin this moment, you went onto the tips of your toes, feeling brazen as your hands clutched onto his jacket so you could kiss him again. your hands moved to wrap around his waist, softly scratching his back over his shirt. you heard him moan into the kiss and you subconsciously clenched your thighs. 

“ fuck ,” he mumbled against your lips, his slight stubble tickling you. “i want you so bad.”

your heart fluttered in your chest. your head was telling you to slow down—to stop and discuss things. to figure out what was happening between the two of you so you didn’t get burned again. 

but when you opened your lips to speak, all that came out was, “ prove it. ”

simon grunted, pulling back to look at you. if he was a smiling man, he would be grinning ear to ear. something wicked was spreading through him. “you don’t want a man like me,” he rasped.

“you don’t know what i want.”

he bent over and swept you up into his arms making you squeal. he clicked his tongue, “quiet, pet. don’t want the whole barracks to know, do ya?”

you shook your head, unable to speak for fear of stumbling over your words.

simon carried you swiftly back to his room, skillfully avoiding running into anyone, not even caring that he didn’t have his mask on. 

you made it to the confines of his room in record time. he was a man on a mission.

he kicked the door closed behind him and plopped you down onto your feet, his hand dragging against your body as he did. you swallowed hard, your hands gripping his jacket. 

you leaned into him tentatively, like you were asking permission. like you weren’t sure if he was going to push you away for being forward. that thought made simon angry, his hands tightening on you. 

he leaned over to meet your lips halfway. you moved in sync far slower than earlier, the two of you taking the time to soak in the moment. all of your worries about the upcoming mission, all of the things that kept you awake at night, were slowly sinking away. simon was absorbing it all. taking the pain so you could feel the relief.

and simon was never a kissing man. he didn’t really see the point. but he never wanted his lips to separate from yours. he felt your kiss all the way to his fucking toes.

he pushed you back so your knees hit his bed and you collapsed onto it. his hands rested on either side of your thighs on his mattress, his eyes burning holes through you. his eyelashes stood out, the blondeness of them stark against his charcoal face paint.

“m’not gonna be able t’stop once i start,” he said darkly. “so ya gotta tell me now if you don’t wanna do this.” 

he was holding himself back from wrecking you like he so desperately wanted. the number of times he had imagined this moment where he got you alone in his room, ready and willing, was sure to be astronomical by now. 

you gulped, his nose inches from yours as he waited for your answer. his fingers were begging to touch you, but he had to wait. he had to make sure you wanted this. that you wanted him like he wanted you.

“please. don’t stop,” you said, quietly.

simon growled low in his throat, his hands sliding up over your thighs. your lips parted as you watched him unbuckle your tactical pants. “lift your hips,” he commanded. you obliged and he heaved the clothing away from you, not in the right state of mind to take his time. he wanted you—no, he needed you—right this second. 

he tore your pants off of you along with your boots and then he was squeezing himself between your thighs, falling to the floor on his knees. 

“simon, what’re—“

his large hands hooked around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed, putting your legs on his shoulders. you felt shy all of a sudden. taken aback. you didn’t quite think he was going to do this… 

“relax, pet,” he cooed, his warm lips meeting the soft skin of your upper thigh. you bit your lip as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours. his eyes fluttered as he moved his lips on you. he kissed up to the apex of your thighs and then kissed you over your underwear. you gasped from the fiery contact. he chuckled, reveling in the way you were already panting before him.

he pushed your panties to the side and his lips were immediately on you, not wanting to tease you any longer purely because he couldn’t stand it. his mouth was on your core, kissing and sucking, his tongue dragging along you. your head fell back in pleasure, your hands finding his hair. 

he hummed against you, the obscene sounds his mouth was making rang in your ears.

he devoured you like a man who hadn’t eaten for days. and you were a buffet spread out for the taking. 

you felt his finger slide up and tease your entrance, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. you groaned.

simon was getting frustrated with the cloth that limited his access, so he hooked your panties in his hand and yanked. you gasped as the fabric ripped and he tossed it to the ground. he spoke when he saw your mouth open, “i’ll buy you more.”

his lips were attacking you before you had the chance to even reply. 

simon slid one of his digits inside of you, slowly filling you up. “ oh my god ,” you moaned. 

he began to move his finger in and out of you while he worked your clit with his mouth. his free hand wrapped around your thigh and splayed over your stomach to keep you from moving, rooting you in place while he coaxed you closer to your orgasm.

without warning, he slid a second finger inside you, making you squeal. “you taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbled to himself. he moved his fingers in and out of you and you fell back onto the bed, moaning at the way he was torturing you. “sound good, too.”

his fingers pumped inside you and he felt your walls squeezing him tight. “close?” he asked.

you nodded furiously, unable to speak a coherent word. he groaned against you like he was enjoying pleasuring you as much as you were.

then he slipped his fingers from you. you whined at the loss. “don’t worry, i’m gonna get you there. i just want you t’come on my tongue, baby,” he reassured. his mouth was on you again, his tongue darting in and out like his digits had been as if he was jealous of his own fingers. you didn’t even have time to process the pet name.

you fisted his bedsheets, your legs wrapping around him, your hips bucking up slightly. simon held you down as his mouth brought you to orgasm. you cried his name, “ ah –simon.” you tried to muffle the sound with your hand. 

simon let you ride out your high, his mouth never failing to move against you, bringing you to the brink of overstimulation. 

when you settled back down, completely out of breath, he came up and rested between your legs. “neva thought m’name could sound so good.” 

your face warmed, shy at his compliment. his mouth glistened with you and you had the urge to kiss him. he grinned, reading your face, and he brought his lips down and let you taste yourself.

it felt like you had a fever as you kissed him. you bucked your hips up into him without your permission and he groaned. you could feel his hard length straining in his pants, pushing against you.

“ jesus ,” he said breathlessly. 

your hands slid down his front and he turned to watch them as they trailed to his belt. before you could undo it he pushed back and stood up. he slid his jacket off, his eyes never breaking away from yours. next was his belt, the metal clinking something so sensual. then he pushed them down his legs, kicking off his boots too, and you could see how large he was in his tight boxers. you sat up, your legs hanging off the bed as you watched, entranced.

then he pulled his shirt from his body, exposing his toned chest. even though the lighting in his room wasn’t great, you could easily see all the scars that marred his torso, matching the ones that cut across his beautiful face, only managing to make him that much more haunting. he had a small smattering of hair on his chest that then trailed down beneath his boxers. your chest thrummed loudly in your ears.

your hands reached out and grabbed at his waistband, pulling him closer to you. even though you would never be strong enough to move him, he edged closer, letting you have your way. you looked up at him as your hand slid into his underwear, pulling him out. he groaned, his lips parting as you fisted him. you were still surprised with how bold you were acting. but the way his eyes had darkened, looking at you like a feral animal, gave you a confidence boost.

your eyes fluttered down and you marveled at him, a glistening of precum already pooling on his tip. and fucking hell, he was huge. you already knew he was from that drunken night, but being with him sober? you had no idea how he was going to fit inside you.

you stroked him a few times, prepared to bring your mouth down over him before he pushed you away. 

you looked up confused and his thumb brushed along your lower lip. “as much as i’d like t’feel your hand and mouth ‘round me. i won’t last.” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “and i need t’be inside you or it might kill me.” 

your heart raced at his dramatics. he grabbed you under your armpits and heaved you further back onto his bed. you sat and watched as he crawled up and over you. he pushed your legs apart to much of your resistance, suddenly feeling a wave of bashfulness. “don’t go shy on me now, pet.”

your stomach warmed as he bullied his way between your legs, settling himself on top of you like this was exactly where he belonged and you weren’t about to tell him otherwise. and he was far too heavy for you to move even if you tried. his hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt and tear it up over your head. he groaned as he looked at your chest. he seemed too impatient to properly unhook your bra so he simply tugged it down. your nipples hardened for him. and simon couldn’t stop himself, he leaned down and sucked on one of your tits, his other hand palming your other breast.

your back arched into him as his soft lips teased your nipple. his other hand kneaded your breast, making a chill ride up your spine. you helped him out and undid your bra, tossing it to the side. his tongue swirled around you and you finally broke. “simon, please . i need you.”

and if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard in his sorry excuse of a life. 

he didn’t deserve to have you begging for him like that. but he didn’t care. he rose from your chest and gazed down at you, his hand running through your hair, admiring the glow your skin was emitting from the fevor. 

“you deserve to be fucked good n’ slow,” his words guttural. “but i need ya too fuckin’ badly, pet.”

you didn’t care about any of that. you wanted him to know he didn’t have to be gentle with you. you reached down between your bodies and gripped his cock in your hand, making his hips jerk forward. “then take me,” you whispered. 

“shit,” he cursed, his cock throbbing painfully against you. “don’t have a condom.” simon didn’t ever keep condoms in his room at base. he didn’t have a habit of sleeping with subordinates. when he slept with women, it was back home. 

you helped line him up with your entrance, your body heady with anticipation. he breathed your name. “it’s fine,” you urged.

“s’not. we shouldn’t—“

“simon, please.” you looked up at him through your lashes. a piece of you felt like if you two didn’t fuck right this second, it was never going to happen. and you wanted him more than you had ever wanted any other man in your life. 

“y’sure?” he knew he wasn’t going to say no when you asked him, looking so pretty sprawled beneath him. he wasn’t as strong as he thought. 

you nodded and slid your hands up to wrap around simon’s back as he took charge, taking his cock in his hand and pushing his tip into you without wasting time. 

you both groaned in sync. he edged into you ever so slowly. and even with your previous orgasm loosening you up to him, it was still a tight fit. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. 

“m’i hurtin’ you?”

your eyes fluttered open to a concerned simon, his eyes darting between yours, trying to get a read on you. “y’gotta tell me if i’m hurtin’ ya.”

“you’re not hurting me,” you said, breathlessly. 

“hm, jus’ a bit too big for ya, then?” he rasped. he chuckled at the way you went shy at his words even though his cock was currently edging inside you—but it was his words that made you blush. “you can take it,” he cooed. 

he pushed into you further, and you mewled in your throat at the intrusion. your body tried to push him out, making simon groan into your neck. “so. fuckin’. tight,” he managed to get out. 

you buried your face in his neck while he was buried in your hair, both of you trying to compose yourselves as simon forced his way into you. “simon,” you groaned, making his hips jerk, sending his length further into you in a way that was almost painful.

“gotta stop sayin’ my name, princess. or i won’t be able to do this slowly,” he said through strained breaths.

princess . you felt your heart swoon at hearing something so devastatingly sweet coming out in his husky baritone. 

you nodded and his hand slid up and fisted your hair. 

it took another full minute for him to slowly push his way inside of you. your legs were wrapped around his waist, pressing against him as tightly as you could, bracing yourself for the small sharp spurts of pain. “m’sorry,” he muttered into your ear. he knew it hurt you. he could see it on your face that the way he stretched you out was uncomfortable. but bloody fucking hell , he couldn’t stop. 

“s’okay,” you slurred. 

your hips bucked up weakly when simon adjusted his position. you both groaned at the movement. your clit brushed against him, sending a bolt of pleasure through your core. “please. move, now.” 

he was big, and even with you so wet, he still teetered the line of being too large for you. but you could handle it. you just needed to get past this part so you could fully enjoy it. 

he held himself up on his arms and he slowly dragged his cock out of you, only going halfway, before pushing back into you with decent resistance. “ah,” you cried. 

“need me t’stop?” he asked you, though he prayed you’d say no. 

you shook your head and spoke a bit breathlessly. “no. keep going. please.” 

he furrowed his brows but did as you said. 

he pulled out halfway again before pushing back in. this time he groaned deep in his throat, the way your walls squeezed him was almost too much. 

he slowly pulled out again, except now he did all the way. and when he thrusted back into you, you yelped. he tried to restrain himself, but his mind was turning to mush. he began at a steady thrusting rhythm, trying to go slow, but on the brink of completely breaking and succumbing to his desires.

after a few strokes, your body adjusted and allowed him to move a little more easily. 

and it began to feel good. really good. you wondered if it would feel this good if simon was any other man. or if this was so mind-numbing because of how desperate you were for him.

simon grunted, repeatedly in your ear just as you imagined he would. he wasn’t usually very vocal in bed, didn’t see the need. he thought it was all just theatrics. but he couldn’t stop himself from letting sounds pour from his mouth. you felt that good.

“m’not gonna last— oh, fuck— long.”

your nails dug into his marred back, neither of you caring about how much pressure you were putting on him. to be honest, he didn’t even care if you drew blood—if anything, he might have preferred it. he wanted to know you were enjoying this just as ardently as he was. 

simon reached around him to grab one of your hands that currently had a death grip on his back and interlaced your fingers before pushing your interlocked hands onto the mattress. you squeezed his hand tightly, an orgasm brewing inside you.

“god,” you mewled, letting out little whimpers every time he bottomed out.

“sound s’pretty f’me, pet,” he said through gritted teeth.

his other hand reached down to your thigh and pulled your leg further up, hooking his hand behind your knee, so he could hit you deeper. you gasped at the position shift, his cock in as deep as it could possibly go. his hand held your thigh so tightly you worried he might leave bruises.

“i’m so close,” you babbled. your free hand slid to the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his short hair. he loved the way it felt.

simon looked down at you, marveling at how fast you were reaching your climax, just as he was. he liked the notion that he was doing this to you.

his makeup smudged down his face from the perspiration, his pale lashes standing out against the dark. your heart raced looking at him. he was gorgeous. he caught your gaze and leaned down to kiss your lips—something that surprised him. he wasn’t a romantic. he didn’t even really like kissing. yet he couldn’t help himself when it came to you. 

you clenched around him and his lips parted, gasping and breathing heavily against your mouth. his hand that was currently around your leg left to pay attention between your thighs. he began circling your clit with his fingers. “want you t’come for me,” he said lowly. 

you mewled, his lips still grazing yours as you both tried to breathe. you spasmed around him and he shut his eyes briefly at the sensation. “ fuck .”

as he felt himself about to release, he had the urge to be looking at you. he opened his eyes and used one hand to grab your chin, making your face look directly at him. “don’t look away,” he commanded. 

you nodded, his hand reaching back down between your thighs. your legs began to shake, your walls impossibly tight as they clenched repeatedly around him. “bloody hell,” he moaned. 

you felt so good, he didn’t want to pull out. he wanted to feel this forever. and as you climaxed, he reached his high, his sounds primal, growling and grunting at an increasing speed with each of his frantic thrusts. 

his fingers continued to rub against you even as he pulled his cock out of you. but he was a little too late. he came just inside your entrance, then emptied himself all over your lower stomach. 

you cried out his name as he panted, his fingers never faltering, his other hand still gripped tightly around yours. “simon,” you breathed in a pained breath. “stop, please. s’too much.”

he slowed his finger movements and then pulled away completely. he sat back to look down at you. his hand slipping from yours. you lay sprawled on his bed, your legs parted for him, his waist nestled between them. his come was dripping from your cunt, your chest rising in rapid beats. “fuckin’ hell,” he couldn’t help but praise. you were a work of art. and he was going to fucking ruin you. 

then something feral came over him. he leaned down, his hands grabbing the tops of your thighs, keeping your legs from touching one another, and his tongue came out, licking you like he had earlier. “ah! what’re you— oh my go d—doing?” you asked, exasperated. 

