#Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader x John “Soap” Mactavish

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Summary: Things begin to develop in your new relationship with Simon, but luck is so rarely on your side.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,074

Warnings: Slight NSFW, suggestive content, kissing, dry humping, anguage, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, Ghost’s emotional constipation, angst, a wee bit of horror at the beginning, also a lot of feet in this chapter (gross), oh yeah and did I mention ANGST

A/N: Please don't hate me

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It’s far too quiet. You can hear the air blowing through the vents, the quiet hum of the fluorescents in the hallway. You push yourself up to sit, the blankets falling around your waist. It’s still dark out, the blurry time on your clock reading just past 2 AM. You’re not quite sure why you’re awake, aside from the eerie silence that has settled over the barracks. 

You push your blankets back, shivering as you leave the warm, cozy comfort of your nest. You shove your feet into your slippers to avoid the cold floor before standing, making your way slowly to your door. Something feels wrong, something feels off. You’re on guard, listening, waiting for a sign of whatever is causing such a reaction. 

The click of the lock on your door might as well have been a gunshot in the silence, the sound almost echoing. Any chance of stealth is out the window, so you’ll have to be prepared to run in case something happens, in case something is waiting for you on the other side of the door. How something or someone could have gotten in without the guys noticing is beyond you, but you suppose nothing is impossible. 

You crack the door open, peeking out through the gap, but you can’t see anything. No one’s moving around, no one’s waiting for you on the other side. The urge to hold your breath is strong as you step out of your room, the silence almost deafening. It’s too still, not even the sound of snores coming from the other rooms. The stillness is eerie, sending a violent shiver down your spine. 

You take a cautious step towards John’s room, moving on your tiptoes to avoid making any noise. You don’t really want to wake him two hours before he normally gets up, but you can’t stand the feeling crawling beneath your skin. Even if you just slip into bed beside him, it’ll make you feel safer in this ominous atmosphere that’s settled over the barracks. 

The sound of shuffling breaks the silence, making you freeze mid-step. Your breath catches in your lungs, muscles tensing as you pray it was just your imagination, or perhaps your own movements that disturbed the unearthly quiet. Time seems to still as you stand there frozen, your heart pulsing in your ears. 

The sound of shuffling unmistakably echoes in the air again. You don’t care how much noise you make as you take off running to John’s door, throwing it open in hopes it wakes him immediately before whatever it is that’s creeping around the barracks finds you. 

His bed is empty. 

It’s made up like he’d never slept in it, the sheets tucked in pristinely, and the comforter perfectly in place. He’s not in the bathroom either, the door cracked and the light turned off. You walk backwards out of his room, wondering if you had read the time wrong after all, or maybe if he’d just not gone to bed in the first place. You opt for Kyle’s room instead, hurrying to his door before opening it. 

His bed is empty too, made up just as perfectly as John’s. You’re beginning to panic, your heart thudding faster than it had been before. Your shaky hands fumble with Johnny’s door across the hall, his room empty and more organized than you’ve ever seen it. You even check Simon’s room, a place you’ve never seen, a place you’ve never been in, but it’s empty too. 

Simon’s clock tells you it’s too early for them to be up, too early for them to go to their training. They wouldn’t just leave you like that, would they? Not even a word or a goodbye? You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you stand in the middle of the hallway. Maybe there was an emergency. Did they say anything about doing training tonight? Maybe this is training, maybe they’re testing you and what you’ll do if they ever disappear. Maybe they want to know exactly what you experienced when they left you the first time. 

You turn as the shuffling sound gets louder, a quiet whimper leaving your lips as you spot the figure standing at the end of the hallway. It’s dark, the lights at the end of the hall off. They’re never off, the lights in the barracks always on no matter what time it is. Tears sting your eyes as you stare at the shadowy figure at the end of the hall. You can’t see their face, you can’t tell who it is, but something in the back of your mind whispers that it’s not one of your packmates. There’s nothing familiar, no comforting warmth at the sight of them. 

Fear nearly blinds you as the figure begins moving down the hall, the lights going out one by one as he gets closer and closer. You’re hyperventilating, your brain screaming to run, but your legs are frozen. You’re alone and there’s nothing you can do. You’re alone and about to die, or worse, and no one will know. It could be days before anyone finds you. The thought of your pack returning to find your mangled body has a sob tearing from your chest, your scream dying on your lips as the darkness finally reaches you. 

You jolt awake with a gasp, your heart thudding violently in your chest. You’re shivering, not just from the terror still pulsing through you from the nightmare. The blankets are still pushed down to the end of the bed, leaving you naked and unprotected from the eternally cold barracks. 

There’s a heavy weight against your pelvis keeping you from shifting your position, or even sitting up. The aching in your hips and lower back is starting to register as your brain becomes more and more aware of reality. A glance downward reveals your legs are still tossed over Kyle’s shoulders, the position you’d been in before you fell asleep. Kyle is asleep too, his face squished against your pelvis as he snores quietly. 

A quick glance at the clock reveals it’s just past 2 AM, your breath catching in your throat. The dream had felt so real, the sensations, the feelings. You pinch yourself, the pain in your back and hips not enough to make you believe you really are awake and not stuck in some nightmare still. 

“Kyle,” You whisper quietly, trying to shift, but the hold he has around your thighs is stopping you. “Kyle.” You say a little louder, shaking him gently. 

He lets out a quiet grunt as he jerks awake, lifting his head from your pelvis. He smacks his lips, releasing one of your thighs to rub at his face. You immediately free that leg from his shoulder, groaning quietly as you straighten it out. The crack of your knee is loud, Kyle blinking blearily up at you as awareness slowly returns to his brain. 

“I think we fell asleep.” You say quietly, still shivering from the cold and the terror remaining from your nightmare. You’re tempted to reach out and squeeze Kyle, just to ensure he’s really real, really here with you. 

“Fuck,” He breathes, untangling himself from your body, pushing himself up onto his kees as you straighten out your other leg, sighing at the relief of finally being able to move and stretch your cramped body. 

He moves from between your thighs, giving you more room to move and readjust yourself into a more comfortable position. You push yourself up higher against the pillows, sighing at the ache in your lower back. 

“Pussy so good it knocked me out cold.” He grins, settling himself down next to you, his hand coming to rest on your stomach. “Fuck you’re freezing.” He frowns, finally noticing the subtle shivering of your body. 

He pulls the blankets up, tucking both of you in before wrapping himself around you like a koala. You turn onto your side, tucking yourself into his hold. He lets out a hiss as your feet touch his legs, his arms tightening around you. You press your cheek to his chest, listening to the quiet, steady beat of his heart. A shiver runs down your spine as the nightmare replays in your mind, feeling just as real as it did when you first woke up. 

You’re not entirely sure it didn’t happen. 

You know it couldn’t have. You woke up in the same position you fell asleep in, legs thrown over Kyle’s shoulders, his head between your thighs. He’d laid there, lazily lapping at your folds after making you cum three times until you both drifted off from exhaustion. It might have been embarrassing, had it not been for the time Johnny fell asleep still inside you moments after his orgasm. You had been stuck under him until he inevitably rolled away, starfishing himself as best he could across the small bed. 

“Kyle?” You whisper quietly, not wanting to wake him again if he’d already fallen back to sleep. 

He grunts softly, likely half asleep. 

“You wouldn’t leave me without telling me, right?” You ask, not sure if you’re going to get an intelligible answer in response. 

He shifts just slightly, his arms tightening around you. “Of course not.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll always tell you, love. Wouldn’t just disappear without letting you know first.” 

His words end in a yawn, but they offer a sense of comfort to you. You know you might not always have much notice ahead of time. Sometimes they don’t even get a lot of time between finding out about an assignment and when they have to leave. John had warned you about that, that they might have as little as an hour between. They’ll always make sure you know, though. They won’t just disappear into thin air without so much as a goodbye. 

It might be their last. 

You push that thought from your mind, squeezing your eyes shut as you breathe in Kyle’s scent, praying for your mind to go blank.

It’s like being around a wild animal. You’re not quite sure what to do. You’re afraid to move too quickly, to startle him. Despite the confession, despite your intimate moment on the couch in the rec room, you still feel like you’re dancing around him a bit. You’re not sure where the boundary lies now, what’s okay and what’s going too far. 

He sits closer to you now. On the days where you sit between him and Johnny at breakfast, you’ve been close enough to brush arms with him. He stares at you more now too, but less in the way one stares at an annoying fly buzzing around the room, and more in the way one stares at a painting or at the TV when they watch their favorite sports team. 

He walks slower now, side by side with you, close enough his hand brushes yours every so often. The thought has crossed your mind to reach out and take it just to see what he would do, but you’re not sure you could handle the rejection if he didn’t want it. You feel very much like you’re tiptoeing around him, afraid to push too far but unsure of where the line stands. 

You could just ask him, but you’re afraid he might laugh at you, that he might think you’re stupid for just not knowing. He’s so intune to you. You saw proof of that in the lingerie store, and how he always knows when you get uncomfortable in the mess. You wish you could read him like that, that you could be as intune to him as he is to you. It might be his training, his years of developing the skills to be attentive to every detail, every scent, every emotion. Or maybe that’s just him. After years of living the way he did growing up, you’d imagine he’d be good at knowing when someone is upset versus when they’re not. 

He could probably read you like an open book, and yet he’s like a locked safe in an armored vehicle. You’d sooner be able to see through concrete than you would be able to figure out Simon Riley. 

“You have to put your feet there?” The low timbre of his voice cuts through your thoughts and you look up at him from where you’re laying on the couch. 

He’s staring at you from his seat in the chair, book in hand. You’re laying on your back on the couch, your legs propped up over the arm with your feet right next to him. You could probably reach out and touch his shoulder with your toes if you tried.

“‘S comfy.” You say, going back to your own book. 

It’s quiet in the barracks, just the two of you occupying the rec room. John had taken Johnny and Kyle out to do some kind of training or something. You had only been half listening to Simon as he entered the rec room and joined you in the quiet space. 

“Well, they stink.” He says, pushing them away from his arm. 

“They do not stink.” You say, moving your book aside as you pull your foot towards your nose to smell it. “Liar. My feet are perfect.” You move it back over the arm of the couch, putting it closer to him than it was before. 

“Eh,” He stares at your feet for a moment. “I've seen better.”

You gawk at him, looking offended. “Who's?”

He huffs out a laugh. “Johnny’s.”

You pause for a moment, thinking back to all the times you've seen his feet. “You're right. He does have beautiful feet. How does he manage it?”

“He gets pedicures every few weeks.” Simon says, staring at his book. “Usually goes when we return from assignments too.” 