“cleanin’ you up,” he said nonchalantly like this was the normal way men acted after sex instead of being repulsed by their own come, finding clarity after orgasming. 

you were so sensitive as he lapped at you, his tongue dancing over your clit and sucking at your labia gently at first. but then he went a little harder, on a new mission entirely. your legs squeezed around his head, caging him in, wanting to block the overwhelming sensation. you were starting to feel beyond overstimulated. 

“s-simon,” you stuttered, wanting him to stop, but not being able to get the words out. his tongue focused back on your clit, sucking and rubbing aggressively against you. and without even realizing it was possible, you orgasmed for a third time. you came around his mouth again as he ate you like you were the most delectable dessert he’d ever had. 

he let you ride out your high on his tongue before he pulled away and hovered over you. “ jesus ,” he groaned, looking at your messed-up hair and glowing face. 

his hand moved to brush against your lips, his thumb dragging over them before sliding to the side of your face and running through your hair. your eyes fluttered at the delicate touch. 

simon collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as yours was, as if he, too, just came again. 

the realization crashed down on you as you looked over at him. he felt your gaze and he rolled his head on the bed to meet your eyes. 

“i-i can do casual,” you said, your face heating. he quirked a brow in question. “i can be casual. you don’t have to worry about my feelings. i—”

“is that what you think this is?”

your eyes had a hard time staying locked with his. “was i not supposed to think… i thought you wanted…” your hands twirled around once another in nerves. 

simon rolled to his side, his arm extending over you protectively and caged you in. “there has never been anything casual about us.” his eyes flickered to your lips. he sighed. “i don’t want casual.” as much as he fought his desires for you, they were never casual. 

did that mean he wanted nothing at all? was this it? did he reach his end goal? getting into your pants? and now he wanted nothing more from you.

“oh,” you said crestfallen and a little embarrassed. 

“i want more than that,” he said through a struggled breath, as if this was foreign for him to say—at it likely was—but more importantly, he knew he shouldn’t be saying it. 

“as in…” you started. his hand came out to brush against your cheek. fucking hell, you never thought he could be so gentle. your eyes dropped to the scar on his lip. 

“ as in ,” he continued, “i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. i haven’t had a girlfriend since secondary school. and even that wasn’t serious.”

your eyes widened. “ girlfriend ?”

he rolled his eyes and fell back onto his pillow, running a hand through his hair. “i’m tellin’ you,” he said dragging out the words. “i want you to be mine . n’ only mine.” his voice got deeper all of a sudden thinking of the times he had thought you were with johnny. or when graves had complimented you and you smiled sweetly at him. he hated that jealous feeling he got. 

you waited a beat before sitting up completely. he watched you, his eyes focused. “are you going to ask me?”

he smirked, looking like a predator hunting its prey. “no.” he sat up too, grabbing his shirt from the floor and handing it to you to put on. “m’not askin’, pet. i’m tellin’ you. you’re mine.”

“and if i choose not to acknowledge that?” you were pushing him. while you liked the openness he was currently exuding, you also had something in your gut telling you he wasn’t good for you— look at his track record. how he’s treated you so far . 

“you’ll end up gettin’ me dishonorably discharged if y’do that.”

“how–”

“i’d have t’kill any man you let touch you.”

you laughed, but his face didn’t change. “you can’t be serious.”

“deadly.”

you should have had him grovel more for what he had said to you. for all the mean words. for the night in the bar when he told you you meant nothing to him. and now, all of a sudden, he thought he had claim over you. your lust was clogging your head, and now you were seeing clearly. 

“i don’t think that's fair.” you looked away from him, putting his shirt on and crawling out of his bed, looking for your pants. 

simon pulled his boxers back on and reached out to you before you could get too far. his calloused hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. if he decided to never let you go, you’d never be able to leave. you were nowhere near as strong as him. 

you turned slowly towards him. he sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes looking at his feet in thought, his arm extended to you. 

you took in a breath as you watched him, waiting for him to say or do something. “simon,” you finally said, softly.

he looked up at you, his usual cold demeanor covering his face, though it was almost more unsettling without his mask. “what d’you want from me?” 

you tilted your head. “what do i want from you?” 

he nodded, his hand still clutching yours. “i don’t know. i… i guess i never knew. you never really gave me time.” your free hand pulled at his shirt in nerves. “all i know, is i wanted you to like me. that’s how it started, at least,” you gave a mirthless, forced laugh. “and maybe i did develop a little crush,” you said, mimicking how he had said it. your cheeks grew hot, embarrassed to be saying this. you weren’t sure how words were embarrassing you when you just had his head between your legs, but that was beyond the point. “and then i thought you definitely hated me. probably thought i was a kiss-up. but at the bar… and you said…”

he sighed. “i know what i said.”

you rolled your eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. “so, i don’t know what i want, simon. i didn’t think this,” you gestured between the two of you, “was going to amount to… this.”

simon jerked you towards him and you had no choice but to stumble into him. his hand released you and instead, both of them slid up your leg and rested on the sides of your thighs as you stood between his open legs. “m’sorry.”

you gave him a sideways smile.

“i didn’t wanna let anyone get too close. they always leave me in the end. thought pushin’ you away would do us both good.” he shook his head. “was wrong—which is new for me.” 

you giggled and he smiled, wiping your eyes before tears could fall. 

his grip on your legs tightened. “m’not good for you. i meant that. but i want you. and m’done pretendin’ like i don’t. m’not a good man. but you can decide f’yourself.”

your finger traced one of the scars on his cheeks. “so, you want to keep doing this?”

he nodded.

“and we’re to be… exclusive.”

“i wasn’t kiddin’ ‘bout killin’ any man that touches you.” 

you didn’t doubt it. “okay,” you said faintly.

his eyes flickered between yours. “okay,” he mirrored.

something strange settled in simon’s stomach. in all the ways without actually saying it, you were now his girlfriend. how you had gone from hating him to dating him, in less than an hour was beyond him. 

and he knew he was going to mess this up. he had always known he was never allowed to keep anything good in life. that’s a big reason he refused to act on his feelings towards you. it’s why he tried to get you to hate him after he relapsed at the bar. he didn’t deserve anything good.

nothing good can stay, at least not for simon.

and he would soon be right.  

chapter 14 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask #mw3 #ghost mw3

[undercoverpena]

yours to keep

johnny 'soap' mactavish x f!reader

wordcount: 4.6k || dedicated to @guyfieriii an: teensy smut, fluff, banter, friends-to-lovers babeh summary: You’re in a dress. Your legs are fucking out. His throat all of sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought.  other soap work.

“Why’d they call ya, Squid?” “‘Cause I’m tiny and can swim well.” “Seriously?” You smirked. “No. I kinda… maybe took out a room full of people with a knife. Nothing really. Just… My old Lieutenant said I must have had eight arms or something. So, Squid.” He watches as she looks down. “They tried Octo and Pus for a day, but… realised even within the military, the latter bordered on an HR complaint.” “Steamin’ Jesus.” 

Soap remembers when the rumours swirled about you and Gaz. 

The two of you were—and are—just good friends. He knows that, believes it, even. He knows there’s nothing but innocence when Gaz’s arm is slung over your shoulders, pulling an easy laugh from you—even if you were bruised and covered in blood, dirt and whatever else. You both knew one another—the only two out of the whole 141 that did—before it was formed. 

It didn't matter how good you were, the whispers still followed. They pricked at you. Soap remembers how you’d dip your head when you passed certain tables in the mess. How you only walked a little taller if you were with him, Ghost or Gaz. 

Now, the rumours were about you and him. 

The two of you having shifted and changed. One minute work colleagues, and then two people who’d needed the other for body heat. He hadn’t meant for the jokes to flow when the only thing that separated the two of you was underwear. But, your eyes had been shimmering, surrounded by snow tinting your lashes. Your beauty was apparent to him before, but harder to ignore when he looked down at you close to him. 

“You d’this with all the boys, lass?”  “No. Just ones from Scotland, it seems.” 

Truthfully, he’d thought you were stunning the moment he first saw you. But, there’s something about seeing the specks in someone’s eyes that makes things feel more intense. Been given the rare chance to study each angle of your cheeks, nose and brows—the way your lips curl when he makes a joke you clearly don’t want to laugh at. Letting him commit you all to memory, in case he never got a moment quite like it again.

Then evac rescued you both, and he half-expected things to go back to how they were. 

But they didn’t. 

The two of you remaining close, flirtatious banter flowing even in a room full of people. He thought you’d be less bothered, but you were more riled by the rumours. Especially at the beginning—when they first began—making your head dip, fists clenching and your eyes struggle to meet his. 

Now, he’s sure you lean into them, practically desperate for someone to dare egg you on so you can tell them he blows your back out. 

Not that he’s had the chance. But, fuck, would he. 

He’d do more than that given half a chance. Not just because you’re beautiful, not just because you make him laugh—but because you make his whole fucking heart soar. You make him better without doing anything, easily able to pull the good parts of him out. 

It had all been gradual, having crept up on him. The way you’ve embedded yourself into his thoughts. 

At first, it was in admiration at your hand-to-hand, the way you use your smaller frame to bend and twist. Then it was because you let your hair down, your head bent back, and your neck all exposed. The dark and dingy inn is full of weightless laughter and thudding music in some country far from home. Gaz pouring a clear bottle directly into your mouth. The way your eyes hit the light and how big your smile was when you stood straight, doing something instantly to him. Making him almost cross the short distance and wipe the vodka from your chin and lips with his tongue. 

Before, you were just Squid. 

Now, you’re more than that. 

You’re paradise and perfect days—and a messy bunch of emotions and snark he hates being away from.

Has been since you let him call you a nickname he’d only ever heard Gaz use and Gaz alone. He’d tried it, tested it, rolled it around on his tongue before he even said it to you. Almost having said it at the inn, when your eyes were glazed and your tongue loose. But, he’d waited—wanting you alone, all to himself so he could watch your reaction. 

See if he’d earnt calling it you. 

“Mari.”

“You know that's not my name, right?”

Your face having turned, the slyest smirk on your face. 

And he had hoped you don’t know he’s been working up to saying it. Almost getting lost in the odd twinkle of your eyes.

He knows, down the path of whatever the two of you become—if anything—this would be the moment he realised he liked you, liked you. That he imagined, for a brief fucking moment, that there could be a future. 

“Oh? Aye? Heard Gaz call it y’… just assumed.”

Shrugging, you stabbed your food again, a soft laugh escaping the air, blessing the space between them. “No, no, no. But it’s okay, you can call it me too. I mean, we did share some floorboards and a ratty blanket, the least I can do to thank you for keeping me warm.” 

He can’t even remember what he wanted to ask. The image of you against him—slightly shivering, eyes staring into his as your hand clutched his back—at the forefront. 

Everything else had vanished, stolen from his mind. Plucked by your beautiful eyes and brain-wiping smile. 

“What is your name?” 

“You know that’s classified, Johnny.”

“You know mine.” 

You had shrugged again, smirking. “If you keep letting me steal your fries, I might let you know.” 

He pushed the rest of his plate towards you, “Y’got it, lass.” 

“Why you want it so bad?” 

He leaned close, even if the rest of the mess hall wasn’t listening—not even paying attention. “Just be nice t’know what t’call y’when I’m fake blowin’ yur back out.” 

Your eyes met his. 

Time all of a sudden frozen. His own flicking from your eyes to the rest of your face, watching, waiting. The two of you have been towing this line so well, recently; dancing on the line of will-they-won’t-they flirtation. And sometimes, he’s not sure if he’s gone too far—if they’ve gone too far. 

So he hopes for a message. One from your face directly—cause it can never lie. 

And he sees it, a twitch of your lips, a slight narrowing of your eyes, before you steal another one of his fries, and bring it to your lips. 

“You’d learn it quicker if you actually blew my back out, Johnny-boy. I’d be like putty in your fuckin’ hands,” you had said, soft, sultry, and so low it took him a moment to realise what you’d just said. 

And then, like all good moments, it broke—Lt appearing, looming over the table. 

Since then—when shit really hits the fan—he seeks you without question. Your eyes land on him, instantly knowing—as if he’s a book and you already know all of his pages. 

When it’s you, he knows from the way your shoulders are sunk, the clear need to be held being written into each muscle. Mostly, it’s the dullness sitting in your eyes. Usually, they sparkle. Not quite a disco ball, but something close to it. When they shine bright, they make the darker days easier and the good days that bit better.   

He won’t admit it to anyone, but he loves having your head on his chest. For a moment able to dream—think—of a time when you’d be here for reasons not so sad. That you’d be here because it’s the two of you, against it all. 

Not just as friends. 

As something so much more. 

Then you leave before he wakes, the reminder it’s not quite that yet, feeling something close to a blade making tiny cuts—not enough to bleed him dry, but enough to make it sting, singe and ache. 

He really does hate the rumours—mainly because he wishes they were true.

“If you could eat anything for breakfast, what would you choose?”  “Gotta b’ a Scottish brekkie, ain’t it?”  “Streaky bacon?”  “Aye. Not a brekkie without it.”  “I guess.” “Y’not a fan?”  “Prefer cock for breakfast, if I’m honest.” “Fuckin’ hell, Mari.” “What? You forgot for a moment you’ve been stabbed, mission accomplished.” 

It’s rare. Unusual. 

The whole lot of you crammed in a bar, never mind some small pub in Manchester. Even more unexpected that it was booked out—a specific request for the group of you to bask in the success of the last mission. The one which had taken weeks—stole more from you all than you’d known you could give. 

It had been hard. Long. Difficult. 

So many more words he couldn’t quite think. But in all of it there were moments, tiny fragments he clutched onto. You seek him out, your face sunken and sad, burying your head into his chest as you hold onto him for what felt like hours. Him on a rooftop, staring out into the dark with Ghost, the two mindlessly talking, thinking, and planning, before he asks him where he wishes he could be. 

Now, as he sips his first drink, he replays it. Smiling to himself, because while Lt didn’t say this place, he suspects the name he whispered belonged to the person behind the bar. The one who keeps side-eyeing him, the occasional half-smile gracing their mouth. 

He takes another sip as he thinks of you. 

You who Soap had watched lose sleep. Finding you huddled over a map or screen with Gaz, low whispers, reluctance to rest. Using the few free hours of any given day to train—needing to be better. 

You didn’t ask him—or even Gaz—you’d asked Ghost. 

It ate at him. Chipped away. 

Soap blamed the lack of sleep for where his mind went. Using the same time stuffing down his jealousy over the fact you didn’t ask him. The wallowing peppered with thoughts of being inadequate, making his jaw clench, making him unravel just that bit more. 

In a way, they were all protective of you—not that any of them needed to be. But, it wasn’t something bizarre, out of character. It was something they all felt, tied together by the simple fact they’d come to care for the five-foot-something Squid. 

Even with that, he knows he feels something more. 

It’s been churning, twisting and transforming inside of him for weeks—months. His heart almost leapt from his chest when he thought you were in the building he’d watched being blown up. The compass he relies on to keep him north, disintegrating, dark shadows coming down around his eyes until he sees you emerge from smoke and flames—without your pissing helmet. 

Y’know how to scare me, lass.  Keeping you on your toes, Soapie. 

Now, he’s waiting for you. Paying attention to the hands on his watch—side-eyeing the door until it opens, blasting in cold, Gaz leading you in. 

And—

Fuck. Shit. Bollocks. 

You’re in a dress. 

Your legs are fucking out. 

His throat all of a sudden dry, suddenly unable to focus on anything—hand grasping his glass, the ice clinging and clanging against it. 

Then your eyes land on him. The rest of the room faded to nothing. He can feel his cheeks warm, his smile beginning to rise—all of it natural, all of it without thought. 

Punctuating it all is the soft lulls of Friday I’m In Love playing as he takes the moment to truly drink you in. It feels like minutes, maybe an hour—and he isn’t going to squander it for a second…

And then you blink, stepping up to the bar. 

“Hi, could I order—wait, you are beautiful,” you say to the woman behind the bar—your eyes staring at her. 

Gaz steps in, apologising, but all he’s focusing on is you. 

You’re here. 

Looking every inch radiant from head to fucking toe.  

And he needs another drink. He needs a shot. 

He needs…

A fucking hope and a prayer because he’s not sure if he can pocket his feelings anymore—unsure if stuffing them down will go well with alcohol, bitterness, and the smoothest scotch he’s had in ages. 

So he orders another. 

And three drinks down, and Soap is sitting across from you. A wobbly table between you both, your elbow leaning on it, rocking it from side to side occasionally. 

The scent of fusty ale and brass having faded, swapped for a floral perfume and the elements of his drink. 

You’re focused, even with slightly glazed eyes, on the bar—on the others behind the two of you. Likely on the girl behind the bar, the one you keep staring at—the one who keeps shooting Ghost smiles. 

And he’s jealous. 

He’s jealous because he’s wondering if you’re jealous.

If you want him—your two’s Lieutenant. The one who trained you, sparred with you, and made you go to sleep. 

“C'mon, lass. Desert island, who’d y’want with you?” 

“It’s her.” 

“Wha—?”

You blink, staring at him—your glass in hand as you shake your head. “What?” 

“Who’s ya best friend, lass?”

Your hands play with your glass, spinning it on the wooden table—the one with chipped and glass rings all over its mahogany surface, “From that, I’m guessing you’re hoping it’s you.”

“It’s not?”

“No.”

His throat dries. 

Suddenly realising he shouldn’t have pushed this button. Not sure his frame of mind can even take it. Alcohol bubbling in his stomach, his throat—

“Who then?” 

“Gaz. Obviously.

“Why is tha’obvious?”

“He lives closer.” 

“Is that wha’ makes a friendship, then?”

“Well, my best friend wouldn’t willingly choose to live further away from me, would they?” 

He smiles, realising you’re pulling his leg. Winding him up. Teasing him. 

“Don’t you live closer to, Lt?” 

Leaning closer, you take a purposeful sip, staring him down. Searing down to the core. “Yes, but he can’t be my best friend.” 

Tell me why. Tell me it’s me. 

Choose me. Pick me. 

His heart thumping more, almost in beat with the song. Thump. Thump. Thump. It almost rises up, almost in his throat, pounding against the space he needs to breathe through.

“And, why’s that?” 

You drain your glass, clanking it down. “I can’t be best friends with someone who calls me ‘Squidlet’, Soap. It’s demeaning enough that I let him call me that, never mind rewarding him for it by giving him more of my awesome personality. He can be third in line.” 

And it sinks. 

That feeling. The hope. The want. 

“Well,” he says, quickly. “Ah, I’m glad y’pulled y’self away from Lt to drink with me then, ya fourth.”

“What?”

“Nothin’”

Your hand clutches his arm, stopping him from raising his own glass. “Tell me.” 

“Yur’ always wit ‘im. Before. Could n’va find ya.”

“Who? Gaz?”

“Nah, Lt.”

Inwardly, he cringes. Hating the alcohol, hating how it makes his tongue loose in his head. Letting all of it, each festering feeling, bubble to the surface. 

Because you’re more than his friend. 

You’re so much more. 

“Johnny… it… we were just sparring.”

“Yea, it’s alright—“

“Wait. Are you jealous?”

“No!”

He doesn’t mean to snap. 

Your eyes stare at him, hand dropping from his arm as you slowly reel back. And then you stand, and he inwardly pleads for you to sit. 

Please, Lass. Please. 

Your mouth opening, words all set to be spat, but then you shake your head, walking until you’re out of his sight—the cold draft on his back is enough of an indication of where you've gone. 

Leaving him with a choice. 

One that begins to grow inside of him as the song begins. One he’s heard already, but now it feels different. It’s motivating, it’s making him down his drink, slamming it back down. 

It’s making him stand, turning, watching the other three men staring at him, two with a knowing smile, one with a knowing stare. Even the woman—he doesn’t know the name, who he’s sure is fucking Ghost—leans against the pumps has that look. 

And he knows.

Like they all do. 

His feet move him to the door as Price grabs him around the forearm. “So, the rumours true, or?” 

“Aye, well ther’ about to be, sir.”

“That so?”

“Yeah… I’d apologise, but, excuse me.”

It’s cold. 

That’s what he thinks first when he steps outside. Eyes adapting to the dark, to the mist from the rain—letting the bitter feeling coat his bones. The dread, the fucking ache caused by even letting you go. 

He pleads. 

Hopes, too. 

Please don’t have left, lass. 

Scanning, looking, and then he hears it. Pacing—pacing that he knows so well it’s burned into his brain. Finding you, watching you down the side of the alleyway, turning to face him as you stop, hands flexing at your side as you stare at him. 

“You’re very annoying.” 

“Aye, probably,” he says, stepping closer. “But, that’s cause y’drive me crazy, and I canne’ stop thinkin’ bout ya. And then, your wir’ him and…” 

Your eyes roll, strands of hair sticking to your face. “Oh, shut up. You know it’s you. You know I like you. You have to.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Because it’s woven neatly between my faux-contempt and sarcasm.”

“Well, y’can probably see how I may have missed that, ay?”

“Not really. I think it’s pretty obvious. Personally. I don’t share a bed with Gaz. And I’m not standing outside as it fucking pelts it down in a ridiculously thin dress because I like British weather. I’m stood out here because the guy who is my best friend, and that I’m pretty sure I could be in love with, is being a dickhead.”

Staring, he steps closer, watching you fold your arms. “Y’in love with me?”

“Of course, that’s the part you heard.”

“Mari—“

You cut him off, not just with your eyes, but with your words. “I mean, as big as Ghost is, it’s not him I ask to lie in bed with after a difficult mission. It’s not him that I go to when I need to smile or laugh. Fuck, I only chose him for sparring because he doesn’t go easy on me, and… and I can’t have you thinking you need to save me.”

“I don’t—“

“—but you do. You practically ripped up Urzikstan to find me.”

“Cause y’were ambushed, lass. Not cause I dunna think y’can handle y’self. Shittin’ Jesus, I know y’can. Y’terrify me because I canne’ lose you. Not cause I dunna think y’can do it.”

It sits there. 

His words. Yours. The two of them ferment, shifting. The space between the two of you gets smaller until his hand is on your cheek, and yours is on his waist, and he wants nothing more than to close the gap. To kiss you. To taste the drinks you’ve been sipping from your lips. 

But he pauses. 

Needing to capture this, the two of you. 

“Soap…”

“Yea’, Mari…” 

He watches you swallow, how your eyes flick from his own to his mouth. “I’d be lost without you, Johnny.” 

He’s not sure who moves first. You, or him. 

But you taste like sweetness and alcohol—your lips cold against him, tinged with the droplets from the sky. Your perfume envelops him, swirling with his, making a concoction of something he thinks he wants to bottle. You and him. A scent he’s both never smelt before and yet had been craving as his hand slides around your cheek—clutching you close as he feels your hands dig into his waist. 

You moan against him, soft, low, almost vibrating through him. Your soft, fucking lips and he slides his tongue against your teeth, and he almost loses his goddamn mind. 

Because it’s happening. 

And he doesn’t want it to slip through his fingers. Not now, not ever. Moving you, as you suddenly begin guiding him, his back against the wall of the pub. 

For a moment, he stops, and then your fingers crack open his belt. The sound loud, so loud, in the silence of the night and the rain making puddles. Your mouth capturing his, your hand sliding down the space and nestle of hair between his stomach and cock. Your hand wraps around him, and it’s…  

More than he thought it could be. 

Even more so when you stroke him, pumping him with your hand, eliciting a groan as he feels your grip tighten, teeth rolling over your bottom lip as you slowly lower to your knees in front of his very eyes. 

“Fuck, Mari. Y’dont even know what y’do to me.” 

“I can feel it, if that helps.”

“Ay, behave.”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, lips practically touching the head of his cock as your breath dances over the tip. 

“Make me, Johnny.”

He blinks. 

Stares. 

And then your mouth is around him, taking him into your warm fucking mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip of him. And it’s everything. The image of it alone almost makes him come down your throat until it hits him—

“What the fuc—“ you snap.

His hand dragging you off him, up onto your feet. 

“No girl o’mine is suckin’ me off on her knees in this shite weather.” 

Your lips part, rendered silent as you just stare. “Your girl?”

“Aye, if you want to be?” 

Just the wind blowing down the alleyway, your perfume hitting his nose like it has done all night. Scratching the back of his brain, coaxing him closer with its scent-filled fingers. 

“Did you… did you just stop me from sucking you off?” 

“Aye.” 

“Fuckin’ hell, you love me, you love me back...” 

He runs his tongue over his teeth. Because fuck, he kinda does, but, also, fuck. 

“This fuckin’ dress—“ he groans instead, turning you, pressing your back against brick as you smirk. “—that fuckin’ smile.” 

You clutch his waist as he winds his hand up your thigh, his belt clattering against his legs as his trousers slide down. “All for you, Johnny.” 

“Steamin’ Jesus, Mari. Call me that again,—“

And then you say your name. 

Surrendering it, presenting to him. It’s the best thing he’s ever been given. It almost mingles with your breath, it’s that silent. The only evidence of you speaking it is the wisps of your exhale swirling with the air. 

He rolls it around his mind, as he did with your nickname, and then he says it as he slips his fingers under the band of your lace. Sliding two inside of you, groaning at the feel of you—of how much you want him. Not Simon. Not Gaz. Him. 

“Only you,” you say, all breathy, eyes closed. 

As if you can read his thoughts. Like you’re living in his fucking head. 

“Only ever you.” 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

Your eyes open, lust boldly staring at him as he finds that spot—the one which makes you grip his shoulder, nails digging in through his shirt. 

And he’s going to ruin you. He’s going to fuck you until neither of you can take anymore. 

He promises it to you with each stroke of his fingers inside you, each ghostly kiss he gives you as you chant his name and he catches each one. 

He will. But not here. 

That’s what hotels are for. 

“Hey, none of that being cute, shit, today. I’m in enough trouble with Price as it is.” “Ay. Alright. But, y’think I’m cute?” “Shut up, Johnny.” “Got it, lass.” A beat happens, him staying as he watches you. “You don’t have to stay, Soap.” “I want t’.” “Okay.” “Alrighty.” 

He awakens to a knock. 

It’s not loud, but dull. 

And very bloody insistent. 

Slowly, he opens his eyes, half-hoping his mind hasn't lied to him, before finding your face close to his—turned to him, watching him. 

It’s not a dream. 

“Hi…”

“Hello,” you say, rocking your hips as you smile. 

If you ever try to tell him you don’t look beautiful in the morning, he’d pull up this image of you—right here. 

“Someone’s at the door, Johnny.” 

“Y’got legs, Mari.” 

“No, I don’t, actually,” you say with a smirk. “Someone fucked me to the point they’re broken. I almost knocked myself out getting to the bathroom for a wee an hour ago. You did this, so you go.” 

It blooms in his chest as he stands, throwing on his underwear as he heads to the door. 

The smirk not fading, not just because of the knowledge he’s done that to you—made your legs weak—but that you were staring at him how you just had been doing. The realisation that your body is naked under those expensive, Egyptian bed sheets—the same ones he’d fucked you under, on top of and likely around throughout last night. 

If you’re trying to blow my back out, you’re succeeding.  Y’know I don’t like t’fail missions, hen.  Call me that again. Wha? Hen?

It’s different, unique. 

A look he’s never seen. It’s almost content mixed with adoration, happiness trying to be hidden by disdain—the latter something you’ve perfected over time. 

Am I your best friend now?  No. You’re something else. Oh, upgraded, am I? What is it you say? Aye?

He looks back, finding you watching him, hand up, close to your face, trying to shield your face. Maybe hiding a smile, a devious smirk. But, it’s the look in your eyes he almost can’t place, it almost stops him. Makes him ask what is wrong. 

But they knock, again. Interrupting a moment he’s been wishing for more than he does a shower after being covered in guts and blood. Whoever they are, impatiently bothering them. 

It’s not until he opens the door, the person standing with a cart and metal dishes on it does he realise—

“Room service.” 

The minx. 

The beautiful, fucking minx.

He grins, almost to the point it makes his cheeks ache as he takes it from them. Trying to guide it back into the room with minimal clanging and difficulty. His hands are desperate to pull the lid off, finding your hand on top of his—body covered in pulled sheets from the bed, teeth biting your lips. 