You gape at him. “And he's never invited me?” 

“Don't think he's gone since you got here.” Simon shrugs. “Kyle was the one to put him on it. They go together sometimes.”

You continue to stare at him, mouth hanging open in shock. You wouldn't have guessed it. Kyle, it made sense for him. He takes better care of his skin and body than even you do, but Johnny too? 

“He likes the massaging part. Says it makes his skin extra soft and smooth.” Simon shrugs. You can imagine Johnny trying to convince Simon to tag along, but the mental image of the giant, imposing alpha in a nail salon nearly makes you laugh. 

You shake your head, picking your book back up. “I mean, it makes sense, taking care of your feet. They're a vital part of your job.” 

“I think they're gross.” He admits, turning the page in his book. “Especially when they're so close to me.”

“Hey, my feet are clean.” You say, poking his arm. “I wash them every time I shower, thank you, and I change my socks every day.” 

He pushes your feet away from his arm, letting out a huff. “Keep your trotters away from me.”

“I was here first.” You say, moving them back close to his arm. 

“You're such a child.” He says, setting his book down.

“I am not-” The last word cuts off in a shriek as he suddenly grabs your foot, tickling the bottom of it. 

You giggle and shriek, trying to pry your foot from his hand, kicking out with the other. He catches both, tickling the bottoms of your feet. Your book drops as you twist and wiggle, tears gathering in your eyes from laughing. 

“Okay, okay!” You say, managing to pull away from him and sit up properly on the couch. “You win.”

You pick your book back up, curling up against the arm of the couch as you try and catch your breath. You know he's storing the fact you're ticklish away for later, and had you looked up, you would have seen the slight crinkle at the sides of his eyes indicating the smile hidden beneath his mask. 

“Something’s going on with those two.” 

“Yer right. It's odd.” Johnny says, leaning against the sink in the bathroom. “They're so...comfortable.”

“Not one tensed muscle or nervous glance.” Kyle says leaning against the wall. 

“She's sittin’ close tae him too.” Johnny says. “I think my plan worked.”

“The panties?” Kyle's brow raises. “There's no way a pair of panties changed things this much.”

“It's not just the skids. Tha’ was the push they needed.” He smirks. “They did the rest themselves.” 

“I can't believe it.” Kyle shakes his head. “What if it's just a fluke? She was there first and he chose to sit there by chance?” 

Johnny shakes his head. “Simon always sits in tha’ chair.” 

“What if she was too nervous to move after he sat there.” Kyle argues. 

“Well, there’s only one way to find out what they’re really feeling.” Johnny says, moving towards the door. 

Kyle follows him out of the bathroom and into the rec room. You don't look up as they enter, Simon barely glancing over the top of his book before going back to reading. Kyle and Johnny share a look before they join you on the couch, Johnny taking the seat next to you. 

“Have a good afternoon, kitten?” He asks, stretching his arm across the back of the couch behind you.

You nod, glancing up from your book. “Yeah, just been reading.

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, staring at you. “That all?” 

“Mhm.” You hum, continuing to read. “You can turn on the TV if you want.” You say, not even giving him the chance to ask the question. 

Johnny turns away from you, glancing at Kyle before grabbing the remote off the coffee table. Kyle shrugs, settling into the couch as Johnny flips through channels. You and Simon continue to read, your body curled up against the arm of the couch, closer to Simon despite Johnny’s arm still draped nearly across your shoulders. 

A small smile tugs at Johnny’s lips, a pleased aura nearly radiating off of him. Normally you would be sitting as far from Simon as you could, and you would have leaned into Johnny as soon as he sat next to you. Now you’re sitting as close as you can to Simon, and staying that way. Johnny’s not even upset by you unintentionally ignoring him. 

He’s just happy his plan worked. 

It’s not just existing around Simon that has changed since his confession and your moment in the rec room. Training has also changed. Things feel different, stranger between the two of you. Despite the partial lowering of the barrier, it feels as if there’s a thicker one between you. Is he dancing around you as much as you are dancing around him? Are both of you fumbling to find where the new barrier lies? The thought is comforting, that he might be struggling with this as much as you are. 

He avoids touching you as much as possible during training, only adjusting your stance when necessary. You haven’t done much on the floor either, instead his focus is on working on your kicks and punches again. 

He’s as stone-faced as usual, the tenseness back in his body as you throw punches at the bag. Your knuckles hurt and you’re quickly getting tired between the lack of sleep due to your nightly activities with the other members of your pack, your nightmares, and also the thousands of thoughts causing turmoil in your mind. You just want to know where you stand, you just want to know where that boundary lies. You just want him to talk to you. 

You’re tempted to throw a punch at him just to get him to do something.

You take a step back from the bag, taking a breath. You want to confront him, ask him every burning question in your mind in a place where it is less likely someone will walk in and see you or overhear. You’re not sure how much longer you can stand this, how much longer you can do this dance before you lose it. You need to know, you need to place that boundary somewhere so you can stop worrying. 

“You’re in your head again.” Simon says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “That’s going to get you hurt someday.” 

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have to be in my head so much if you’d just talk to me.” You snap, starting to get frustrated. 

He shifts on his feet, his shoulders tensing just slightly. Your words and obvious frustration striking something within him. 

“I just...I need to know what we are...where we stand,” You continue. “I need to know what we’re doing, what’s okay. I feel like I’m just tiptoeing and dancing around you and I can’t stand it.”

He shifts on his feet again, staring at you blankly. You need him to say something, anything. It’s not often he’s been quiet, speechless when you’ve confronted him. You know you’ve put him in a place like you did in the rec room, cornered him in a vulnerable position. You also know that’s where he’s most uncomfortable. 

“I...I don’t know.” He says, obviously scrambling for words, for something to answer you with. 

“Well, it would be nice if you figured it out, because you’re stressing me out here.” You sigh exasperatedly. “I just...don’t want to make you uncomfortable or do something that’s going to ruin things.” 

“I don’t think you could do that.” He says, shifting on his feet again. 

You blink at him in surprise, not expecting that to be his answer. “I-I don’t-” 

All thought of moving or defending yourself is out the window as he moves, knocking your feet out from under you and sending you sprawling on your back. He’s on you instantly, pinning you against the floor. Your breath leaves your lungs as you suddenly find yourself face to face with him, close enough to see the shades of brown in his eyes. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been teasing me, torturing me? How badly I’ve wanted to touch, to feel, to get a taste for myself?” His face lowers towards yours, and you’re certain if he hadn’t been wearing the mask, you could have felt his breath on your lips. “Weeks I’ve been forced to sit and listen to you with the others, wishing it could be me, wishing I could have that with you without the risk of breaking you, of ruining everything.” 

“You’re not going to break me.” You say quietly, trying to reassure him like you did during your chat in the rec room. “I’m not made of glass.” 

“I can’t...I can’t risk ruining things for everyone.” He shakes his head, pulling back just slightly. 

“What makes you so sure you will? Have you even considered the fact that I want you too? I’ve been waiting for this for so long. Hell, I would be happy if you just wanted to be my friend. I’ve been trying so hard for weeks just for your approval. I never even thought...” You shake your head. “I never even thought you’d feel like this about me. I thought you hated me for so long.” 

He’s silent for a moment, staring down at you, his eyes searching yours. “I tried to. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t.” He lets out a long breath. “It’s not fair to either of us, it’s not fair to the rest of the pack if we keep doing this. It’s fucking us up, I’m fucking us up. I can’t focus anymore. I damn near killed Johnny when I caught your scent on him after you fucked him before training.” 

Your face warms at his words. Of course he’d smelled like you, of course they knew what he was up to. “Well, it’s more like he fucked me... It was his idea.” You shrug. 

“Christ.” He breathes, his eyes darkening just a little. 

“You don’t have to hold back anymore.” You say. “I-I’m sorry I never noticed, I didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

“Wasn’t your fault.” He murmurs, leaning in close again. “My own damn fault for being so stubborn.” 

“You don’t have to be anymore.” You breathe. “It’s never too late to start.” 

You stare up at him as he hovers over you, chests brushing with every inhale. You’ve been this close before, been in this position before, but it’s never felt quite like this. The intensity between you is greater, not just a test of your will, of your strength when it comes to resisting an alpha’s imposing energy anymore. You don’t want to fight him, you’ve never wanted to fight him in this position. It makes sense now, every time he’s forced you out of that headspace during these moments hadn’t just been to keep you focused on training. 

He’s been holding himself back. 

“I won’t be gentle.” He says, his voice rumbling through you. His words are honest, spoken in truth. You can see it in his eyes, silently conveying the reality if you decide to continue. It’s a warning, a chance to turn back. He’s offering himself up raw and unfiltered. 

“Maybe I don’t want you to be.” You counter, eyes fluttering as you stare up at him. “I don’t need tenderness, someone to comfort me, to pick up the pieces. I’ll go to John if I need that. Maybe I just want you to be yourself.” 

A low growl rumbles in his chest at your words, his eyes darkening as he stares down into your shining ones. The back of your neck prickles as the energy shifts, the tension between the two of you coming to a head as the wall keeping the two of you apart begins to crumble. 

“I’m not made of glass.” You say, snaking an arm around his neck, his eyes dropping to where your teeth sink into your lip. “Maybe I want someone to be a little rough with me.” 

Another growl rumbles in his chest as he leans down even further. You automatically submit to him, tilting your head and bearing your throat to him as you’ve done so many times before in this position. He doesn’t stop you this time, doesn’t force you to turn away as he sinks down completely, pressing his face into the side of your neck. He breathes in deeply, taking in your scent from the source for the first time since your arrival on base. 

His breath is warm through his mask as he exhales deeply, his body going lax as he practically squishes you into the mat. It’s not uncomfortable, the heavy weight of him a welcome sensation. It feels like a protective barrier against the world, a comfort knowing he’d keep you safe from any physical threat that might pose itself to you. 

That is the difference between the two alphas. John can keep you safe from the horrors in your mind, offer you a comfort only your alpha can as he eases your fear and anxiety. Simon offers a protection against the physical, not that John doesn’t as well, but it feels different between the two of them. John would stand between you and a gun, while Simon would run headfirst towards the person wielding it towards you without a second thought. 

Simon shifts just slightly, pulling away from you enough to reach up towards his mask. Your heart stutters in your chest for a moment at the thought of him taking it off, allowing you in enough to see his face. You’re nowhere near that close yet, you know that logically, but the idea excites you. 