“What’cha done ‘ere then?” 

His hand brushes your cheek, finding it as soft as it always is—your eyes softening, lips widening as you move into him. It’s different, and he’s glad. It’s closer, with no space between the sides of your body, no remaining space left purposefully because of friendship. 

“Streaky bacon…”

“Aye?” 

Lifting the tin, seeing a whole plate full of it. His head turning, looking at you, watching you smile up at him—your hand on his chest, drawing those soft shapes—the same ones you did when the two of you caught your breaths after the third… maybe fourth… time he made you come on his cock. 

“Y’still like t’ same thing for breakfast, Mari?” 

“Only if it’s yours.” 

His cheeks burn—his ears too. “Y’heavenly, you are.” 

“I try” 

You lift the other tray, his eyes finding an array of fruit. Watching you take a piece, popping it in your mouth. His questioning look must be evident, your eyes watching him as you swallow. 

“Ghost once told me sugar is good post-workout—refuels the muscles or something,” you say, swiping your tongue against your bottom lip. “And we still have this room till 11am, don’t we? And I thought, since we’ve already wasted a lot of time—” 

He captures your lips. 

The sheet falling from between the two of you, like paper to the floor—effortless and silent. His body flush against you, feeling your giggle bubble through you to him. All light, airy—and fucking perfection. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your lips as the two of you fall back into bed. 

“Yours,” you whisper back, throwing your leg over him as you straddle him, hovering your lips over his. “All yours, till you’re sick of me.”

He moves your hair from your face, grasping your hip—thump fitting over the growing bruise he’s already left. “‘never be sick of you, Mari.” 

an: reader is called mari... because of calamari... squid joke ;)

prequel jealous!soap fic here

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #soap Mactavish x f!reader #soap 🧼 #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x you #cod soap x reader #cod soap #soap mw2

[captain-mj]

GhostGaz but like, okay listen

when fics/art do the thing where one is naked and the other is in a suit and tie, I go rabid. Especially when the one dressed up keeps their clothes on when they fuck

Not raunchy, but still :3

Went to twitter and searched this ship up like I do with all ships I'm writing for the first time right? And... wow almost everything was poly141 stuff and not like... actual GhostGaz?? I'd be happy to feed the starving masses

Ghost hated dressed up. It was dumb and he only did it when Price forced him to. Despite all of his protesting for this particular event, he still had to wear it.

Obviously the mask was still on, but he had a suit and tie on. Signature black with a red shirt instead of white. He ran his naked fingers along the fabric to straighten it.

Someone knocked on his door to alert him that he needed to get moving and he gritted his teeth, trying not to curse. He was frustrated, but not quite angry enough to take it out on the random person Price sent to pass along the message. "I'll be right out."

There was no real response but Ghost could see a shadow at his door, so whoever it was, they were lingering. He opened the door to see Sergeant Garrick looking up at him.

Gaz was at just the right height that he had to tilt his head to look at. He looked startled that Ghost had opened the door so suddenly and blinked a bit like an owl at him.

"Sergeant."

"You look good in that suit, sir." Gaz said it plainly and simply. Like it was no big deal.

Ghost felt a bit of heat in his face, but he ignored it. "Thank you, Garrick. Now move."

That should've been it. He expected that to be all there was to it at the very least.

But throughout the entire... party? It was basically a meet up for a few higher ups who usually brought their spouses (and on one horrible occasion, a mistress which Ghost immediately reported to his wife) to talk. A glorified military ball in his opinion.

Anyway, Gaz stared. A lot. He wasn't shy about it. His eyes wandering up and down his body in a way that was horribly objectifying.

Normally, Ghost wring anyone's neck who did that and maybe throw in some threats to put him in the infirmary if he didn't stop staring. But this was Kyle. And Ghost always found it hard to stay mad at him. Never could quite put his finger on it, but most people had that problem.

Ghost eventually just stared back, even letting his eyes wander.

Kyle Gaz Garrick was a pretty man. No doubt about that. He had a beautiful smile, long eyelashes, and could be cold, even vicious if the situation called for it. Also, the long legs he had? The hips? Now that Ghost was really looking, he could pretty easily imagine picking him up and setting him on the counter. Finding out if his skin bruised easy like a peach or if he'd have to work at it.

Ghost regained eye contact and Gaz grinned. Those fangs of his exposed.

"Captain. Have I been here long enough?"

Price smiled at him. "Yeah, you can go ahead and head out."

Gaz flashed a more persuasive smile. "Me too, sir?"

"Sure, Kyle." Price smiled at him and then patted Simon on his shoulder.

Ghost kept a steady pace and sure enough, Gaz was right next to him. "I think you look good in that suit too, Kyle."

"Thank you, Ghost."

"Do you look better out of it?"

Gaz stumbled and used Ghost's arm to steady himself. Ghost wasn't sure how real that was, but it was convincing enough. "Want to find out, sir?"

"You can call me Simon." Ghost yanked him along. "My bedroom."

He didn't miss the victorious little grin Gaz got at that. "Will you keep the suit on?"

"I was planning on it, trust me."

They stumbled into the room and Gaz grabbed the edge of his mask. He paused and looked at him. "Just want to kiss you. Don't have to go further."

"Take it off, Kyle."

Gaz didn't hesitate. Before the mask even hit the floor, Gaz was kissing him breathless. He nibbled on his lips and pressed against his chest.

Ghost did what he thought of in the ballroom. He picked him up, marveling a little at how easy it was to do. He set him on the dresser and started to get rid of his suit.

Gaz was a work of art. Even with his shirt only unbuttoned. Toned, warm skin. Unlike Ghost, he hadn't had a chance to get a bunch of scars yet, but there were a few. A bullet graze here. Small cut there. His mouth quickly found them, licking over them and marking over them. He fought to get the shirt off his shoulders so he could get to more.

“Fucking hell, Simon. I won’t run away.”

“Better not. I’d just chase you down.”

Gaz groaned. “Hot. I think i could get away from you.”

Ghost huffed at him. “Like to see you try.” He bit into the soft flesh of his shoulder, enjoying the softness. Gaz’s pressed his thigh against Ghost’s reaction and he rutted against him immediately.

Ghost pulled off Gaz's pants and grabbed his thighs. Thick and soft, perfect for him to sink his fingers into. He picked Gaz back up and carried him to bed this time.

Gaz laid down on his bed, looking absolutely beautiful in his sheets. His hard cock sat on his stomach and leaked precum all over abs. Ghost grabbed some lube and coated two of his fingers. "You still okay with this?"

Gaz grinned, all sharp and pretty. "Yes, Simon. I am. I'll tell you if you need to stop, okay?" He reassured him, currently running his ankle over Ghost's still clothed side. "Fuck you look good in a suit."

Ghost blushed and Gaz immediately noticed, looking suddenly more smug than before. "You're hot usually. Very commanding. But something about the suit being added..." He bit his lip and Ghost plunged his fingers in to him to shut him up before he said something stupid.

Ghost was never much of a talker and this was no different. Instead, he listened to all the little noises he let out, relished each gasp and moan and whine. His mouth found his nipple and he licked over, enjoying how it made him squirm. His fingers moved almost robotically. Plunging in and out. In and out. Staying the exact same pace as they worked incredibly tight walls open.

His cock was straining against his suit pants now as he pushed in deeper. He eventually pushed a third finger in, reveling in the sweet stretch and the even sweeter whimper it got.

Gaz panted softly. "Alright, you've done your job now get to the main event."

"Don't want to accidentally hurt you."

"i'm a big boy, I'll be fine." Gaz reached down and unzipped his pants, eagerly pulling out his cock. "I see you're a big boy too."

Ghost scoffed at him and pushed him back down. He pulled him to the edge of the bed and lined himself up with one hand and kept a tight hold of Gaz's ankle with the other. Despite Gaz's teasing, he took it slow. He was so tight. Soft and inviting, but he had to work for it.

Gaz bit his lip hard and tried to wrap his legs around his waist. "Simon." He raised his hips to make it a little easier.

Ghost bottomed out and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to pull out. Gaz clenched around him erratically as he tried to get used to how much he was being stretched and it was doing something to his brain chemistry. Scrambling something fundamental until the only thing he could think of was how good this felt.

How was he going to survive meetings with him? Hearing him speak? The entire time knowing he was the best fuck he had ever had and they had barely gotten started.

After a moment, Ghost rolled his hips nice and easy. Gaz's eyes rolled back and he realized he was pressed right against his prostate. He took advantage, pulling out just a little and thrusting back in hard, getting a proper moan out of Gaz.

"I'm going to ruin you, Garrick." Ghost promised before starting to pound into him. He probably should've waited a little longer, made sure that Gaz was adjusted, but Gaz clawed at his shoulders and begged for him to keep going so it couldn't be that bad of a decision. His blunt nails couldn't get through the fabric but it felt good to feel how desperate he made him.

They kissed again and he bent Gaz almost in half, pushing him until he thought it would hurt but Gaz didn't seem bothered at all. He clenched with every thrust, begging Ghost to be as rough as he wanted.

Ghost bit his throat hard. He tasted blood for a moment.

Gaz's begging changed. "I'm going to come, fuck, so close." He clawed at his back, only succeeding in yanking his shirt up.

Ghost lifted up and kissed him again. Gaz bit Ghost's lip when he came and his legs went from simply wrapped around him to being a death grip, pushing him deeper inside. Ghost finished only moments after he did, panting softly.

Gaz kissed his cheek. "Is the suit yours?"

"Yeah."

"Ask me over any time you feel like trying it on."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #ghostgaz #gazghost #ghost x gaz #gaz x ghost

[soapisahimbo]

NSFW ABC - König Edition

I am all for this fucking bandwagon, and I am jumping right up on it with some smut about our favourite Austrian giant, König!

This posts contains heavy smut elements, so minors stay away!

If you like this and want more, I already have nsfw alphabets about Soap, Alejandro, Gaz and Ghost in the works, so don't you worry!

Let me know what you think, and enjoy!

warnings: senseless smut, könig is kinda obsessed, tried to keep it genderneutral but female anatomy might be hinted at, mentions of throatfucking (könig might be bi tbh), longer than it needs to be

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Needs reassurance that he didn't go too far, that he didn't hurt you and that you want him to stay. He's bigger than above average, and while he tries to control himself, he sometimes loses himself in the heat of the moment, and the heat of you.

Has a tendency to overstimulate you without intending to, and can grip you a bit tighter than he means to, so he spends some time kissing any bruises he can find as if to say sorry, and massages any sore muscles that might be making themselves known when the high is wearing off. He'll happily carry you into the shower and help you wash off, careful not to rub any areas that might be sore or sensitive (anymore than he has to, at least). You might need to convince him if you want to massage him too, because lord knows he needs to be taken care of as well, but if you get the chance to, he'll probably fall asleep in minutes.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

With his anxiety and experience with getting relentlessly bullied when younger, his perception of his body is a bit skewed. He's trained to be a soldier; his body is meant for fighting and killing. While acutely aware of his own size, he has never really taken the time to actually take a proper look at his body for anything other than to check for wounds and scars, and even though he has received a number of compliments in his adult years and enjoyed them, the concept of being confident solely in his physical appearance is a bit foreign to him.

With you, however, he has indeed found himself some appreciation for his body - you shower him with compliments any chance you get, but he has specifically grown a new fondness of his hands. He loves the way your skin feels under his palms, how you sigh and shiver and moan when he finds all the right spots, loves squeezing at your softer parts and seeing the flesh bulb out between his fingers.

Speaking of softer parts, while there is probably not a single millimeter of your body that he doesn't want to lay all of his love onto, he must admit that he has a specific weakness for your chest and thighs. Even if you don't have big breasts, he still loves to run his hands and mouth over them, making circles over your nipples with his thumbs and tongue. As for your thighs, he will sometimes spend an extended amount of time doing nothing but stroking, kissing, licking, sucking and biting them. He doesn't move to eat you out (although it will more often than not lead to that), he's not doing it to tease you, but there's just something about the softness and the warmth that has him lose track of time. Loves the way they squeeze together around his hand or head or hips when you cum, and will sometimes make you cum for the sole reason of watching them quiver.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

This is actually something that used to embarrass him to no end before he got with you, because he cums quite a lot. He makes a mess and he doesn't like it. The first time you had sex without a condom, he had you on your back, holding the back of your knees to keep your legs spread. He intended to pull out to stop himself from coming, because it was happening quicker than he anticipated and he wanted this to last, but to no avail. He came all over your hole, and at the twitch of his cock, a couple of spurts shot up along your torso, leaving trails from your pubic mound all the way up to your neck.

He apologized profusely, on the verge of tears because he thought that he had ruined everything, that you'd be disgusted, but when you ran a finger through it and brought it to your mouth to taste, his brain short circuited and he almost came again from the sight alone. Nowadays he takes it upon himself to lick it off of your body, or from between your legs after he's watched it leak out, only to then crawl back up to your face and kiss you deeply to share the taste.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He had woken up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, nothing crazy. But when he came back to bed, you had shifted in your sleep. The cover had slipped off of you, you were naked and your legs were spread. There were hickeys forming along the inside of your thighs, and he could tell that there was still some stickiness left from your prior session.

The more timid side of him told him to just tuck you in and go back to sleep, but he couldn't look away. As if in a trance, he knelt down on the mattress at the foot of the bed and stared, feeling himself get hard. He wanted to dive in, but you were sleeping and he didn't want to disturb your peace, and as if on autopilot, he wrapped his hand around his dick, pumping it to nothing but the sight of you. He got close embarrassingly fast, leaning his weight forward on one hand and gripping the sheets, as if to get closer while also keeping himself at bay, biting his lip to keep quiet, salivating.

He quickly realized the mess he'd make if he came now, so he rushed back out into the bathroom and stepped into the shower where his cum could easily be rinsed down the drain. When he came back, you'd rolled over on your side and snuggled into the sheets. He still hasn't told you and it still pains him, because he hates keeping secrets from you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

Contrary to popular belief, not a virgin. At least not to the full extent. Has had both men and women offer to help him blow off some steam when his adrenaline is still running high, and has taken some of them up on that offer. Never actual sex though; any time that he has actually snuck off with someone, they've usually gotten down on their knees and offered their hands or throats to him.

He may or may not have had a dick or two in his own mouth before - they're oftentimes much smaller than he is, and he's never really had any trouble taking them.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Might not have one single specific favourite, but has learned to enjoy the way he completely covers you when he has you underneath him, because it makes him feel like he's protecting you, regardless of if he's fucking you in missionary or if you're lying face down, ass up. Likes leaning over you as closely as he can, and often pushes your knees up to your chest or angling himself in an attempt to get deeper into you. Sometimes, when he's starting to lose himself, he'll fall over a bit and bury his face in the pillow next to your head and moan almost helplessly into the fabric. It would make you smile if you weren't usually right there on that edge with him.

Also loves it when you get on top to ride him, because he gets to watch you from a whole new angle. He'll happily sit back and let you pick the pace, watching you fuck yourself on him with an awed gleam in his eyes. He'll be happy to have you either way.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

Tends to be a bit more serious due to his nerves, but your sex life is not without it's funny moments, like when you knock your heads together or fumble with the belt, or nearly fall over when trying to take your clothes off. He ran his hand over your waist in a way that tickled you once, and when you giggled he couldn't bring himself to stop, a beaming grin on his face as he told you to make that sound again. Every now and again, you'll tickle each other, even when he's balls deep, just because it gives a sort of domestic reprieve in what can sometimes be an overwhelmingly hot and heavy moment.

The two of you have also laughed yourselves into a tummyache a number of times, usually because of something that caught both of you completely off guard, like the time you broke a small cot that belonged to someone else. He was petrified at first, but once you'd started giggling, he couldn't keep it together. Eventually you both had reached full belly laugh, and you both just laughed for a long while before he eventually gathered his senses, buried his face in the skin of your neck, and with another chuckle he pulled you into him and started fucking you again, the sound of your laugh still hanging around the edges of your surprised moans.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

Doesn't actually have a whole lot of hair. It's thick, and enough to cover his pubic mound, curly and dark, but it's not like an absolute jungle. Prides himself on his personal hygiene and might go for a trim if he ever feels like he needs to. Has a happy trail that you love running fingers and kisses along, making his legs feel like jelly every time.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

Holds you close, like he wants to sinks into your very skin and stay there forever. Strokes your cheek, looks you deep in the eyes and has a deep red shade spread over his cheeks when he tells you he loves you. He will probably be on the verge of tears if you return the sentiment. He often stops moving just so he can lean in and kiss you deeply and hungrily, as if caught off guard by a sudden and intense desire for it.

He's also really big on nonsexual intimacy, loving to stand in the shower with you with no other purpose but for you to mutually care for each other, or just resting his head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat as you stroke his hair.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He wants to save himself as much as he can for you, but when deployed and sent somewhere far away from you, he can't help himself. He always goes out on his mission with a laser-like focus, but every now and then, on the calmer nights, he can't stop the thoughts about you, about how much he misses you and how he wants nothing more but have you in his arms again, and once these thoughts have turned to the more unsavoury side, he needs to find somewhere private to relieve himself, lest someone on his team notices what's on his mind.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

While he at times can enjoy the sheer size difference between the two of you and how he can use it in the bedroom, it wouldn't be to the point of a kink. You suspect he might have somewhat of an oral obsession however, considering how keen he is on keeping his mouth and tongue on you.

Surprisingly likes it when you tie him up, even though he acts like could positively die if he doesn't get to touch you. Will praise you endlessly, and you think he's about to ascend to some other realm if you praise him as well.

He also catches you off guard when you're out in public and he leans in to whisper that he wants to find some hidden spot somewhere and eat you out. Likes overstimulation, both for you and for himself. He likes being overstimulated because he wants nothing but to be good for you and because he feels almost like a new man afterwards. When he overstimulates you, however, it's usually because he can't bring himself to stop once you've started cumming.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

Somewhat into semi-public stuff, although he still wants to make sure that no one will see you. Other than that, your very own bed is where he likes it the most. Isn't adverse to fucking you on pretty much every other surface in your home, though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

Anything you do with any sort of sexual intention will have him melting into an absolute puddle. If you asked, he'd be on his knees for you before you'd even completed the sentence. If you simply tugged at his clothes, he'd have undressed himself in the blink of an eye. He's incredibly attuned to you whenever you're nearby and he's ready to throw himself at you at any chance he can get. Be kind to him. He can only handle so much before he breaks.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He will never, by any means whatsoever, ever hurt you or degrade you, or do anything that even closely relates to it. Not even to save his own life. The bruises he unintentionally leaves on you from time to time already stress him out enough as is, even if you tell him you don't mind them and that they barely even hurt. If you tell him that you want him to inflict some pain on you or degrade you, he'd flat out refuse. Even as a soldier, it goes against every grain of his very nature to hurt someone he loves. If he ever truly did hurt you, he'd never forgive himself.

Doesn't want to be hurt or degraded either - reminds him too much of his childhood. Any other bodily fluids outside of what usually comes with having sex is also an absolute no-go.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

Believe it or not, but König doesn't really like recieving blowjobs. He's big, and quite a bit more than just a mouthful, and usually when anyone tries to suck him off, even if they are capable of swallowing all of him down, they tend to end up scraping their teeth along the length of him and it doesn't feel good. He'd prefer a handjob in that case. That doesn't mean he doesn't like it when you use your mouth on him, though. Kiss and lick up the sides, tease the ridge just under the helmet, suck on the head and tongue the slit while you work your hand up and down and he'll be crying out your name to the heavens like it's the only thing that could ever save him.

Going down on you, though, is as far as he's concerned an absolute want and need.As mentioned before, he loves the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head, and it's also one of the few times where he actually appreciates his stature, because his hands can still easily reach the rest of your body. It's a bit too easy for him to lose himself in you, however - he tends to get "drunk" off of you and you swear it's like he forgets to breathe. Even with a tight grip of his hair, it takes you a lot to pull him away from you, and when you do, he sucks in a deep lungful of air, only to try and get his mouth back on you. If you by some miracle manage to hold him off, he'll start whining, and between the lust and overstimulation, you rarely have enough strength to actually hang on for long.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Surprisingly soft, even when he's fucking you senselessly. Never slams into you, no. Tends to start off slow, to make sure he's warmed you up enough, but picks up the pace once you start begging him to. Keeps a steady, heavy pace, and even though he doesn't necessarily fuck you hard, you feel like every thrust drives the air out of you.

Once he gets close, however, he picks up speed and strength, almost reminding you of a human jackhammer. When he cums, he pushes himself as deep into you as he can, staying there while you feel his cock pulse, and waits only a moment before he begins to grind his hips into you, relishing in the sensitivity as he pumps you full.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

He would prefer to take his time with you; he needs to warm you up and stretch you out properly before he can actually fuck you. If you are going for a quickie, it's usually because you don't have access to the safety of your home at the moment, and if you (or he, for that matter) can't wait, he'll pull you along to find a secluded place somewhere and the two of you will make a mess out of each other with your hands and mouths instead.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

As mentioned before, can go for something semi-public, but he doesn't by any means want the two of you to get caught. He's up for anything you want to try, as long as there's no risk of either of you getting hurt or as long as it isn't out of this world.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He has finished quicker than intended at times, but if he does, he simply finds some other way to please you. Can last a good while, and you usually end up losing count of how many times you cum. He'll try to go for as long as you can, and he's kept you up at night a fair number of times.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

The idea of toys hadn't really struck him, until he asked you what you did when he was away and you decided to show him. Blushing heavily, he asked you about what they were, how you used them and if they felt good. When your response is "not as good as you," he feels like his heart skips a beat and almost needs to physically restrain himself from throwing himself over you. After much blushing and stammering, he eventually turns to you and asks if you can show him how you use them. He watches closely and learns, and it's like you've given him a whole new world to explore (and new ways to render you completely mindless). He will use the toys on you until you're practically crying for him to give you a break, even if his cock sits painfully hard in his pants.

Once you suggest that you can use them on him as well, you thought he'd throw his neck out with how fast he snapped his head towards you. You showed him things he'd never even considered, and after the first time you'd use a vibrating wand on his cock, he was sure he'd never be the same again.

You tell him about dildos and how you can use them as well, and he finds himself wondering what it would be like if you used one on him. Tends to be the one fucking you, but the idea of you fucking him (with a real dick or no) does more to him than he'd like to admit.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

He doesn't mean to tease, honest! He just loses himself in you, loses track of time. If you whine at him and try to scold him for it, he'll apologize breathlessly, but sometimes he can't bring himself to move on. He's just fascinated by you, smitten by you.

If you want some payback, he's not hard to tease. Will whine if you hold back, beg if you stop. If you edge him, he'll do a mix of the both, his words slurring and his languages mixing together into a near unrecognizable mess. But you usually find it in yourself to be merciful. Usually.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

Quite loud - the volume of his moans are usually on par with yours. He moans sweet things in your ears, trying to stay coherent, but it usually turns into a mess of English, German and Austrian German. Starts to ramble, and the words you are able to understand are usually somewhere along the lines of "ah, fuck, scheisse, you feel so good, ah, so fffuu-uhuh-ckinggood, I don't want to stop, I can't stop, m-my love, please, liebling, you take me so well, please don't stop now, I beg you, don't stop, I- ah!"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

As far as blowjobs go, there's only ever been one that has been able to take all of him in their mouth - a man almost his own size that offered to go with him to the men's room back at base during some downtime right after a mission. The man had happily gotten down on his knees, opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out and let him grab him firmly by the head and throatfuck him against the stall door (König can still remember the sounds - if anyone else heard them, they never made it known). He would enthusiastically offer himself up a few more times, to the point where it almost became routine after missions. But then one day the man was gone and König just didn't see him again.

He's confessed this to you, worried that you might not want to be with him anymore, but you jokingly/not-so-jokingly suggested that maybe you should find another guy who can take him like that again, and his mind has been running wild ever since.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

He is most certainly big, definitely, however he is not wielding some sort of horsecock. Sits somewhere around 7-8 inches, thick enough to stretch you out and fill you up, but not so thick that you feel like you're about to split in half.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

Wants you nearly constantly, but usually leaves you to initiate. He can only hold off for so long, however, and once he's at his whit's end, he'll start touching you, running his fingers along your arms at first, then your waist, then his hands are gripping at your hips and he's breathing heavily into your ear, whispering to you how badly he wants you, will you please let him have you?

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He will actually fall asleep rather fast if you tell him to lay with you for a bit longer before you clean up, which is why he usually declines. He wants both of you to be clean and fresh so that you don't have to deal with the icky and uncomfortable clean up that happens if you let it dry. Once clean, though, he'll happily crawl back into bed with you and either have you rest on top of him like a little blanket, or lay his head down onto your chest, and he'll be out like a light before you know it.

#cod konig #cod könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #cod mw2 #cod x reader

[peachesofteal]

Trick or Treat

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick/female reader 1.8k words For @glitterypirateduck's GAZFEST Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. No smut but contains suggestive themes, slice of life, dad!Kyle, light angst, fluff/comfort. Brief character appearance from another series. I didn't use a prompt for this but it is a one shot.

Trick or treating is an odd custom. 

You feel this way, because like Kyle, you didn’t grow up in a place where knocking on doors for candy was a predominant tradition. Halloween was celebrated, surely, but dressing up as little ghouls and running around, screaming ‘smell my feet’ to your neighbors was just… not a thing when you were a child. 

Times have changed though, since you were young. Customs have floated across the oceans. They have melted into new traditions, new practices that took over schools and playground chatter. 

“I wan’ ta be a ghost!” Oliver’s little face beams up at you as he clutches your hand, skipping beside your body with boundless energy, crisp brown leaves crunching beneath his heels. 

“A ghost?!” you gasp, fake fear making him shriek with giggles. “That’s too scary!”

“Naw it’s not!” it’s a playful protest, and you when you turn the corner, he forgets all about the allure of trick or treating for something infinitely better. 

The sight of his dad standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. His dad, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three weeks, waiting for him. For you. 

He takes off into a sprint.

He’s only four, but fast, and you stay on his heels as he flings himself into the arms of his father. 

“DADDY!”

“Don’t you look the part.” Kyle murmurs, heat creeping up your neck into your cheeks when his hands graze your waist. He ducks under the brim of the black, pointed witch hat you managed to find last minute, and presses his lips against yours. You savor him, soaking in everything, the smell of his skin, the remnant flavor of sweetened peppermint on his tongue, the heat of his body pressed to yours. 

Everything you’ve been missing. 

Everything you’ve ever needed. 

“Do you like it?” you croon, and his hands lift the edge of your shirt, just enough so that his palm lays flat against you, kneading against your hip. 

“It’s… bewitching?” He tries the word before the crack of a smile forms, a breathy chuckle, amusement at himself blooming across his face. 

He stuns you. Still. Even after five years. Even after being married, having his child, being separated across continents for too many too long stretches of time. 

“I think-“ you’re about to tell him that you’re thinking about after trick or treating, when Oli will be asleep, when the house will be quiet and dark, all of the candy given away, the candles blown out. When his body will be flush with yours in bed, and you’ll push and pull one another into a daze of pleasure. 

He’s been home for a week, but the longing, the wanting never stops. It only builds, desperate to drink up as much of him as possible, eager to hang on to everything he gives you before he goes again. 

“I’m ready!” Oliver’s shout interrupts you, chiming over some camp Halloween music crackling in the background, finally ready for his grand entrance even though you got him ready over a half hour ago, and Kyle huffs a laugh into your neck before you both pivot to where your son stands on top of the stairs, clad in his very fancy, brand new Buzz Lightyear costume. 

“What's this?” A perfectly packaged Buzz Lightyear costume sits on the kitchen table, and Kyle rubs the back of his neck. 

“He ah- didn’t want to be a ghost anymore.” 

“What?” The dog barks from the backyard, pulling a glance from you to where Oliver plays with her, where they chase each other around in circles in the dusk lit grass.  

“And I couldn’t tell him no…” Your husband tries to explain sheepishly, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, you’re not really good at that.” His hand envelopes yours, lips pressing to your knuckles. “That’s alright though.” You know he feels guilty. He feels the weight of his absence, feels the pain every time he comes, or goes. 

You try to hold it for him. The sadness. The remorse. The struggle. Try to put the flames out, when they grow too high, when it’s too much for him to bear. After all, Oliver was a decision the two of you made, together.

Sometimes you succeed in lessening this weight that he carries.

Sometimes you do not. 

“Okay, hold still!” you hurry backwards, lining them up in the frame on the front step, flanked by the poorly carved jack o lanterns, the jagged teeth and uneven eyes glinting at you from where the LED lights flicker inside their hollowed-out guts. 

Oliver grins, looking between you and his dad, who crouches beside him, holding him close in an embrace. They have their arms around one another, and they're so happy, so sweet, that you have you hurry up and blink your tears away before Kyle’s super senses catch on. 