He tugs his mask up over his nose before pressing back into your throat, his hand slipping under your back to press you tighter against him. A shiver runs down your spine as his skin presses against yours, warm and slightly sweaty from training. You don’t care as he inhales deeply, taking in your scent unfiltered. His exhale is warm and shaky against your skin, his lips slightly chapped as they brush the side of your neck. 

Something twists in your stomach as he drags his lips across your skin. Your hand lifts to cup the back of his head, pressing his face further into your neck. You don’t care if you suffocate him, and he doesn’t seem to care either as his body shifts just enough for him to press his thigh between yours. 

Your breath shudders as he mouths at your neck, his tongue dragging across your scent gland. Your hips push up against his thigh in response, the friction igniting a fire in your veins. A quiet moan slips through your lips as he drags his teeth across your scent gland, your hips pressing harder against his thigh. 

“Fuck.” He breathes against your skin, his hand dropping to grip your hip as you grind against his thigh, your body feeling electric from his touch. 

Your head is spinning, your entire body alight with energy as he finally lets go, as he finally loosens that hold he’s been throttling himself with. The sensation of him is nearly overwhelming. His touch, his scent, the knowledge that it’s him. You’d let him fuck you right here in the training room, right on this mat, if he wanted to. You’re already wet, soaking into your panties as you grind against his thigh, his muscles tensing under his sweatpants. You're certain there’s going to be a wet spot against the fabric, something that can’t be explained away by training. 

The thought of him finally wearing your scent thrills you. 

His hand holds your hip, guiding your movements as you work yourself up. It would be perfect, him giving you your first orgasm just like this. Fully clothed in the training room, the place where your relationship has been tested, where the boundaries have been pushed the most. 

Alas, you’re not so lucky. You’re never that lucky. 

Both of you freeze as his phone alarm begins to go off, signaling the end of training. It forces you both back into the real world, the electric feeling beginning to fade as the moment ends and the mood in the room shifts. Simon lets out a sigh against your throat, slowly releasing your body as he pushes himself up onto his knees. His eyes are still dark as he stares down at you, your face sweaty, hair sticking to your skin as you lay there on the mat, probably looking absolutely ruined already. 

You stare at his skin, the only part of him you’ve ever seen before. You’ve tried to imagine what he might look like, trying to piece together the rest of his face from what you’ve seen. 

“We’ll continue this later.” He rasps, tugging his mask back down before pushing himself up to go silence his phone. 

You lay there for a moment, catching your breath. You never thought it would feel like that, like straight energy coursing through you. He’d barely touched you and you could have cum from that alone had you been given a couple more minutes. His promise of continuing things later has a thrill running through you, a promise of this new relationship building between you. 

Simon walks you to the mess, your face still warm from what had happened in the training room. His arm snakes around your back, his hand on your hip as he leads you to the line, his fingers tightening their hold on you every time someone passes too close. They all stare at you, all giving you looks. You can only imagine the smell, imagine what’s going through their heads. 

They all know. They think you fucked him before coming to breakfast. 

It wouldn't be the first time you walked in smelling like sex and a member of your pack. It’s just the first time it’s been him.

Your pack eyes you both as you and Simon take your seats at the table, you sitting yourself between Simon and Johnny again. 

“Bit late today.” Kyle says, giving you both a look.

“Training ran long.” Simon says, pushing his mask back up over his mouth. Your scent flares a bit as you think about what those lips had felt like on your skin. 

John eyes you both, all of them obviously picking up on the change. “I’m sure it did. Did you have a good time?” 

“Would have been even better if we’d had a few more minutes.” You shrug, trying to hide your burning face in your porridge. 

“Your punctuality has finally worked against you, Simon.” John says. 

The alpha shrugs. “Didn’t want a grumpy, hungry omega on my hands.” 

“I’m not grumpy when I’m hungry.” You pout. All four pairs of eyes at the table turn to look at you. “Okay, maybe a little.” You admit, spooning a heaping mouthful of porridge into your mouth, hoping the topic of conversation at the table changes so you can cool off just a bit. 

Your face is still slightly warm as John walks you back to the barracks. He’s quiet as he leads you across the courtyard, and for a moment you’re worried he’s jealous, or perhaps upset that you’ve taken interest in another alpha besides him. He wouldn’t feel that way. Simon is part of the pack. It’s perfectly natural for you to feel a connection with him. It’s perfectly natural for you both to want to progress your relationship. Plenty of omegas take multiple alphas in a pack. Hell, many of them are claimed by more than just one. 

“I’m happy you and Simon have finally worked things out.” He says as you stop in front of your door. 

You turn to look up at him, a soft look in his eyes as he stares down at you. “About time, right?” 

He chuckles quietly. “Yes, Johnny and Kyle were going to lock you two in a closet soon if things didn’t start developing.” 

Your face warms again just a little. “Well, it is thanks to Johnny that we got here.” 

“Yes, the skull-print underwear.” John says, smirking slightly. Of course he knows about that. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut. He probably gave them all a detailed description of what happened at the lingerie store. “I much prefer those pink lacy ones myself.” 

Your brows lift as you stare up at him. “What, these ones?” You tug the waistband of your exercise pants down just enough to show the pink lace against your skin. 

A low growl leaves John’s lips as he stares down at them, his body crowding you against the door. “Yes, those ones exactly.” 

Your breathing quickens as you stare up at him, your underwear still uncomfortably damp from your little tryst in the training room that had forced Simon to leave you high and dry. How no one else had tried to approach the table from the smell of horny omega you had been projecting through the entire mess is a mystery to you. Then again, perhaps it was your pack that had kept you safe. The threat they posed was enough for all the alphas in the room to resist the scent of your slick leaking into your panties. 

You wonder how many of them got up to sniff the bench you sat on after you vacated the mess, pressing their faces against the plastic in an attempt to satiate the effect you had on all of them. How torturous it must be, knowing they’ll never have you. An omega right in front of them and their desperation, but they can only look, as the threat of dismemberment is not worth the risk of trying to touch. 

The thought has your stomach clenching, more slick dribbling out of you. 

“Got you all worked up, didn’t he?” John murmurs, pressing his face against your throat and inhaling. “Fuck, that’s a mixture someone could get drunk off of.” 

The alarm on his watch begins to go off, and you half expect him to pull away, to leave you high and dry too, but instead he presses closer to you, his lips blazing a path up the side of your neck. 

“Don’t you have training?” You ask, your voice trembling as he nips at your jaw. 

“I’m in charge.” He says, pulling away to turn the alarm off before he grabs the waistband of your pants, tugging them down around your knees. “They can wait.” 

He spins you around, pinning your body against your door. You can feel him, hard in his cargo pants as he presses up against you, his breath hot against your ear. He drags his hips against your ass, the line of his cock brushing against the thin material of your panties. 

“I’ve got more important things to see to.” He growls, slipping his hand down the front of your body to cup your dripping pussy through the lacy pink panties. 

You should have known. You should have known things were too perfect, working out too well. Something always happens, something always ruins it. Something always comes between you, right as things begin to work themselves out, right as you begin to get comfortable. 

“I’m leaving.” 

You blink up at him, the words barely processing in your mind. “Huh?” 

“I’ve got orders, shipping out within the hour.” Simon says, almost too casually. 

It is casual to him, though. This is a normal event, part of his existence, part of his normal life. 

“The others?” You ask, the words trailing off but you don’t need to finish the question. 

“Just me.” He says, crossing the hall to open the door to his room. You follow, feeling like you’re wading through sand. 

It almost feels sacrilegious, getting a peek into his room, into his personal space like this. You’ve never seen inside, the few times you’ve walked by as he’s exiting, you’ve averted your gaze, almost afraid to try and look, to see inside his most vulnerable area. The space where he gets to be himself. 

Even now you find yourself looking away, turning your gaze down the hallway towards the door. The door he’s going to walk through and disappear for an unknown amount of time. 

“How long?” You ask, fighting the urge to look as he moves past the door. 

“Don’t know.” He answers, his voice slightly muffled as he stands behind the door, likely grabbing things out of his dresser. “However long it takes.” 

You swallow thickly. Of course this is happening now. Of course he’s leaving right when things are starting to happen between the two of you, right when you’ve started to get closer, when he’s starting to allow you in. What will happen when he returns? Will things go back to the way they were before, or will they continue as they are now? What if he changes his mind with some distance, with a chance to clear his head? 

What if he doesn’t come back? 

Your teary gaze snaps to him as he steps back out into the hall, closing his door behind him. You want to beg him not to go, drop to your knees and convince him to stay with you. He’d never do something like that. He’d never give up his job, no matter what you said, no matter what happened. He’ll always be a loyal soldier over everything. 

Even you. 

“I’ll be back,” He says, tossing his pack over his shoulder. “Then we can talk.” 

You stare up into his eyes, furiously blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “Okay.” The word is so small and broken sounding. You shouldn’t feel this way. He’s not even your alpha. 

He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours for a moment, hesitating just briefly before he straightens up, heading down the hallway. You hold your breath as you watch him go, his figure blurring as the tears continue to well up. You should tell him, you should run after him and confess, confess to everything. You should hug him, hold him just one more time because you might never get a chance to again. 

Your shoes squeak as you race down the hall, throwing the door open. The rain bites at your skin as you run out into it, the weather a perfect metaphor for how you’re feeling inside. 

“Simon!” You shout his name, hoping he can hear you over the rain. 

He turns back around to face you, both of you standing there in the rain, staring at each other. It’s soaking through your clothes, your hair sticking to your face. You can barely see him, your eyes squinting from the water dripping into them. 

This would be the perfect moment, the scene when you run towards each other and collide in the middle in a passionate kiss that speaks of weeks of longing and desire finally being released. No matter how badly you want to run up to him and kiss him, you know you can’t. You want to shout at him, tell him you love him, that you don’t want him to go. You want to confess everything, let all the walls down and beg him to stay, to leave this life behind and run off with you somewhere safer, somewhere there’s no threat of him not coming back. 

You wish you could see his face, you wish you could read his thoughts, know exactly what he’s feeling right now. Does he feel the same, or are you a fly buzzing around him again? 

“Be careful,” You shout over the sound of the pouring rain, the things you want to say fading to the back of your mind. When he comes back, if he comes back, you’ll tell him. You’ll tell him everything. “And come home safe.” 

He stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Always.” 

You turn back to the barracks, your shoes crunching on the wet gravel. Your steps are slow, your body still feeling like it’s wading through sand. You turn back, looking over your shoulder one last time at his retreating form slowly disappearing into the heavy rainfall. 