You click a million frames of the same photo, just in case, selecting the second one to send off in a group message. 

>Buzz and his favorite Sergeant go trick or treating!  >Soap: I thought I was his favorite Sergeant?  >Price: Enjoy, make sure you get some of the good candy for yourselves!  >You: Of course, and we will! Soap, send pics of Bee in her costume and the fam!  

The response comes fast, a picture, a selfie in an elevator. Soap’s got a half full pillowcase in one hand, and the phone in his other, their partner standing behind him, her fingers folded over his waist, face beaming and bright as she smiles up at the camera. Ghost looms next to her with a little girl curled up against his chest in a homemade bumblebee costume. 

Kyle barks out a laugh, and types out a quick reply. 

>Kyle: Who made that costume? I know it wasn’t you, Soap. >Ghost: It definitely wasn’t. 

“Muuum!” It’s an impatient whine, and you slide your phone away, handing him his plastic pumpkin. 

“Alright, rules.” Kyle begins, the tone of his voice serious enough to jog Oli’s attention immediately. “Stay with us at times. No running too far ahead. Mum or I should be able to see you, yeah?” Oli nods agreeably. “No crossing the street without a grown up. And say thank you at the door.” 

“But wot if they give me apples?” 

“Say smell my feet.” Kyle deadpans and Oliver’s eyes go wide, while you smack your husband’s bicep lightly. 

“No! You still say thank you. Buzz Lightyear likes apples, you know.” Oli deflates a bit, and Kyle laughs, pulling him in for a hug. The little boy melts, still content to just be cuddled and held by his dad, even though he tells everyone he’s a ‘big boy now’. You try to memorize the sight, something to think back on in a few weeks when your bed is empty again, and there’s one less setting at the dinner table. 

“What are we waiting for?” Kyle pats Oliver on the back, and then the three of you take off down the street under the orange glow of All Hallows Eve. 

“He’s cleaning up well.” Kyle muses. Oliver runs down the sidewalk, pointing at his orange globe with pure excitement. 

“Mmmm.” You hum your agreement, pulling your jacket a little tighter. It’s gotten cooler since the sun went down, and the crisp fall air nips at your skin.  “Cold, love?” A warm arm goes around your shoulders and then tucks you in tight, close enough that your face can nestle into his clavicle. “I’ll warm you up later.” He murmurs and you roll your eyes. 

“You’re so cheeky sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do.” He’s solemn when he says it, but his eyes twinkle, mischievous streak simmering just beneath the surface of his enchanting gaze. 

“No question where he gets it from.” Kyle’s fingers touch your temple and then swipe down, glancing across your cheekbone before he’s cupping your face fully, tilting your mouth up to his for a dizzying kiss. 

“You’re not so well behaved yourself.” He chides between the slide of your lips, and you smirk into it, nipping at him when he deepens the kiss. Your heart glows in your chest, warm, happy, sated, and you melt into him, content to be swallowed in the bliss of his touch, his love- 

Oliver screams. 

Everything happens at once. 

Oliver screams, and you both recognize it immediately. You gasp, moving to turn away but you’re too slow, far too slow compared to Kyle. You feel the strength of his body, his muscles turned to action in your grip, and then nothing, save for his absence. 

He’s already gone. 

He’s already over the fence, and up the little yard of the house where you son stands with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

There’s a bowl of candy on chair next to him, and as you get closer, you notice that it has one of those animatron hands in it, the ones that snap forward and grab someone unsuspecting when they reach for a treat. 

Oh. Your body sags with relief. Your heart slows to a slightly elevated pace. 

“You’re alright, shhh. I’m here. Dad’s here.” Kyle has Oliver in a hug, and he rocks him side to side, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly. “Just had a scare, is all.” Your son’s crying relaxes, and he sniffles, keeping his face pressed into Kyle’s chest, hands clutching at him. When Kyle moves to stand, he lets out a frightened cry, and your husband is quick to comfort him, shushing in his ear as he holds him tight. “I’m right here.” He coos, rising with the boy in his arms, looking at you over his head. 

“I think that’s enough for tonight then.” You whisper, leaning forward to peer at Oliver’s sleepy and tearful face. It’s late, well past his bedtime, and he’s already hit every house on the block, filling his little jack o lantern to brim. “Let’s go home?” Kyle nods his agreement. 

Your fingers intertwine with his during the walk home. He holds you, and his son, the entire way, until the front door is swinging open and the two of you are lowering Oliver into bed, tucking him in carefully and kissing him goodnight. Kyle strokes a gentle touch across his cheek, and you volunteer to do the clean-up downstairs so he can linger there, sitting by his son’s bed, watching over his sleeping form. 

When you’re done, and the lights have been turned off, the jack o lanterns no longer flickering in the night, the street nearly quiet, Kyle pulls you into your bedroom.

“Want to leave the hat on?” He raises a brow, and you smother a giggle before pulling the pointy hat off your head with a flourish.

“Trick or treat?” He steals the question from your lips with his, pulling you downwards, burying you between his body and the sheets. 

“I love you.” He whispers against you in the dark, mouth tracing a map across your skin. “Happy Halloween, my love.” 

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #gaz cod #peaches writes

[bubuslutty]

hc: witch!reader x 141 (+ Ale, Rudy, König, Horangi) as monsters

A monster's high

word count: 1.5k

tags: they/them pronouns, poc friendly, 3rd person pov, proof read by me so sorry for any mistakes, nsfw, fluff

warnings: a bit of body horror

a/n: i initially meant for this to be fluffy but uhhh I guess I'm a whore 🥰 enjoy either way!!! 💙 pls if u wanna see anything pls let me know, cuz I just want more excuses to talk abt monster cod mw2 guys!!

Soap (werewolf):

Johnny has a habit of scenting his witch when they have to go somewhere without him, and he claims it's to keep them safe from other monsters. but does he really need to rub his face all over their tummy and ass??

Johnny's witch takes care of him during his ruts by brewing him teas for his stomach aches. and provides him with their worn clothes so he can have familiar and comforting scents around him when he's rutting.

Soap also likes to hang out with his witch during nights on a full moon, so he can turn and run in the forest. and sometimes they even play catch with him, by throwing a stick and he runs after it, getting it for her, for pets and praises, tail wagging and all.

Ghost (symbiote):

Simon Riley is pretty cool, kind and pleasant to hang out with, Ghost on the other hand is dark in a weirdly attractive way (monster fucker alert). Ghost doesn't really have a form, they're just a mass of black matter that merges and melts into Simon's pores, but also has a voice of its own.

Reader has gotten used to Ghost jumping in on conversations when they're talking with Simon. And has even gotten used to Ghost threathening (flirting) to eat them (??). While Simon always apologises about Ghost, reader hasn't figured out if Ghost wants to eat them literally or sexually.

Reader has also gotten used to walking around Simon's place and being suddenly pulled into a dark corner by a cold tentacle attached to Simon's symbiote. Then asked in a very ominous voice "Can you get orange juice from the corner store? Simon can't, too tired."

Reader shrugs and nods, "Okay." while being held up in the air by dark matter.

"Thank you." Ghost whispers, their voice raising all the hairs in reader's body.

Price (Dragon hybrid):

he can breathe fire, but doesn't allow himself to so he satiates the urge with cigars. Breathing fire is a hazard and can put others around him in danger, and he can accidentally destroy his belongings by allowing the tickle of a flame leave his throat.

But sometimes he slips up, for example when he's balls deep in reader (don't ask me how we got here). They were curious about what it'd be like fucking a dragon hybrid and how can Price say no to those pretty eyes?

It happens when he's about to orgasm, and he feels fire tickle his throat, and when he can't swallow the urge back, he throws his head back and let's out fire escape his lips, blowing it upward so it doesn't catch on anything.

And then when reader realises what he just did, he gets shy about it. Usually he doesn't spit fire when he fucks someone, but reader doesn't need to know that.

Gaz (Crow harpy hybrid):

first of all, Gaz has the prettiest, softest feathers. They're black but Show different colours when lights hit them in different angles. And reader spends a lot of time just admiring them and caressing them while he plays his favourite video game.

And when they accidentally press on the feathers a bit too hard, he jumps and grabs their wrist, "Don't do that again, please."

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." Reader apologises

"You didn't, they're just a bit sensitive… That's all." Gaz mumbles and they nod, resuming caressing his feathers in the gentlest way possible as Gaz resumes his game and tries to ignore the tingle at the base of his spine, making him shudder and heat up.

Horangi (Tiger shifter):

at first he scared reader because when they first met him, he was in his tiger form napping in the living room when reader walked in, completely clueless with a bunch of ingredients for a potion in their arms, "I got the-"

They used all of their strenght not to drop everything in their arms because the ingredients are expensive while they stood, facing a sleeping tiger, taking up the whole couch.

The tiger quickly noticed their presence and woke up, lazily blinking and letting out a big yawn, revealing a sharp set of teeth and reader readied themselves to cast a spell if the tiger was to ever attack or try anything.

The tiger kept staring at reader until they got bored and stood up on the couch, and shifted just like that, fur flipped into pink soft skin and bones reshaping themselves in real time.

And so reader was face to face with a naked man in the middle of Soap's living room.

König (eldritch):

König wears a huge diy'ed mask on his head, covering red and black smooth salty skin and tentacles. Sometimes he lets them hang outside the mask, poking and prodding this and that when he's comfortable, but most of the time they're hidden, out of sight.

Reader has yet to figure out where all of his tentacles come from, they know they come from his head, from the area that would be considered his chin and jaw if he had one, like a beard that has a mind of its own.

They've seen peeks of König shirtless a couple of times, but couldn't see any extra limbs or tentacles coming out of his skin, so how earth does he manages to wrap them in huge long tentacles? Where do they come from??

They've asked König of course, but all he did was smile, his eyes shaping half moons, patt their head and walked off without a word.

Alejandro (werewolf):

The only other werewolf in the bunch apart from Johnny. This man has also an obsession with scenting reader after Johnny scented them just to get a rise out of him.

He's territorial of course, very protective and loves to bite and nip at reader when they let him. Be it their hips, waist, tummy or ass, he'll happily sink his teeth in any part of their body as long as they let him.

He's also allergic to wearing clothes when the sun shines, if Alejandro senses that summer is very near, he'll strip to his boxers and hang around in all of his tan and hairy glory.

And reader is only human, when they see him like that, their heart skips a beat and they quickly leave the room Alejandro or otherwise he'll somehow smell them getting aroused.

And Alejandro doesn't even need to smell their arousal to know they're affected, because he can hear their thumping heart when he focuses his hearing.

They also try to avoid him when they've had their back blown by a local resident monster (only Soap's pack tho, no one else or they'll (141 & Co.) have a mental breakdown lmao) because he can smell the cum plugged inside them. and even when they've showered, washed away all traces of sex, he still can smell it underneath all the soap, lotion and body mist. And when he does smell it, he corners them and bullies them into telling him how it went down while they whine and beg him to let them go (they actually love it dw guys, ale would let them go as soon as they express real discomfort)

Rudy (human):

The second human in the pack after reader. While reader is a witch and in tune with the spiritual and supernatural world, Rudy can't feel shit. like nothing at all. everyone might be on edge because they can smell someone's heat and he'd be sitting there absolutely oblivious, at least reader is knowledgeable enough to know the signs of a heat or rut without smelling it.

Reader might be reluctant to go somewhere because they feel like the vibes are off, or the place is cursed and haunted, and Rudy would shrug and go in to retrieve whatever must be retrieved.

Rudy could be checking himself out in a mirror while a spirit would be looking right back at him and reader is just standing there, uncomfortable while he hums and fixes his hair and the spirit is highly confused because how the fuck isn't he being seen by the dumb very handsome human?

He's the type of guy who'd brush off any attempt at scaring him or cursing him without a second thought, a witch would try to curse him by planting a little pouch under his door matt and Rudy would absolutely have no idea and would never step on the matt at his doorstep because his legs are long and he never needed to step on it in the first place, he even has another one inside his house as well, it's just there to look nice really, so the curse never took effect in the first place until reader shows up and hisses in disgust, immediately finding the pouch for Rudy and throwing it away.

Even when a demon is actively trying to cause him nightmares, Rudy doesn't even notice because every night our boy passes out on werewolf knot, brain melted out of his ears, he barely has the energy to open one eye so it's impossible for his brain to conjure up dreams or be active enough so the demon can plant nightmares into his head.

I imagine Rudy getting his organs rearranged in the nastiest way possible while the invisible demon is just standing there like 🧍‍♀️😐 waiting for Rudy and the werewolf, who is probably Ale to be done so he can give him nightmares.

He's our unbothered King and I love him very much.

tag list (pls ask to be added or removed): @canadianmilkbag @angryandreadytokill @obiwankenobis-lap @goapgrim @smalldemonlover @silviafantin15 @reveluving @bobastayhigh @originalsimp @h-leigh @gxldyjess @msdrpreist @chaoticevilbakugo @Lacunaanonymoused @whore4dilfs @canadianmilkbag @ahoeformando @ray-rook

#cod mw2 #call of duty #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #john price #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #alejandro mw2 #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo parra x reader #alejandro x rodolfo #König #horangi #soap mactavish smut #gaz smut #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz #gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod smut #bubuslutty writes #cod #captain price #task 141 #141 x reader

[imbeingchokeholded]

Getting Clean

I need to be put into jail, stupid Scottish bitch.

Anyway this is probably lowkey just gonna be smut completely lmao.

I promise the soap pun titles will end.

Also so sorry this took so long because my mind is an enigma and writing for either the COD fandom or the RDR2 fandom has been deleted out of my mind.

Lets go lmao

WARNINGS!: female reader because im a woman and soap makes me yell real loud (nothing against him being shipped with male readers or 141, good for him what a king), NSFW, fuckin, im so bad at warnings just know its gonna be fuckin happenin, choking?? Voice kink???? Breeding kink for SURE. Just major NSFW basically porn with negative plot. Like... .5 plot.

Scottish slang/words may be inccorect due to using google, so please lemme know if its wrong, I'll happily fix it.

I am so sorry for spelling mistakes i finished this at like 2am

The mess hall seemed way too empty, everyone was out on missions, covert, recon, whatever, and while there was a shit ton of others there on base, without most of the 141 team it just felt....wrong.

You sigh and look at your food. It's not that it's bad food. In fact, it looks delicious, but sitting alone, at this massive table that usually you shared with Ghost, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro, as well as Soap, just made you feel...down.

They were easily the people you were closest too on base. Working so closely with them it was only a matter of time before it happened. All of you were close friends, it was rare for any of you to stray from the group and talk to anyone else.

So today, sitting in the mess hall, was no different.

You stare at the food a little longer, and poke it around with your fork, that strange foreign feeling in your chest.

"Aye Lass, lookin' at it like tha' cannaé change how it tastes."

You smile and twist your head to look at Soap as he nears the table, a tray of food of his own in his hands.

"Johnny! I didn't know you were here!" You smile wider as he takes a seat next to you, and chuckle as he takes a bite of food from his tray.

"Ah, I jus' got back from a mission not too long ago, Price is givin' me a wei break."

You nod and smile at him, your heart seems a little lighter now, someone who you're far closer to now with you.

Plus it was Johnny, how could you not be happy around him? He was the obnoxious fun loving one of the group, he could be serious yes, but it was rare. Most days he joked, laughed, spat out witty sarcastic comments at everyone who passed.

You supposed that was part of the reason you'd grown to have such deep feelings for him in the first place.

Of course you'd never tell him that, you were far too nervous to do that.

Handsome, sweet, a deep voice, which had a Scottish accent on top of it? You could listen to him speak about nonsense for the entire day.

Sometimes missions with him were absolute hell.

He did his job, he was a good Sargent, he knew what he was doing, trained properly, getting things done the way they needed to, but his commentary....

That damn voice of his, he didn't even need to be next to you, all he needed was that voice and his stupid little sarcastic quips.

Hell, sometimes it wasn't even in comms.

He'd yell out something simple, that shouldn't have been attractive, yet it was.

Something as simple as "Changing mags!" Could make your face heat up and turn a violent red, hell, he basically growled at the end of the sentence whenever he said it. Being near him was almost like having a bomb strapped to your chest. Threatening to go off at any second.

Everytime he said "Steamin' Jesus" you couldn't help but imagine him using it in a far more intimate senario, with a slight change of tone, and that never failed to send a flood of warmth between your legs.

You swore that he knew what he was doing too, like he could sense the tension between the two of you, or see the red on your face, but if he did he never brought it up, and for that you were thankful.

Trying to explain fraternization to Price would not be a fun experience. Not only that but bringing it up would probably make you flustered beyond speaking ablity.

"Hey, Y/N. I been talkin' yer fuckin' ear off, you still listenin'?"

You shake your head and look at him, your face feels hot and you're sure you're crimson.

"Ye alright Lass?"

That stupid nickname makes the blush worsen and you simply clear your throat.

"I'm fine Soap. Thinking."

"You can call me Johnny off duty." He laughs. "You usually do....ya nervous about something? Just a wei bit?"

His voice carries a bit of teasing tone and you can't help but feel a bit if irritation at the smug bastard.

"Not nervous, no."

"Ah, not nervous, yet red in the face....Aye...I got yer number bonnie."

He snorts and then continues to eat.

"Really?" You cross your arms and look at him. "Do you now MacTavish?"

"Pretty obvious if you ask me." He shrugs.

"Okay, so tell me then."

Your face burns at the sudden burst of confidence, and as a smirk crosses over Johnny's face you suddenly feel very foolish about what you've just said.

"Lass...tha's not very appropriate for me to say here, where anyone could hear....now is it?"

That smirk stays on his face as he lowers his voice to a low whisper as he gets the last few words out.

You swallow, and your face burns deeper.

"I don't know what you mean Johnny."

"I'm sure." He offers you a laugh and then stands, the look in his eyes makes your body shiver. "I think I'll head to my room...feel free to...visit, if you'd like."

You watch as he walks off as though nothing had happened and your entire body seems to shiver.

He sticks his hands in his jean pockets as he walks away, which you obviously noticed, because of course you did, with an ass like his.

What the hell are you gonna do? Follow him? How the hell did he figure you out so quickly? Did he mean what he said?

Little did you know Johnny was thinking similarly.

"What the hell were you thinkin'? Saying somethin' like that? Y/N does NOT feel that way about you, you probably just fucked somethin' up, fuckin' idiot."

It takes you only a matter of minutes before you stand from the table and head after Johnny, towards his room in the base.

Your heart is thumping so loudly its the only thing you can hear.

Your body seems to be reacting on its own though, your thoughts, while dirty and definetly in need of some....cleaning....ironically, are wondering what'll happen to your friendship afterwards, but your body doesn't seem to care.

Your mind races with the thought of what would happen if you were caught too, it wasn't exactly professional to fuck your coworker in the military.

When you reach his door you breathe deeply, hesitant as you raise your hand to the door. You stopped for a moment and then, you knock on the door.

Johnny opens the door nearly instantly, only a matter of seconds pass before the door knob clicks and he stands in the doorway before you, leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you.

"Tha' was quick Lass."

"Shut up, let me in."

"Aw...c'mon now...be nice..." He lowers his voice, whispering the last two words, a smug smirk coming over his mouth.

You feel a rush of heat through your chest and look to your feet, your entire face seems to burn, your ears even feel as though they're burning.

"Please Johnny?"

You feel his hand come under your chin and he lifts your head to look him in the eye, not gently but not rough either.

"Try again Lass, look me in the eye."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Please let me in, you stupid Scottish fuck."

"Tha's not very nice...thought I said be nice..."

You clench your jaw and stare at him, that smug grin on his face somehow managing to irritate you and make you horny all at the same time.

"Please Johnny? Let me in?"

"Ye really do want me, don't ye? Dinnaé know you felt so strongly towards me.." He smirks at you and the moves aside, dropping his hand from your chin to let you in.

You look around his room, staring at all the posters and things he has lined up on the walls. Considering this was Johnny's room....you expected it to be far dirtier, less organized, yet as you looked around at the rest of his room you noticed everything had a place, everything was neat, he didn't even have dirty clothes on the floor.

Neat and organized....despite his very chaotic and uncooridinated nature.

You're busy looking this over, viewing his room when he comes up behind you.

He leans in close.

"So, you were havin' thoughts then?" He smirks, you can feel it without even looking at him. "You? Havin' thoughts...innocent little Y/N always focused on the job Y/N....havin' thoughts like those....and about me..."

His voice lowers, it's nearly a growl, and a hand wraps around your waist, his fingers slide gently under the bottom of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach, only just barely.

"Naughty...naughty..."

You look down, your face is completely red, scarlet, and it burns hotter than you thought possible.

By looking down you didn't really account for the fact that, that would only leave your neck open, and it takes all your will power you have not to make a sound when you feel Johnny's lips agains the skin there.

"I'm suprised it took you this long to notice Johnny." You breathe out, hoping your voice wouldn't give out on you.

He stops, his lips still gently placed against your skin as he speaks.

"Really now....been very noticable has it Hen?"

The nickname sends a shiver though your spine, though you know the word itself isn't the issue.

"I think so..." You breathe. "Can't you tell when my voice changes over comms sometimes?"

"Ye get that flustered...over comms? Ye don't even see me.."

He chuckles and presses another kiss to your neck, you're sure the next one he offers will be brusing.

"Not my fault..." You mumble. You've almost collapsed against him, leaning your body weight onto him, though he doesn't mind in the slightest.

"Really now...now...can ye explain to me what it is on comms that makes things so hard to focus then Hen?"

"Why must you make things difficult?"

"Difficult?"

He laughs at you and then stands up straight, his hand leaving the skin of your stomach.

He moves to his bed and takes a seat, nearly plopping down, he sits with his legs open and slaps both hands on his thighs, leaning forwards.

"It isn't difficult, it's a really easy question now Lass."

You cross your arms and look at him, watching as he leans back a little a simple smirk on his face.

"If ye really want somethin' tonight Y/N, yer gonnae have to tell me."

That smug look doesn't leave his face, rather it seems like it only gets worse as he utters out your name, emphasising it, lowering his voice as he does. To add to this you watch as his hands leave his thighs, palms upwards in a sort of shrug gesture.

He knows what gets you flustered over comms. He knows, you know he knows, but you also know he's gonna make you say it.

"You damn well know what it is Johnny."

"Oh I do, but it'll be much better when it comes out of yer mouth, preferrably with your face all red."

You swallow and look to the floor, keeping your arms crossed as you speak.

"I swear sometimes you do it on purpose. You do those damn jokes, say those fucking statements and you always lower your voice, especially if you know I'm listening. I told you how I liked your accent ONCE and now you use it everytime you can."

"Aye, I do." Again, as before, you can hear that smirk on his face. "I'll admit it. I take every chance I can."

You scrunch up your nose, refusing to look up at him.

Theres silence for a moment and then you hear him shuffle, only then do you look up.

He simply catches your gaze and makes a motion towards himself with his two middle fingers, pretty much beckoning you towards him.

Despite the stubborness you've shown earlier you can't help but follow his silent command.

As you reach him and stand inbetween his legs his hands creep over your thighs, fingers curling around the back of them, squeezing the meat of them, tightly, firmly. Just the right amount of pressure.

He looks up at you, his face a little more serious now, the smirk from earlier still lingers, but it's far less noticable.

"Ye know Y/N, I've thought about having you in here....a lot."

"Really?" You stop a moment, your body tingling, stemming from his fingertips outwards. Your mind seems a little fogged. "I thought....I thought maybe you'd invited me in here today just to...well honestly I thought you were just fucking with me Johnny, but...I couldn't just ignore it."

"Nae, no fuckin'with you, no this time."

"So...does...um...does that mean..." You swallow, struggling with your words. "Look....Johnny I think it's obvious I've liked you for a while now...are...if we're really gonna do this...I...what does it mean? Anything? Just...are we fuck buddies, or something more because...."

Your words trail off, you can't help but cross your arms, a sudden burst of what you can only assume is nearly shame creeps up through you.

Johhny's face changes, subtly, but you catch it, and you don't miss the squeeze he gives your thighs either.

"Hen, once I get a taste of you I don't think I could have anyone else."

He's quick with his movements as he slides his hands up towards your ass, and pushes you slightly closer to himself.

The action he does next is a simple one, yet it sends all kinds of feelings through you.

His tongue touches the skin of your stomach, his hand gently pushing your shirt up out of the way. He licks a stripe upwards, keeping eye contact with you as he does.

"Jesus Johnny...."

He offers a chuckle and grips your hip with his free hand just a little tighter.

"I'm gonna ask this once Bonníe," he looks at you, only a small trace of a smile on his lips. "Are ye sure ye wanna do this? I'll stop if ye say stop, but after this I won't ask again."

Your thoughts swirl in your head for a moment. Wondering if it is what you wanted. If it was worth chancing your friendship, chancing your job, getting caught fraternizing is no small penalty.

In the end your body decides for you.

You nod.

"I do."

That smile of his fits on his face slowly, showing off those pearly whites. His surprisingly sharp canines.

His tongue comes out once more, again licking up your stomach, this time he stands as he moves himself upwards, only bringing his mouth away when he reaches the area just below your breasts, letting your shirt fall back to its original place.

When he finally stands his mouth goes into good use, his lips meeting yours with a feverancy, practically a need. He fists your hair, and darts his tongue into your mouth without any hesitance.

His free hand snakes around your body, finding purchase on the plump of your asscheek.

You let out a moan against his lips which in turn pulls one from him.

Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, grabbing onto any part of him you can.

His hand nestled within your hair offers a tug, pulling your head back, taking your lips from his and exposing your neck to him.

His lips latch onto your throat, open mouthed hot kisses against your skin, making your body shiver, tingle. His tongue licks along your skin, warm, and again...hungry.

"Johnny..." You whine out his name, and your body flames up, a part of you is curious as to how he'd gotten you so needy so quickly.

The other part did not give a shit.

"So pretty when you whine like that Bonníe..."

He smiles against your skin, moving towards your jaw, still dragging his lips along your neck, refusing to leave it.

"Maybe we should see if I can get any more out of ye..."

"Johnny...we have to be careful..." You mumble. "We...we can't be caught-"

"Yer right Lass...that might even be more fun..."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes seemed to darken with the idea that begins to plauge his mind.

"Let's see if ye can keep from screamin' huh?"

"Johnny-"

He cuts you off as his hand come up around your throat, offering a gentle squeeze to the sides as he begins to push you down to the bed.

"Do yer best for me Love." He gives you that goddamn smirk again. "Stay quiet...Can ye do that?"

You nod, your breathing becoming heavier as he stares down at you, hand still wrapped around your throat.

"Atta girl."

He coos out the words and everything in your body seems to be completely englufed in flame.

"You this charming to every girl you fuck Johnny?"

You breathe out the words, hands moving to his chest as you settle against the mattress.

"Jus' you Lass."

Rough hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, bringing the shirt along with him.

His thumb glides up the center of your torso, pushing down slightly as he continues his movement, his other hand only leaves your throat when he needs to remove the shirt fully.

Your bra is taken off with seemingly expert practice, your breasts exposed to the air, but quickly they're found by hands and mouth.

A rough palm on one and a wet mouth sucking and licking the other.

It takes all your power not to moan, your back arching up into the feeling.

You hadn't been aware of just how touch starved you'd been.

One of your hands tangles into his mohawk, attempting to hold onto something of him.

He looks up at you, pulling away from your breasts.

"Nae, I dinnae say ye could touch lass."

"Johnny-"

"Shut tha' pretty mouth lass...see if ye can be quiet yeah?"

You nod, swallowing as he reaches for your pants. His fingers hooking under the waistband as he unbuttons them with the other.

With one swift movement he's pulled both your jeans and panties down, leaving you bare to him.

"Would ye look at tha'...such a bonnie sigh', Love..."

He smirks and moves in, hands finding your inner thighs, bringing a sigh from your lips.

Before you can say much else you feel a swipe of his tongue over your heat, already you were slick, this was certain to make the problem worse.

His grip on your inner thighs gets a little tighter as he continues with you, he moves his tongue with expertise, eating you out as though he's a man starved.

"Johnny..."

You can't help but let his name slip out, grabbing the sheets beneath you, squirming your hips against his face.

He looks up at you from his position, and even in his eyes you can see the smirk he'd wear.

It's far too soon that he pulls away, you'd been so close to your climax, so close to having that release, until he'd denied you that.

Again you whine his name, and he moves, climbing over you, grabbing your face with one hand, firmly holding your cheeks.

"Aw lass...wei bonnie...are ye feelin' a wei bit needy?"

You nod, the best you can in his grip, moving your hips against his clothed arousal, hoping for even a little bit of friction.

You give a nother small whine, this one more of a sound than that of a noise, again reaching for him, only for his other hand to pin your wrists above you.

"Ah...I told ye, nae touchin' lass"

You simply look at him, unable to do much in your senario. It's then that he kisses you, deeply, his tongue gliding against yours, the taste of your own slick in your mouth.