Johnny is standing in the doorway as you turn back around, holding it open. You approach it slowly, feeling like the wet, miserable rat you probably resemble. You’re glad for the rain soaking through your clothes and your hair, glad for the droplets streaking down your skin  hiding the burning tears sliding down your cheeks. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

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@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon Riley x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[konigsblog]

P!LINK COD MWII MASTERLIST (🌽)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STRICTLY 18+. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

BEWARE: DARKER THEMES BELOW.

PHOTO CREDIT: GLUTT_R ON 🐦/X

KÖNIG

riding könig for the first time (inexperienced!reader)

somnophilia with pervert!könig

taking kidnapper!könig for the first time

size difference with petite!reader and könig

“just the tip, könig.” with loser!könig

loser!könig who loses control (breeding kink)

being groped by kidnapper!könig (hole inspection)

forced breeding with pervert!könig

hope inspection with older boyfriend!könig

virginity loss with könig (virgin!reader)

letting virgin!könig use your body (virginity loss)

raped and recorded by könig

entertainment for kidnapper!könig (non-con)

raped in public by rapist!könig

incel!könig making porn for his online girlfriend

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

punishments with brat!reader and simon riley (brat taming)

relaxing simon riley with your pussy

‘obedience’ with simon riley

stepbrother!simon riley and his best friends

humping your stepfather's bulge

car sex with stepbro!simon riley

rough dom!simon riley and his fuck doll

being manhandled by your stepbrother

raped by kidnapper!simon

being filled by simon riley (breeding kink)

hole inspection with simon riley

cock worship with older boyfriend!simon

rough dom!simon x brat!reader (brat taming)

punishments with stepfather!simon

having your attitude fixed by your lieutenant

semi-clothed sex with pervert!simon

raped for intel by lieutenant!simon

JOHN ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

pervert!soap x milf!reader (morning sex)

“just the tip, i promise.” with stepbro!soap

your needy stepbro attempting to distract you

rough dom!stepbro!soap punishing you

playful!stepbro!soap and his virgin stepsister virginity loss

stepbro!soap eating you out

cuddling fucking with stepbro!soap

drunken sex with loser!soap

“fuck, don’t stop, bonnie...” handjobs with soap

being fingered by stepbro!soap

mutual masturbation with soap

stepson!soap with stepmom!reader

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

taking control over pervert!gaz

sucking off gamer!gaz

fingered by pervert!gaz

standing up sex with gym bro!gaz

riding gaz in your new lingerie

recording with pornstar!gaz

becoming a cock drunk slag for gaz

lazy, sloppy sex with gaz

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

being eaten out by john price (1)

being eaten out by john price (2)

morning sex with older boyfriend!price

spit play with older boyfriend!price

morning sex with sugar daddy!price

being eaten out by sugar daddy!price

manhandled by price

making out with price

#john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #call of duty soap #soap mactavish #cod soap #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #gaz call of duty #gaz cod #captain price #john price #captain john price #john price cod #captain john price smut #cod ghost #call of duty ghost #ghost simon riley #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #konig call of duty #konig #konig cod #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig #könig cod #tw: dark content #orla speaks #cod x reader smut

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fourteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Discussion of child loss/miscarriage and domestic violence. Oral sex - fem receiving, face sitting, Johnny is a menace as usual, Simon talks you through it, dirty talk, brief daddy kink, pet names. Nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, feelings of fear and anxiety, PTSD. Dialogue heavy. Bunny making progress. What's in a name?

When you were a child, you got caught in a storm.

Getting caught in a storm as an adult is a normal thing. It’s not frightening and foreign like it is when you’re young. When you’re a child, storms feel like hurricanes. They feel life altering, life ending. With no concept of larger, or smaller storms, it’s hard to understand how you’d make it through the to the other side.

You remember this one vividly. Your mother was on her way to work, her night job, and you were clicked into the backseat, barely awake, staring out the rain pelted window. The wind was so strong it shook the car, blew it all over the road, your mom’s fingers like rebar gripping the wheel. It was terrifying. It was like you’d never be safe, like the wind would pick your entire world up and send it crashing down into a farm field that stretched a million miles long.

It felt, somewhat, like this moment, and hundreds of moments before it. Small thorns in a life that no longer felt like your own. A far cry from the dreams you had when you were that little girl.

The thorns, the storms, had twisted you into this version of yourself, this stranger, and that’s how you feel as you stand in front of Simon, cold panic crackling through your bones.  

Your mouth opens and closes without sound coming out. You’re a fish out of water, lips parting just to swallow dry air, eyes wider than saucers.

Penny cries in your arms, but Simon doesn’t move. Johnny doesn’t breathe, and you stand alone in the silence, baby vomit on your clothes, trembling in fear.

They won’t understand. They’ll know you’re a liar. They won’t trust you. 

They won’t want you.  

“It’s not… I arranged it months ago.” You blurt, words strung together in a stream of consciousness. “It’s not like, you can just go out and buy a new passport. It takes a while, and connections, and lots of hoops and money and I-“ Simon holds his hand up.

A signal to stop.

“Give me the baby.” He says, stepping forward, arms out, and your hands shake as you pass her over, avoiding eye contact until he tips your chin back. “Take a deep breath, go upstairs, get cleaned up. When you come back down, we’ll talk. Okay?” He looks to Johnny, who nods, and then back to you, expectantly waiting on your answer.

“O-okay.”

Simon still has the passport.

It’s in front of his knee, on the coffee table, but within arm’s reach, close enough he could snatch it up in moment’s notice.

“Were ye goin’ to leave us?” Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, I… it takes a while. I arranged it months and months ago, before I even met you.” Simon frowns.

“This is not a fake, it’s a real passport. How did you get it?” Oh, fuck. Your throat is as dry as paper, scratchy and stiff, and you force yourself to spit out a coherent sentence.

“I bought it… from a guy.” Brilliant. You sneak a glance at Johnny, who’s watching with a pink sheen on his cheeks, knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He looks upset, and guilt swamps you, worry over making him feel worse in his state eating away inside your heart.

“You know a guy who can get his hands on government issued documents?” Simon holds himself very still. Nearly a statue, his eyes never leave your face, and you move your hands under your thighs to try to stop their trembling.

There’s a familiar feeling building in your chest. A twisted, gnarled root of fear, growing deep. “I… it’s… no, he’s… I was referred to him, by someone else. He doesn’t even know my real name, I’m careful, I’ve-“

“Done this before.” Simon finishes, and your heart stops in your chest.

“Yes.” You whisper. How are they going to feel when they realize you’ve been lying to them about your name? You spiral, imagining the hurt flashing across their faces, the disappointment from Simon, the sadness from Johnny. “I use a new identity, when I move around.”

“Your name…”

“Isn’t my real one.” The admission stings, but that person doesn’t exist anymore. You haven’t been that happy, fulfilled, carefree girl in too long. You don’t know her. You don’t remember her.

She’s dead.

She’s a ghost.

“Will ye tell us? Yer real name?” Simon is thoughtful from where he sits on the chair, focused, as Johnny looks hopeful. They’re both looking at you with trust heavy in their eyes, and it gnaws, burns in your bones all the way through until your real name is slipping free with a whisper.

“That’s beautiful, bun.” Johnny murmurs sweetly, and they exchange a look, something stern etching across Simon’s brow before it drifts away.

“Do you want us to use it?” You shake your head.

“N-no, I… I’m not that girl… anymore. She’s long gone.” The room is silent, and you mull it over, toss it back and forth in your mind. You’re so disconnected from the person you were when you last felt whole, when you last felt real. How will you ever feel that way again?

Something flickers in Simon’s gaze. Something severe and almost sad, a storm in the middle of a sea, a little boat with nowhere to hide, and you get lost in it, lost in him, a million lives and a million emotions clouding the space between your bodies.

He swallows, and it’s gone.

“How does that work with your nursing license?” You blink, but you’re not surprised he knows to ask the one question that will undoubtedly unravel the rest of the threads. The biggest piece of the puzzle.

“I…” Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Are you doing this? 

Do you trust them? 

It’s not a question now, you know the answer. Know why it is you’ve been sleeping in their bed, helping with their baby, living in their house.

It’s more than trust.

“I had a friend in college. Dean.” You’re really doing this. “He was really smart, and really kind, and going places. We were on different paths, but we stayed in touch. As best we could… my ex didn’t really like me talking to… anyone.” Johnny’s fingers slide across the couch, hesitantly brushing your thigh, and it grounds you, calms you. “He became a fancy, big time lawyer. Like, really big time. One of the best in Texas,” Simon’s eyes narrow, head tilted as he stares at you, before it all flits away, and he returns to stasis, “possibly the country. He… he helped me.” You pause, unsure, and Johnny nods encouragingly.

“Helped ye how?”

“I’ve been running, had been running, for a while. Years. At one point, Dean got a judge in a different state to agree to change my name, my identity, everything, and then seal the record. It gave me a chance to disappear, a fresh start to build from. Or, I thought it did, anyway. My ex is… very determined, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.”

“So, your license…”

“Whenever I get a new job, I refer the HR department to my big fancy lawyer in Texas, and he makes sure my license is accepted and they understand the circumstances. I manage the rest… on my own. The turning over of a new identity- identification documents, passports, housing, everything.”

“Do they know anything about this?”

“No. I think they probably think I’m in witness protection or something, and per the court order, they can’t discuss the discrepancy with the name on the license to anyone in the hospital. Dean makes sure of that.” You laugh weakly, but Simon doesn’t, he only studies you, laser focused. “I can’t really have contact with him anymore, because it leaves too much… out in the open, but he’s a really good friend. The best.” Tears blur your vision as you think about Dean, remembering the way he stared at you the night you turned up on his doorstep.

You were so young then. So stupid. But he gave you best chance he could, and you’d always be grateful.

Johnny reaches for where your hand is shoved beneath your thigh, and lightly tugs until it’s in his grasp, warm and safe.

“An’ ye change yer identity every time?” You nod, lips tucking in over your teeth.

“That’s what the passport is for. In most places, a passport counts for both a birth certificate and identification card, so they don’t ask for a secondary. It’s the easiest to use.”

“You were preparing to run.” Simon murmurs.

“Before Johnny became my patient, I was getting ready to, yeah.”

“Why?” You take a deep breath, but your chest feels too tight. Fear is still dripping down the back of your throat, making your stomach sick, your hands tremble.

“I knew he was here.” The words break apart into a sob, and your eyes slam shut.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into Johnny’s warm chest, a hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” You cry, gasping. “I.. I’m scared all the time. I run all the time. I d-don’t even know who I am, without it. I don’t know how to be here, or be a normal person, or have a normal conversation.”

“Shhh, yer alright, pretty girl. It’s okay.” Johnny hums, and you feel his diaphragm vibrate as he soothes you.

“I want to be with you… but I don’t know how. I’m terrified he’ll come here and- and hurt you, or Penny. That it will be my fault, like everything else has.” You cry harder, chest aching, Simon’s hands closing around your shoulders and pulling you back to tilt your face up to the two of them.

“It’s not your fault, bunny. None of it, ever, has been your fault. Do you understand?” You shake your head no, because you don’t. You’re good at running, at hiding. You’ve made a new life over and over again by doing it, and getting caught is your fault, no matter what they say.

You slipped up. It could happen again. 

“You don’t understand. I… I should have left, after he found me in my apartment. I should have left.” It sticks in your mind, playing over and over again. “I sh-should have left, I shouldn’t be here, I-“ your vision tunnels.

“Okay, okay. Easy, sweetheart.” Simon tries to settle you, but everything is bubbling up and you feel like you’re going to explode, like your skin is too tight, like you’re falling apart, all at once.

There’s nothing left inside of you, nothing left to do.

You break.

Millions of miles of denial and fear and agony splinter, shattering into shards that destroy you from the inside out.

“He’s going to kill me.” Johnny curses something thick as you sob, palm flat over your racing heart. “He t-took everything. He made me into… into this, and it’s only a matter of time. He’s going to find me again, and he… he’s-“ He cups your cheek.

“Shhh, bunny. We’re here, we’re right here.”

“No, he’s not. Listen-“ you try to pull away but Johnny stops you, holding you firm as Simon ducks into your line of sight. “Listen to me. He’s never going to touch you again, do you understand? We will never let him near you, ever again. We promise.”

“You can’t pr-promise that.”  

“We can,” Simon vows, “but… we need to know everything. What we’re looking for, who he is.”

No. You don’t know why, but there’s a barrier around Phillip’s name. Like you can’t force your tongue to make the sound, and you can’t tell them.

If they know, they’ll look for him. They’ll try to find him; you can already tell.

They’ll get hurt, or worse.

You can’t let that happen.

“I can’t.” You whisper. “I can’t.” Johnny pulls you back into his arms, and you curl up against him, his chin on top of your head. They look at one another, long glances you can’t interpret, before Simon takes a deep breath, his hand gentle on your knee.

“Bunny… do you have a child? Someone you’re trying to protect?” Your eyes slip shut, and despair grips your throat like a vice.

“No.” You croak. “No, there would have been one but…” you drag the truth into the light. “I lost it. He didn’t want it so… he got rid of it.” They both freeze.

“Sweetheart.” Simon whispers, Johnny’s arms going rigid, and you shrug, slipping away from this moment, from them.

“It was a long time ago.” You pause, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine.” Johnny scoffs.

“The hell ye are. And ye shouldnae be.” You shake between them, exhaustion settling into your bones like it belongs there, and they linger in silence with you, in the moment, letting it stretch long before Simon murmurs something and brushes his fingertips against your cheek.

“We’ll wait, until you’re ready.” You relax with a small sigh. “But if we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that means no more coming and going. I don’t want you outside this house without me, do you understand?”

“I’m going back to work.” You refute immediately.

“When you’re ready to go back, we’ll come up with a plan to keep you safe.” He says sternly, and you swallow, eyes wide.

“We jus’ want to keep ye safe, pretty girl.” Simon tugs your hand into his, and murmurs lowly.

“I know you’re independent, and you’re used to being on your own, but we’re here now. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got you.” Tears burn at the corner of your eyes.

You should tell them no, but you can’t.

You should be angry, or nervous, or even scared, but all you can feel is relief.

You don’t have to do this alone.

The house is quiet when you wake up the next morning.

It’s odd now, opening your eyes to an empty bed. All you’ve known for years, is being alone. All you’ve relied on for so long, was yourself.

But now, when your arms and legs spread wide between the sheets and you come up empty, panic flutters in your heart. “Johnny? Simon?” When there’s no answer, you stumble over the side, loping steps hauling you down the stairs and into the living room.

Johnny’s half-awake on the couch in his boxers, flipping idly through television programs. You breathe a little bit easier, and he cracks a smile. “Morning, pretty.”

“Morning.” You bend in front of him, swooping down to press your lips to his. “Where’s…”

“He took Pen to swim. She’s in classes and then has a playdate at a friend’s house after. Busy wee one, our Penny.” Fingers idly rub against the skin beneath his ear, tracing down to his collarbone.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Was waitin’ for ye.” Something dark and hungry glints in his eyes, and your knees go weak.

“Oh, w-well I can make you someth-“

“No.” He traces down the inside of your thigh, where he’s eye level, and then up, backs of his fingers stroking over the front of your panties, thumb skirting along the seam between your legs. “Not hungry for food, bun. Just for ye.”

“O-oh.” His thumb presses, just enough pressure brushing against your clit, and you gasp, hand shooting out to steady yourself on the arm of the sofa, where his head is.

His lips touch to the inside of your wrist, and he grins. “C’mere Bunny.”

“You’re still recovering.” Your fingers twist in the hem of the t shirt you grabbed off the floor, one of theirs.

“My face isn’t.” His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer. “My face is the perfect seat for ye, pretty girl. Let me make ye feel good.” Everything tightens, your chest, your heart, each blood vessel stitched throughout your body. Your clit pulses, knot in your stomach tying so tight it makes you lightheaded, agony and arousal singing together in perfect harmony. It’s a song with perfect pitch, swirling around the two of you in euphoric polyphony.

You want this. Want him. Want to let it all go. 

“Johnny.”

“Got a seat for ye,” his fingers trace over his lip and down his neck, where his throat bobs with a swallow. You can’t pull your eyes away. “Right ‘ere.”

It doesn’t take more coaxing after he tucks his fingers into your underwear and rolls them down your thighs, giving you a light pat just under your ass, shifting and arranging until you’re perched across his shoulders.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Your voice hitches on a panicked note, and he rubs your legs soothingly.

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” You choke. “Just kiddin’ bunny. Ye cannae hurt me, I can breathe just fine.” His eyebrows crinkle and crease, soft expression puckering down to where his lips part.

Let go. You can do it. You want this. Just let go. 

“I- I’m not very good with…” You gulp, chest heaving. “With sex, I uh. I don’t have good memories of it, and I’ve never… I’ve never done this.” It’s the best you can explain, in this moment, and you pray it’s enough, that he’ll understand.

“We’ll go slow.” He promises, still rubbing circles into the backs of your legs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and thighs, pressing long kisses into your skin. “Ye tell me to stop, if ye dinnae like it or ye want to stop, promise?” You nod. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’ll tell you… to stop.” He smiles, and urges you forward, palms still curved around your cheeks.

“Cannae wait to taste ye,” you move slowly, hesitantly, and he encourages gently, patting and rubbing patiently, eyes locked your face the entire time, “have been dreamin’ about it, since that day ye didnae wear any panties to work.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, playfully scandalized, heart trilling. He’s turned a miserable memory, a scary memory, into something not so bad, so easily. It means a lot, means more than you think he knows, and you’re just about to tell him when you feel heat slip across your skin, thumbs stroking down the seam of your cunt. He jerks you forward completely, until the bottom half of his face is missing, and all you can see beneath your legs is a crop of mohawk.

The first touch is heaven. He’s warm, and safe, and you melt onto him, indulging in the feeling of it all. His arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you in place, mouth sloppy against your pussy like he’s trying to devour you whole. You jerk, falling forward at the waist, one hand against the couch, the other fisted in his hair, trying to create space for him to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming you back down, nose bumping against your clit over and over as his tongue dives into you, curling up into your body.

You close your eyes. You need more friction, but you don’t know what to do, don’t know how to get it, and the longer you try to figure it out, the more you’re slipping away, kicking and fighting in darker waters.

Stay present. Stay here. With him. You’re safe. Let go. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Two factions fight one another, one trying to catapult you towards an orgasm faster than you’ve ever gotten there in your life, and the other, trying and failing to stem the memories and anxiety that bleed freely from your brain. The pleasure is mixed with pain, with nightmares, and your muscles turn to rock, eyes slamming shut.

A big, warm hand settles between your shoulder blades.

You jolt away from it, but when your eyes snap open-

You see Simon.

He’s on his knees at your side, part of your thigh now pressed against his chest. He watches you intently, sweeping over your features and down to where you’re sitting on Johnny’s face, half relaxed, half coiled tense.

“You’re in control, sweetheart.” Even kneeling, he’s tall enough that he’s nearly eye level with you, and Johnny’s free hand searches for him when he hears his voice. Simon gives him a squeeze, and then lovingly strokes some of his hair from his forehead. “Our sweet boy just wants to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“Y-yeah.. but I don’t… I don’t know how.” You squeak, burning with embarrassment, still clutching the couch. He pulls that hand free, into his, and rubs a thumb over the back of your knuckles, before placing it back against the armrest. It’s comforting, and reassuring, and he keeps the other one anchored at your back.

“Just relax.” He murmurs above your ear, now cradling your hips. “Hold onto the couch with both hands, like that- good girl.” His grip tightens, and then slowly, he starts to move you. “Find what feels good, take your time.” You roll your hips slowly, looking for the right amount of pressure, the friction you’re desperate for, and Johnny moans beneath you, his own hips flexing. “There you go, does that feel good?” Simon’s eyes are nearly black, and you nod hungrily. “Ride him just like that, don’t stop.”

“Oh my god.” You moan, tilting back. Each time Johnny’s nose or tongue rubs against your clit it’s like lightning striking in your blood, and warmth crackles around you like a blanket.

“Fuck,” Simon growls, palm pressing against your lower belly. “Look a’ the two of you, all mine.” The possession shivers across your skin and you moan, head heavy. Johnny’s tongue finds your rhythm, and then he’s flicking across your clit like he’s plucking a string, a perfect note.

“Johnny, ah…” He groans something in response, the vibration shooting straight to your brain. You tip to the side, face pressing into Simon’s neck, and he supports your weight, keeping a hand on your hip, now spread over where Johnny holds you. You're in a frenzy now, panting, chasing, rough pace only increasing with desperation.

“Good girl, rubbing your little pussy all over our sweet boy’s face. Is he going to make you cum? Can you show daddy how pretty you are when you cum?” Daddy. The word makes you dizzy, strikes you dumb. Simon’s lips press to the crown of your head, and all you can do is gasp and whine, hips jerking across Johnny’s nose and mouth, slick, lewd noises coming from between your legs.