He lets go of your face, only to rushedly un button his pants, his problem suddenly a bit more annoying than it had been.

The moment he's free, his pants and boxers disgarded he simply looks down at you, seemingly thinking.

Its then that he grabs you by the hips and easily, effortlessly, flips you onto your stomach, running his pointer finger and thumb down your spine for a moment.

"Ye look so good from this angle love..."

He leans over you, his chest to your back, head angled right next to your ear.

He lowers that damn voice of his again.

"Can ye be a good lass fer me and arch jus' a wei bit... chest down love, ass up."

Of course you do as he asks, or rather tells, like its instinct, pressing your chest further into the bed, raising your rear higher into the air.

He leans back, taking a look at the sight in front of him, his hands going to the flesh of your ass like magnets, squeezing gently, your ass and hips, as though he can't decide which he likes better.

"Look at ye...such an obediant little lass...ye like doin' what yer told do ye? Is tha' why ye like rankin' under me? Enjoy the way I order ye around on the field? Makes ye think..."

You don't answer, focused on the feel of his hands, its only when he moves one of those hands to the back of your neck.

"I need an answer lass."

"Yes, yes I do Sir."

You can nearly feel the smirk on his face, he squeezes the back of your neck a little tighter.

"Sir?"

"Yes sir."

"Oho...I like tha' lass..."

He grabs both of your asscheeks again for a moment before you feel one leave only to feel him push into you.

You let out a groan as he pushes in, as much as you can take, to the base, you feel incredibly full. He's girthy.

"Fuck Johnny..."

You murmer.

"Nae...yer gonna call me sir from now on Love..."

You swallow, waiting for him to move.

"Do ye understand me?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good lass."

He gices you this praise and gently he moves his hips, his hand pushing your spine back into that arch you'd subtly moved away from.

His hips move slow, almost painfully so, and he knows this, teasing you with his hands gliding over your back.

"Ye look so good lass...all this jus' fer me..."

"Johnny please...."

"Aw lass...what did I jus' say?"

"Please...sir?"

"Tha's better....use yer words bonnie...what is it ye want?"

"Faster sir, please?"

You hear the small beg in your voice, sure that by the end of all this you'd be begging a lot more.

"Tha's a girl."

His hand moves to your hip, gripping hard as the other moves to your hair, grasping the roots of it, giving a tug as he moves his hips a little faster, filling you with his size, over and over again.

It's only a minute or so before he seems to loose that idea of torturing you, his pace picking up, hips snapping against yours, that slap of skin on skin, the squelch of your arousal ringing in your ears.

"Fuckkk y/n...." It comes out in nearly a growl, and he pushes your upper half further into the bed.

"Yer doin' so good bonnie...so fuckin' good..."

Another maon crawls its way out of your throat, the others you'd managed to quell, small sounds here and there, but you can't stop this one.

You push your hips against his, letting your knees spread further apart trying to get him in at a deeper angle.

"Please sir, please, fuck-"

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can register what you're even trying to beg for, your figers clench at his sheets beneath you, they smell like him, everything smells like him.

"Y/N..."

His voice is a groan, it's all you hear as he shifts your position, yanking you up by your hair, bringing your back to his chest, thrusting himself upwards into you.

"Johnny...fuck!"

You find your arm going over your shoulder, wraping around the back of his neck, trying to find purchase on something

His lips latch onto your neck as though he's drawn to it, his tongue swiping over your skin and his teeth leaving bites along your throat and shoulders. He breaths hard against you, inhaling your scent.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

He groans, his pace picking up a little further, one hand still brusingly on your hip, the other slides down your front, fingers finding your clit easily.

It brings a moan to the surface of your lips, and rather than being scolded Johnny simply murmers another praise of 'good lass' in your ear, his hips snapping against yours, rythmic.

"Johnny-"

"Y/N..." He huffs, his fingers going faster against your bud. "'M close...need ye to tell me where..."

"Inside Johnny, please...fill me up..."

"Jesus Y/N..."

His voice is breathy, heavy against your skin as he continues, his hips getting erratic, until finally he gives a groan, shoving his face into your shoulder, riding out his climax, the feeling of his cum hitting your inner walls pushing you closer to yours.

He rides out his, moving his hips slightly, much slower than before, and keeps his hand going, trying to keep his previous pace.

"C'mon lass...ye can let go now...it's yer turn..."

He mumbles, breatheless.

It's not much longer of this praising and the movement of his fingers before you do just that, squeezing around him and moaning out his name as you finally reach that high.

As the two of you come down, breathing hard, Johnny still inside you, head leaning against your shoulder, he slips an arm around your waist and offers a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Thank ye lass..." he murmers. "Tha' was fun."

"Thank you Johnny."

"Ye ain't gotta thank me...I've wanted to do tha' for god knows how long."

"Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Oh trust me lass...we will be."

#cod #soap cod #johnny mactavish #cod mwii #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader

[bigassmoonchild]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2k

The first part does give context, but isn’t required for this read.

Summary: You knew the difficulty the process of being a mated Omega in the military. You understood how much you would lose, but you never thought about the difficulty in your normal life. Never thought about the panic you would have, or how much it would effect you and Ghost's personal relationship.

Content Tags: Hospitals, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I was not expecting such a good response to Maple Syrup, and since y'all seemed to like it so much here's basically the next part. Let me know if you want anything specific, my asks should be open. <3 I'm adding a 'keep reading' link to make sure you can scroll on if you want.

Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Everything felt wrong. Ghost wasn't injured, but he was being held overnight in the medbay. The Maple Syrup had run its course through him, but he could hear chatter echoing in the room. He could smell you, you weren't too far from him but he wasn't allowed to see you. Price had come in not too long after the doctors had checked him over and cleared him, arms crossed as he sat in the chair next to the bed Ghost was in.

"We'll need to talk, you know," was the only thing Price had said, leaning back and relaxing in the chair.

"Is the Doc okay?" Ghost asked, looking in the direction your scent was coming from. The sickly sweet smell of heat was becoming stale, but you were on lock and key just in case any Alpha soldiers tried to come in. Price looked in the same direction, giving a faint shrug.

"I'm going to be updated once she's steady enough for the doctors to leave her alone," Price said. "Gaz is on watch outside her room," Ghost nodded. Gaz was a Beta, so it would be fine for him to be that close. Ghost still didn't like it, he didn't know how his pack was, where everyone was, if everyone was safe.

It took a few hours, it was well past midnight before any movement came from the direction of your room. The curtains surrounding Ghosts bed was moved, the Doctor gesturing for Price to follow him. Ghost had tried to listen in, but it wasn't worth it. He was still in mild pain from the mission, the place where the tranq had stabbed him still throbbed every so often.

Price walked back in some time later, looking at Ghost with a sigh. That didn't make him feel good, panic started to flow through him, thoughts of you dying flashed in his mind for a few moments.

"She's gonna be fine," Price started. "They got her heat back under control, they're just waiting for it to finish cycling through her. Outside of that, she's fine," Price sat next to Ghost. "I can't ask you about what happened. I can only tell you what will happen," he looked away.

You woke up, head foggy and throbbing with a headache. You could see a form moving next to you, checking your vitals. You gave a soft groan, your neck throbbing alongside your core. Everything hurt, but you weren't able to tell if it was everything.

"You finally waking up?" The voice asked, and you could recognize it. "You've been out for a few days, you've even had Ghost trying to get in," she giggled a little. Amanda. That was her name, she was one of the nurses you'd been working with prior to the mission that went south.

At the mention of Ghost, you sat upright, vision spinning before righting itself.

"It was a really bad heat you were sent into, y'know. Took us a few hours to stabilize you, but you're doing good for yourself," she smiled, trying to lay you back down but you pushed her off of you.

"I need to talk to him," god even your throat hurt. She nodded slowly, sticking her head out of the door. You rubbed your head, headache now making you feel sick. It took a few moments, but you heard footsteps come in the room, a figure standing next to you. When you looked up, it was Price.

"There are some procedures we need to go through. I've already got some officers in, but we still need to talk about what happened," Price started, moving to sit in the chair near you. "Ghost has already spoken with them, so it'll be you, me and the officers. I think Laswell has flown in as well," you stared at Price.

With a few blinks, you looked down to think. Ghost had already spoken with the officers? You knew what the rules were like, and you knew that your career was now in his hands. It pissed you off, if you could really focus on feeling much outside of pain.

"The officers are trying to get him to make a decision on your career. I can't let you two talk about anything yet, the Adjutant Officers still need to figure things out before you'll be allowed near each other," Price looked away, your jaw tensing. You really had no rights anymore, did you?

It took another few days before you were released. The second you had clothes of your own to wear, you were gone off into your room.

Someone had been here. You could smell a stale scent, but you weren't able to place it. It was too distant to be able to decipher, but your room was exactly the same as it had been left before you were hospitalized. You didn't feel comfortable in your room, knowing someone had been here.

A knock on the door made you spin, nerves set tight. As you opened the door, a large figure came into view.

"Doc," Ghost started, before being yanked into your room and having the door slammed behind him. You turned on him, staring at him sharply. You pointed, opening your mouth before shutting it and groaning, running hands through your hair.

You kept trying to start talking before you stopped yourself, eventually kicking at the wall in irritation.

"What did you say to them?" You hissed, back still turned and facing the wall. You could hear him shift behind you, boots scuffing against the ground. You turned, storming up to him, chest to chest. "What the hell did you tell them? You gonna dismantle my career? Make me some fucking house-omega?" You were growling now, you could feel your muscles tensing.

When he didn't respond, you groaned, tossing your hands up in defeat and walking away from him. You turned, hand on your hip, waiting for a response.

"I don't want to take your career away," he whispered, finally. You barked a laugh, rubbing your wrist against your bitten gland. His hand reached out to grab you, but you moved away from him. "I don't want to make decisions for you," he added, voice growing more desperate.

You shook your head, pulling your hand away from your gland and shaking them out. Ghost reached out to you again, hand catching your shoulder before you shrugged him off.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered. "I'm terrified, because now I'm outed to so many people, and there's quite literally nothing I can do to save myself," you turned to look at Ghost.

He scoffed. "You think I'm going to ruin things for you? I've already told you, I don't want that kind of control over you," he looked away, crossing his arms. You could smell the distress on him.

"You have done shit to make me trust you!" Your voice raised before dropping, a hand running down your face. "I have zero control left, you know how many rights I have as a mated Omega?" He shook his head. "None," you glared at him.

Ghost glanced at you before looking away again. He shook his head, moving to leave before you blocked the door from him.

"You don't get to walk out when we're talking," you growled at him and he growled back.

"This isn't a conversation, this is you getting all pissy on me," he loomed over you, forcing you to take a step back. "I didn't want this to happen, I would have chosen any other way to save us, but we didn't get a choice, did we?" You looked away.

"Get out,"

He could smell the distress on you the second he spoke. Your scent left him spiraling, he was panicking. His Omega was distressed, and he was the cause. He wanted to fix it, correct the problem and make you happy again.

Ghost could do nothing when you repeated yourself.

"Get the hell out," you glared at him. Ghost opened his mouth to give you a retort, but you had turned away. He bit his tongue, turning to stare at the door.

"You know that's not what I meant," he whispered, opening the door and leaving.

Even after walking aimlessly for ten minutes, he could still smell your distress on your scent, the sour taste stuck on the back of his throat. This wasn't how he had intended to talk to you, he wanted to make a plan for when they asked him more questions regarding your career.

Ghost was pissed off, more so with himself than you, but he wanted to comfort you. Fix what he had said, take it back.

But he had a meeting to attend, and he needed to make sure he didn't say anything wrong.

You sat in the conference room, Price, Laswell and an Adjutant officer sitting across from you. This was the third time you'd gone over what had happened.

"So you say this 'Maple Syrup' is what caused Ghost to go into a feral rut?"

"Yes," you deadpanned, glaring through the Adjutant. "We've already been through all of this, there is literally nothing else that I haven't told you," the Adjutant hummed.

"We need to make sure everything is covered," he told you, looking at the paper he had been writing on for the past hour and a half.

You looked at Price, hoping he would help you in any way. He looked away, leaning further back into his seat.

"What about my career?" The room went silent, the Adjutant stopped reading, glancing over at Price who had finally looked at you. "I want to know what's happening," you whispered. The last few days had left you unsure of yourself. You wanted to confront Ghost, you wanted to apologize for snapping at him, you wanted to fix what you'd said.

None of them spoke, Laswell had opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking a deep breath. Her fingers tapped on the table, looking at Price and the Adjutant.

She looked back at you. "You aren't allowed to make any decisions regarding that, you know," your head dropped back with a groan, wrist rubbing against your bitten gland roughly. You were terrified, you didn't know what the future was going to hold.

You had so little control and it was getting worse. You stood abruptly, going to walk out the door before Price spoke.

"Would you like to speak with Ghost?" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. With people around, you wouldn't snap on him, but you also didn't want to see him since his last remarks. You really needed to know if you still worked here, or if he was going to force you to become a house-omega.

You nodded, turning around and sitting back down while staring Price down as he made a phone-call. A few moments later, Ghost walked in and sat beside you, but you still couldn't look at him. It was silent for a few minutes, everyone looking at each other, waiting for the first to speak.

"You still have a job here," Ghost spoke up. "I didn't let them remove you, but they won't allow you on missions anymore," he added the last part quietly. You nodded.

You could hear Price and Laswell ushering the Adjutant Officer out of the room, the door closing with a click behind them. Neither you nor Ghost talked for a few minutes, you could smell a certain level of stress on him.

"Thank you," you whispered, glancing quickly at him. He was staring at you, eyes watching your every twitch and shudder. "I'm... sorry, for the other day," you fiddled with your fingers. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ghost shook his head, hesitating before grabbing your hand, pulling it close to him and in turn tugging you towards him. You finally turned to look at him, and his eyes visibly softened.

He looked down, then back up to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did. Not in the way I did," he tugged you even closer to him, nuzzling into your gland. "I don't regret having you as my mate now, but if I could've changed what I did, you wouldn't be stuck with me making decisions for you now," you leaned in to him, pressing your face into his chest.

It relaxed you, his scent, and allowed you to think much clearer.

"I'm just so scared,"

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#mild angst #hurt/comfort #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #no use of y/n #task force 141 #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty mw2 #modern warfare ii #reader insert #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega verse #i'm on season 2 of batman now #definitely not beta-read or edited <3 #i've had a migraine all day #mentions of price #mentions of gaz #Maple Syrup