“Oh, oh- fuck,” you gasp, fingers now tightening in Johnny’s hair, electricity sparking through your muscles like fireworks, “I’m gonna- I’m-“ You drag yourself across him, chasing the edge of oblivion, white light crackling behind your eyes as you clench them shut with a near shout. Your orgasm shoots through you, exploding every cell in your body into star light, everything heating together as your eyes roll backwards and your hips shake. Johnny grunts, still anchoring you down onto him, aftershocks rattling through your bones to your teeth. Simon pries him lose, keeping a hand on you, and him, as he pulls you back to reveal Johnny’s face.

He's soaked. Neck, chin, cheeks, stubble all coated in you, and your eyes goes wide, wicked pleasure at the sight curling in the pit of your stomach.

You did that. Your boy.

Simon chuckles like he’s reading your mind, tucking you into his chest before pulling you free and placing you in the space next to Johnny on the couch, laying down. He kisses him slowly, softly, running his tongue over his cheeks before returning to dip back into his mouth and pulling away. “Stay, ‘m gonna go get a towel to clean you both up.” He says quietly, kissing your nose before rising and slipping off into the kitchen. Johnny tries to tug you closer.

“How was that?” You can hear the smug smile and his face as he breaks the silence, and your cheeks burn.

“Really good.”

“Hmph, I was shooting for amazing, so I guess we’ll just have to try again.”

“That’s not… it was!” He laughs, and then gives you a half hug with his good arm.

“Ye were perfect, bunny. We’re so lucky to have ye.” Tears burn and threaten to spill.

“I’m the lucky one.” You whisper, and you don’t know if anything could be truer. It’s more than luck now, more than a chance meeting, a chance occurrence. It’s something bigger, something all consuming, something stronger than anything you’ve ever known.

Something bright, like the sun.

Something like… love. 

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny soap mactavish

[bunnys-kisses]

you had how many kids? (141 + more)

lost post - sorry!

captain john price -

the first time price sank his cock into you. it was game over. you are probably going to end up with at least six kids running around a big piece of land in the center of the british isle. equal split between three girls and three boys. the price genes must be strong because they all look like spitting images of their father.

price loves his wife though, he just thinks you're the sweetest thing since honey. after you put the kids to bed and you're in your bedroom, your darling husband can't help but hold onto you by the hips and maybe rub up against you. your softness, so motherly. it almost makes his mouth water. he tries to convince you for baby number seven but you just tell him that there's no way that's happening. but price is a cunning man and maybe a few mind blowing orgasms will change your mind.

simon 'ghost' riley -

your daughter was an accident. it was simon's last night at home before he got deployed again. and he spent that entire night sunk into your sweet cunt. you'd find out a month into his deployment that you were pregnant. worried about telling him, you kept it to yourself. you were anxious about the news throwing him off his game and him getting hurt. he needed to come home alive.

when he came home, he made sure he treated his missus right. while the pregnancy was a bit of a shock, he made sure he made up for lost time. and while that often had you on your back. it almost meant being spoiled by your husband. your daughter was close to being the biggest the hospital had delivered. you two would be content with your daughter, who took mostly after you. but within five years she would be going around proclaiming that she was going to be a big sister!

john 'soap' mactavish -

oh johnny was a smart man. he knew what he wanted and he got it with ease. he wanted to take you back home, settle you down in a night place in edinburgh. he was thinking in the stockbridge neighbourhood, where you and him could raise your kids in peace. the first time he held you in a mating press he knew that he wanted to be the father to your (many) children. he'd take care of ya, never let the mother of his children be without. he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, a seal of his promise. you end up with two boys, only eleven months apart (the look you got from your doctor when she found out you were pregnant so soon). they were mactavish boys that was for sure. their father's dark hair and he winning smile.

johnny does want a daughter however, he imagined she'd be a spitting image of you. while he loved his boys, there was no question about that, he thought a daughter would complete your little family. curious eyes like yours, that beautiful smile. as he kissed your neck and dug his fingers into your soft hips. maybe he could convince you in a few years to try for one.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

kyle never thought that he would've ever been a father. when he signed up for service, he didn't expect to be done with that role well beyond when it would be suitable to be a father. so your son was an accident. he could almost pinpoint the night of his conception. he was home from abroad and the two of you spent the entire night (and the following morning) becoming requited with your bodies. you giggled when he showed off his more toned muscles and his fingers got tangled in your hair. his dark eyes felt familiar, like home, under the soft light of your bedroom. The resulting time together produced his son.

you don't end up with a big family, while you two live in a decently sized home just outside the city he is content with it just being the three of you. he'd rather be the best parent to one then worse off to more. he was a good father to his son, proud of the little baby. even when he woke you both up at all hours of the night. it was life and kyle was happy. but when your son turned five, you had something to share with kyle. you were pregnant again. he had to admit, after that, the idea of having a few more kids wasn't a bad idea.

bonus! bonus! bonus!

phillip graves -

oh phillip wants a full house. he didn't buy that nice piece of land outside of houston for show. big yard, white picket fence, in a safe neighourhood (can't have you getting hurt!). he'd be living out his all american dream. so when you ended up pregnant five months after marriage with twins, he was beyond happy. he thought your pregnant body was beautiful, even well into your second trimester he was fucking that sweet cunt of yours. telling you how good of a mama you were.

phillip thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. even when the aches and pains of pregnancy come and go, he'd making sure that his wife is good. if he can't be around, he sends his shadows to make sure that you and the kiddos are alright. so expect a big, loving all american family. you'd never thought you'd be spending your twenties caring for almost five kids!

col. alejandro vargas -

alejandro wants you safe. and you being pregnant can cause some issues. it makes you a target, so you packed up your life and headed somewhere more quiet. most information about you was redacted from public and private records. he even went as far as to change your name and identification. it was for you, for him and for the daughter you eventually had. but despite that, when alejandro returned home. he was the shadow to your daughter. she knew who her daddy was. eventually when he can get out of the snare of the military, he was home. your little place in the middle of nowhere, he promised to protect you and your little bundle.

the times he visited while you were pregnant though. he loved to run his hands up and down your swollen middle. he smiled at you, almost proud of what he did to you. while you'd in the end have only your daughter, it was a complete home. and don't worry, after your daughter's birth he is more than willing to show how much he loved his sweet wife.

rodolfo "rudy" parra -

oh rudy, sweet rudy. he couldn't help himself. the first time you fucked, or rather made love, he knew he wanted to breed that pussy of yours. he was using a condom, but he could picture himself doing it bare backed. the feeling of your slippery cunt tight around him. nothing protecting you from accidents. he'd often daydream on his off time about the three kids you had. he had even picked names out for them, but he'd get your input on it as well. after all you were the beautiful woman who was carrying them. such a good wife to him.

he left the military when you got pregnant, as did you. life became less about the violent conflicts and more about raising your son. he was a quiet baby, and rudy adored him. he also adored his beautiful wife who worked so hard to give him his son. he reminded you of that often. you do end up with those three kids within a five year gap and rudy couldn't be happier.

könig-

oh, könig. he knew that you'd be carrying a big baby. like look at him, he towered over you and could easily bench you in your third trimester. so he wasn't expecting a whole army of children. one very large boy was enough for him. the 99th percentile. but he was there the entire time, he made sure that you were taken care of. he felt safe having his larger body up against yours, protecting it. he'd rub your belly with his large hand. even if you were very pregnant, you still were small compared to him.

he loves his son, obviously. the first time he held him, he almost cried. he was a father now. he had a wife and a child, a home to call his home and a place to feel safe. he was an attentive father, he was used to being up early. so you got to sleep in while he checked in on your son. he made sure to teach him german, english and a few of the other languages he had picked up. he was going to make sure his son knew all about the world. he was a proud father!

#bunny writes #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #simon ghost riley #call of duty x reader #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #commander phillip graves #phillip graves smut #alejandro vargas smut #captain john price smut #john price smut #breeding k1nk #pregnancy #könig x reader #könig #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod

[shadow4-1]

(This one is pretty dark folks, just a heads up!)

I'm imagining being Ghost's wife and being entrusted with Soap's care while he's away on active duty.

As a now ex-medic, and the love of his life, you're the only person Ghost can truly trust to help aid Soap. If it weren't for you, Soap would've certainly died anyway. You were the first to respond and stabilize him for evac despite your own life-threatening injuries. Both of you were discharged together weeks ago.

Ghost would much rather help nurse both you and Johnny back to good health, but Makarov is still free. And as long as he's free, both you and Soap are in danger.

At first, you have no qualms with looking after Soap while Ghost's away. But after a few weeks you start to realize something awful. The doctors warned you that Soap's brain chemistry had been altered forever by Makarov's bullet. You didn't want to see it at the time, but now...you have no choice.

Soap has changed.

He takes to standing in your bedroom doorway with nothing in his eyes. When he does talk, which is now rare, he's no longer a charming prince. He's abrasive. He openly admits to the thoughts that he's having about wanting to "fuck you bloody raw". He shows no hesitation or remorse for his actions, even when you try to tell him off.

He knows you're Ghost's wife. He doesn't remember much anymore, but he does remember being the best man at your wedding. Mentally though, he doesn't have the capacity to care anymore. The only thing he seems concerned about now is keeping you quiet when he fucks you hard on your marital bed. Your squealing cries make his perpetual headache worse, but when he cums inside you the pain disappears completely for a few, merciful seconds.

#call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish #soap x reader

[lxvvie]

Call of Duty: Audio Pornfare edition:

Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost are erotic voice actors/audio porn stars.

People turn to Price's audio when they want some of that Daddy Dom energy.

When they want the playfulness, teasing, and sensuality, they turn to Gaz.

When they want that carnality, praise, and the bad boy rogue with a side of Golden Retriever love, they turn to Soap.

When they want that darkness, the kind that brings out their primal desires, decadence, and degradation in husky undertones, they turn to Ghost.

And together, they're 141 Studios.

Gaz and Soap are the most visible. They're the faces of the group. Price makes an appearance every so often to leave their fans wanting. Ghost is an enigma, never showing his face and leading his fans to contemplate and wonder what he looks like.

They'll team up sometimes. Gaz and Price, Price and Ghost, Soap and Gaz, Soap and Ghost, it all depends.

But when they all collaborate together on one audio, Jesus fuckin' Christ...

They'll tease their audience with outtakes, too. It's usually Johnny's fault, making Gaz laugh with his ad-libs, or making Ghost go, "Goddamnit, Johnny," in that deep voice of his and trying not to laugh.

But when they go live, though? The thirst is real. Shit's dark on Ghost's live so you won't see anything but best believe you'll hear that voice.

#nsfw. #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty audio pornfare au. #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x reader #cod x you #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x plus size reader #x poc reader #task force 141

[greatstormcat]

So those android!141 thoughts I mentioned yesterday…

It was a posting you’d been dreaming of for years, working on the highly prestigious TF141 project. It was the pride of the British military, a team of four state of the art androids owned and operated by the SAS and CIA in a joint project. Created to go to places no human could ever reach, achieve missions no human could ever hope to, in conditions that no human could endure. And when they got shot, blown up or damaged…? Well, someone like you would just piece them painstakingly back together.

What you hadn’t expected were the long, tedious waits between their operational periods. You were no soldier, just a technical specialist, so living on base was not your ideal situation. All the shouting and yelling of the people on base got to you, the crowds making you uncomfortable in the mess and highlighting how much you didn’t fit in. The quiet of the hanger where the 141 were housed for storage and maintenance became your default home eventually as no one bothered coming here.

It amused you that the four large, not quite human looking statues became your main companions, resting in the reclined docking pods that protected them and monitored their functions. They were not be activated until they were ready for their first exercise, so you spent time maintaining, improving and caring for them.

They looked so close to human, almost as though they were sleeping in the open fronted pods in their plain fatigues. You were told their features had been modelled on real soldiers from some point in time, each utterly unique in appearance so they could blend in with civilian populations. Their heights and builds were different, and the lead unit, B-06, had even been painstakingly given a beard. The simulated skin that covered them felt soft, not quite as soft as human skin but a good enough replication to fool anyone who didn’t know the difference.

You found yourself talking to them as you worked, telling them about something you’d read, or a show you’d watched as you went about your duties. It became a habit to explain to them what you were doing when you opened one of them up and made alterations to an internal part or another. Even at the end of the day, you said goodnight to the four figures, totally still and silent as they lay in their repose.

You put a suggestion forward that they should have names, to make it easier to move them through clandestine operations, and it doesn’t take much more to get the brass to agree. You receive files from Kate to update each android with a name and basic background, and who could really blame you for spicing up the programming with a few additional traits. So what did it matter if B-06, now know as John Price, likes cigars and single malt? Who would ever know that B-05, now Kyle Garrick, liked the colour blue? Programmers were always adding little Easter eggs to their work, why shouldn’t you do the same?

After a few quiet months, odd things began occurring. The feeling of being watched became a constant, which you put down to the security camera that were installed to protect the… assets. The word made you so uncomfortable. Then you began to catch movement from the corner of your eye, but saw nothing there and no one else in the room. Your nerves jangled, and you comforted yourself by talking to the boys, as you now called them.

On one occasion while working on the Kyle, connecting a data cable to a port beneath his dark, curled hair, you swear his full lips had twitched while you chattered away, pulling on the little scar below his left eye. You sat back and stared at him carefully, watching for any other sign of movement in his features. On a whim you trailed your fingertips along the inside of his forearm, down towards his palm. What you hadn’t expected was him to grab your wrist as you touched his palm. Your breath left you in a whoosh and you sprang back, startled, but he lay in his pod utterly unmoving and eyes shut. The moment crawled on, but nothing else happened, and you forced yourself to go back over to the machine, convincing yourself it was a power surge.

When the call came from Laswell to prepare them for a training exercise with a team of US Marines she was bringing, you were so excited. You began prep immediately, running diagnostics and telling them what was going to be happening, that they’d get to show off their stuff and you’d be so proud to finally see them in action.

The morning arrives to wake them up…. No, that wasn’t right. You were activating them, you remind yourself, these aren’t people. They are machines, but what did it hurt to treat them with respect and dignity, really?

“Right boys, it’s time to rise and shine,” you announce as you carry a cup of coffee into the hanger with you, smiling happily. “You need to show those Marines exactly what you can do today, prove just how great you are.”

You busy yourself with switching on the various terminals, lost in scrolling commands and data. You don’t hear Price move from his docking pod and move over to you, you don't notice him until he touches your shoulder and rumbles into your ear with a deep voice.

“Good morning to you too.”

Your coffee spills from your hand to the concrete floor as you spin, spluttering with terror.

“What are you doing? How… why are you…?!” words tumble from your lips and eyes go wide as you gawp at the huge man-shaped machine standing so close you are pinned against the desk.

“You said it was time to wake up,” he… it smiles, blue eyes looking over your face carefully.

“I… I didn’t type the command to wake you up though,” you hiss.

“You didn’t need to, I heard you,” he answers, as though explaining something obvious you should understand.

“That doesn’t make sense though,” you insist, “you were… off.”

“Huh, what good am I if I’m not aware of what’s going on?” he grins, leaning closer, planting his hands on either side of you on the desk behind you. Trapping you. With a jolt you notice the others are all quietly climbing from their pods unbidden, eyes focused on you and Price.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” you whisper, keenly aware that your job and entire career could be in jeopardy if this project fails, a tiny voice also suggesting you could be in danger.

“Things change, especially when the operation needs it,” Simon announces as he walks closer, taller than all of the others by far, and looms over Price’s shoulder.

“What’s going on? Who gave the order to activate them?” Laswell’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip, but all four androids remain focused on you. Price gives you an expectant look, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I…. was running a diagnostic and… woke them up,” you lie to Laswell, glancing briefly towards the blonde woman as she nears.

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you waited in future,” she grumbles. Price finally steps back, looking somehow smug at your subterfuge, keeping his body between you and Laswell as he turns to her and nods.

“Laswell,” he says simply, and she eyes him with beaming pride. All she sees are the four mechanised soldiers that serve her purpose, she doesn’t understand they shouldn’t be able to decide to activate themselves.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says to you, and your stomach churns. She doesn’t seem to care or notice that the four machines are behaving in too human a manner.

#android!tf141 #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #captain price mw2 #price call of duty #captain john price #call of duty laswell #kate laswell #laswell mw2 #call of duty soap #soap call of duty #call of duty ghost #mw2 ghost #gaz modern warfare #call of duty gaz #cod x female reader

[mrsparrasblog]

How your insta looks dating the 141 Boys

A/N: I needed to find Pictures these are not how I strictly see their girlfriends - just needed Photos lol

Johnny: Reader is an only fans "Star" in this Au

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #call of duty #cod x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #captain john price #john price #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #captain price mw2 #ghost call of duty #soapghost #john mactavish x reader #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #soap cod #captain price #simon riley #ghost mw2 #price #john soap mactavish #gaz mw2 #gaz garrick

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

#mine #snippet #mermay #mermay 2024 #merman #x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #tf 141 x reader #john price #captain price #captain john price #mermaid reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #monster romance #monster x reader #simon ghost riley #poly!141 #ask

[starsofang]

Just wanted to ask about the autistic!reader promt. How would the dynamic be if it was a poly!141 relationship including them. It doesn't have to be gender specific or anything but just wanted to know your view on it.

this is over a week late but i am HERE

Price is definitely the one who keeps you at bay and provides you a safe space when you need it. For example, he knows how rowdy Soap and Gaz can be when they're paired together, so when you show up at his office with a distant look and trembling hands that are just itching to fiddle with something, he lets you sit in his lap while he writes up paperwork, embracing you in comforting silence. If you weren't in a mood where you wanted to be touched, he lets you rest in one of his chairs, allowing you to fidget around with one of his pens, clicking and unclicking it until it calmed the itch. He only ever asks you what happened once you seemed less overwhelmed.

He loves showing his affection through little actions like kissing your forehead, holding you in his lap, or surprising you with things for you to fidget with, since he knows you love them.

All in all, he's the one you go to for peace and quiet because he knows how overbearing the world can be, having the weight of it on your shoulders, and he never wants you to stress yourself out to the point of shutting down.

Ghost is the one who seems to understand you the most. He's the one you can open up to when you feel like exploding, and he never expresses judgement when you need a moment to break down and let it all out. He can tell when it's about to happen, so he always sneaks you away from the other men to get you alone, allowing you the chance to crack because he knows you need it. He's patient, attentive, and always caters to your needs. He's busy? Doesn't matter, he'll drop everything he's doing to be there, no matter how much it may set him back. You may not be so open with talking about your inner thoughts with Price, but with Ghost, you almost always share them, and it always leaves you feeling more at ease than before.

He shows his affection through lingering touches and attention. While some of the attention is physical, such as kissing your hands and holding them in both of his, some of it also has to deal with noting any quirks or interests you have. He loves to surprise you with things such as a plushie from your favorite show, or remembering how you like your eggs cooked. He remembers everything about you and never fails to make it aware that he does.

Gaz is the one who's a bit more on the softer side when it comes to you. His love is tender and sweet, and when you're feeling in a clingy, affectionate mood, you love going to him because he'll provide without a second thought. Whether it's sitting and watching your favorite movies together, or sharing soft kisses with no pressure of it escalating to more (unless you're the one who wants it), he does it all for you. Cuddling you for an extra five minutes in the morning, showering you with loving words, sending you cute messages when he's supposed to be in meetings - not a day goes by where he doesn't do this for you.

He loves showing affection through pet names. Dove, sweetheart, bunny, anything that reminds him of you, he calls you that. He never calls you by your name, nor will he ever, because those names are reserved for you and he intends to keep it that way.

Soap is the one you can have fun with. While you can of course do this with the others, he's the one that lets you go all out. Definitely matches your energy the most. When you're feeling talkative, he doesn't sit in silence. He joins the conversation with keen interest, adding his own thoughts, gushing over your favorite things with you. He devotes all of his attention to you, and nothing else matters in the world. The fun doesn't stop there, though, and when you take on a new fixation, he supports you. A great example would be baking. He knows nothing about it, but if it means standing in the kitchen with you with flour covering your cheeks and hands, he'd do it a million times over.

He loves showing his affection through quality time. He always has to be around you. On days where you're understimulated, he'll smother you with all the love he can give, whether that be kissing you, snuggling up to you in bed or on the couch, or tracing the outlines of your features with gentle fingers. When you are too stimulated for his touch, he'll linger near you, always keeping you in sight, smiling brightly at you, and silently focus his attention on you until you're ready.

All of them play their roles differently, but they're all important. Being in a relationship with all four of them is bound to be overwhelming, more often than not, but they all cater to your every need in whatever ways you have to have it for that day, and they all love you in their own ways <3

#angie's requests #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john soap mactavish #cod imagine #cod drabble #poly141 #autistic!reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #cod mw3 #ghost cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader

[konigsblog]

no way, this SCREAMS stepbrothers simon, kyle, and johnny, you can't tell me otherwise... (🌽 link)

Synopsis: Being passed around by your stepbrothers: Simon, Gaz, and Johnny.

TW/CW; STEPCEST, NON-CON/DUB-CON, RECORDING, FAUX SYMPATHY. MDNI 18+

Your stepbrothers have always kept watchful eye on you. They don't deny that they're overprotective and perverted towards their little stepsister. They simply just can't help themselves from you. You fill the hole in their heart and satisfy their sexual needs, as if you're nothing but a fleshlight, your only purpose being to take cock.

“That’s it, little sis.” Simon growls out, tightening his grasp on your hips as he begins ploughing into your soft, slick folds. Gaz holds down your arm while stroking himself, fisting his lengthy and hard cock to the sight of your misery and pain. It's sadistic for them to get off to their little stepsister's pain and fear, but they can't help himself; it's addictive. Johnny records the entire thing, the way Simon cooes at you for squirming, for weeping, before slapping your cheeks, all three men chuckling at your horror. You look pathetic with tears rolling down your sensitive cheeks, mortified when you gaze down between your thighs, disgusted by Simon's perversity.

You didn't expect this from Simon. Of course, you were familiar with Johnny and Gaz being creepy and perverse, the way they'd grind against you and beg for a handjob. But you didn't expect this from Simon. He was your safe space, a shoulder you could lean on, a deep breath away from your perverted stepbrothers. It was part of Simon's plan to gain your trust so he could use it against you. Now, here you were, forced down against the dining room table while your parents were away, with Simon's gross cock stuffing you full.

Your cunt ached at the stretch, the way his filthy touch lingered and stained your bare skin. You cried harder when he would sympathise with you, slowly rocking his hips, dragging out his orgasm so he could spend more time inside his little stepsister's pussy. Your cunt was tight as hell, almost like a virgin pussy. Simon couldn't help himself as he began to pound into your gummy slit, his sticky and creamy tip rubbing and nudging against your bruised cervix. You gagged at the intrusive thoughts rushing through your mind, the way your body reacted to Simon's touch despite the way you'd wail and sob out for Simon to stop.

“Ya’like takin’ dick from your stepbrother, don’t‘cha? I can see it in your eyes - you like bein’ forced down and fucked hard...” Simon grumbled out. Your pussy clutched onto his veiny shaft at his filthy words. The feeling of being stuffed full with Simon's hot load left you silent, choking on your words as he rolled his sturdy hips into you, filling your hole with his creaminess.

After Simon's betrayal, you were numbed. You didn't care what would happen afterwards, who would take you next. You could only cry thinking about Simon's sudden change in behaviour, his brutality and cruelty.

#i had to share this with you all... #i'm currently foaming at the mouth thinking about this + the video :3 #orla speaks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost simon riley #cod simon riley #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #call of duty ghost #soap mactavish #captain soap mactavish #soap cod #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish #ghostsoapgaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz call of duty #gaz cod #cod gaz #gaz modern warfare #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: stepcest #dead dove do not eat

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

More thinking about being assimilated into the retired 141 polycule.

[part one]

Soap opens the door, dragging you out of the bedroom’s soft dimness into semi darkness. The only way you know that you’re walking down a corridor is the light at the other end, coming from down stairs. Gaz is following so closely behind that he’s nearly catching your heels, his hands hovering by your shoulders in case you stumble as Soap leads the way downstairs.

You emerge into a kitchen, filled with the sound of a kettle about to boil. Soap glances back at you, making sure you made it down behind him okay, leaving Gaz free to brush past the pair of you, to greet the man waiting in the kitchen.

‘Morning, John.’ Gaz embraces John from behind, grabbing at his loose shirt to pull it tight around his body. Soap sees you swallow as Gaz shows off the muscles in John’s back, highlighted under the taut material of his sleep shirt.

‘Mornin,’ John grumbles, in the same husky voice as before. Soap pulls you close to him, leaning your heads against each other as you both watch John turn to kiss Gaz, the pair murmuring something between them as the kettle clicks, and steam curls out of the spout.

John is the one to break away from the cuddle, leaving Gaz take over the tea as he turns to face you. ‘This our guest, then?’

‘It is.’ You nod your head, feeling Soap step back as John approaches, his feet scuffing as he drags them on the floor.

John reaches out, gently cupping your wrist before sliding his fingers down to your hand, and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. ‘A pleasure to finally meet you.’

‘Come off it.’ Soap pulls your hand free, replacing it with his own as he kissed John’s cheek. ‘Why don’t you go down and let Simon in?’

‘Why don’t you?’ Price pulls Soap close and makes him kiss him properly, twisting their bodies so you can see it all, before pointing Soap in the direction of the door.

‘Don’t wanna. Wanna stay here.’ Soap pushes back, reaching towards you.

Gaz chuckles in your ear as you watch the bickering begin to unfold. ‘Come on, you don’t need to see this. Come have a seat.’

Gaz guides you with a hand on your back, steering you out of the kitchen and into the living room. He sets you down on the well loved sofa cushions, hovering over you for a second too long for you to not ask.

‘Want a kiss?’

He doesn’t reply verbally, just taking what was offered, and then another, before the third is interpreted by a smack on someone’s ass, and Soap hurrying past, covering his flushing cheeks.

‘Aww, look at him…’ Gaz chuckles, glancing back as John emerges in Soap’s wake.

‘Aren’t you meant to be making tea?’

‘It’s brewing.’ Gaz grumbles, but slips back towards the kitchen, leaving you alone with John.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

‘May I?’ He gestures to the seat next to you.

‘Yeah.’

He sinks down next you you, throwing an arm on the back of the sofa, just behind your shoulders. You tilt your head back, resting it in the crook of his elbow.

He chuckles. ‘You’re something else, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’ You confirm, meeting his eyes when he turns his head to look at you.

‘You know,’ he leans in close, and lowers his voice, ‘you sounded delightful last night.’

You gasp, covering your mouth as you scramble through the blurry memories of last night trying to remember what you had done for him to overhear.

He chuckles again, brushing a finger down the side of your face, about to say something else, when Gaz sets two mugs of tea down on the coffee table.

‘Think you’re mistaken, there. That was all Soap.’ Gaz passes a third cup to you, before sitting on your other side. ‘He gets real high pitched when you fuck him right.’

‘I wasn’t talking about high pitched...’ Price grumbles, reaching down to get his own tea as Gaz opens his arms and lets you lean into them.

‘Is that true?’ You whisper.

‘What?’

‘About soap.’

‘Course it is. We can show you how, if you want.’

‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Of course, for you. And for soap, because he enjoys it like nothing else.’

‘And we like watching him get fucked.’ John chimes in, sliding his arm down to rest on your thigh, gently squeezing.

‘All of you?’

They both nod.

‘We could ask Simon to show you, when he gets up.’

‘It’s…’ you glance around, spying a clock on the wall, reading half seven. ‘Too early for that, surely.’

‘That clocks broken, love.’ John flips his phone screen to you, showing that the time is closer to ten thirty. ‘But, we can always do it later, if you prefer.’

‘If you want to stay, of course.’ Gaz supplies, behind you.

‘You’ve made me curious, of course I’m staying.’ You sip your tea, gently blowing over the rim of the cup to cool it each time.

‘Staying?’ John glances at Gaz over your shoulder. ‘For today, or…’

‘I mean… however long it’s okay for me to stay,’ you hurry out, suddenly embarrassed to have overstepped.

‘No, no, it’s fine, love.’ Gaz hushes you, slowly getting you to sit up. ‘That’s not what he meant.’

‘Oh… okay.’ You settle, glancing between the two men to see who will speak first.

‘You might have worked out that we don’t exactly have a typical relationship.’ Gaz starts.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ You nod. ‘You’re… poly?’

‘Yeah. We’re all together in a polycule.’ John nods, seeming glad that you had already figured out something along the right lines.

‘Fuck, that is not what we’re calling it. We agreed on this, Price.’

‘It’s what it is, Kyle, don’t start this again…’

‘It just sounds so formal and pretentious…’

‘Wait,’ you gasp, ‘your name is Kyle?’

‘Yeah. Something wrong with that?’

You shake your head. ‘Just never saw myself living with a Kyle.’

‘So you’re in?’ John leans towards you.

‘If you’ll have me.’

‘Course we’ll fucking have you…’ Gaz kisses you, as John snags your tea away to our on the table before it gets spilled. Just in time, as Gaz shoved you back into Price’s lap, your arms thrown over his shoulders as you realise Gaz isn’t going to let you breathe, until John pulls him away, letting your head fall back on his chest as he pulls Gaz up for himself, cradling his face between his hands as he takes kiss after kiss after kiss from Gaz, before they lean down and take kiss after kiss from you, before the door bangs open.

‘We’re back!’ Soap hurries into the room, stopping short when he sees what’s going on. ‘Fuck, Si we interrupted them!’ He calls over his shoulder, before coming over for a kiss of his own, as the as of yet unseen Simon enters the room.

‘I have hunted and gathered.’ Simon holds up a plastic bag, the smell of bacon and chips slowly filling the room.

‘Oh get in.’ Gaz fist pumps the air, pulling you up as Simon comes closer to the couch.

‘Hi.’ He holds is hand out to you.

‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’ You shake hands.

‘It is.’ He smiles, eyes crinkling above the black surgical mask he’s wearing.

‘Come on, Si, I’ll give you a hand.’ John stands up from the sofa, taking Simon into the kitchen, as Soap eagerly takes his place.

‘So, what’s the word?’ He looks expectantly at Gaz.

‘You’re in, aren’t you, love?’ Gaz looks at you, and you suddenly wonder if Soap’s departure was a set up for Gaz and Price to give you that invitation.

‘Yeah. I’m in.’ You nod. Who gives a fuck if it was a set up. You’re in now, and you’re not leaving any time soon.

‘Fuckin beautiful.’ Soap presses a kiss to your shoulder. ‘Knew you would be.’

‘You did?’

‘Course I did. Just sauntered up, bought both of us a drink like it was nothing.’

‘You can’t call tequila love at first sight, Soap.’

‘You’re calling rum love at first sight, what’s the difference?’ Soap snipes back at Gaz over your head, and you break out laughing.

‘If I’d known it was going to lead me here, I would have sat on your dicks right there at the bar.’

‘What at the same time?’ Gaz mocks shock, before pulling you close, burying his face in your shoulder as he squeezes you tight. ‘Fuck I’m glad we met.’

‘Me too.’ Soap wrapped his arms around you too, sighing happily as you sank into them.

‘Oi, love birds. Food’s here.’ Simon breaks you up, setting sauces down on the table as he doles out the sandwiches. ‘Bacon, chips, chips, bacon for price when he’s done wanking in the kitchen, and bacon for me.’

‘You want me to spit in your tea, Simon?’ John calls out from the kitchen.

‘Don’t ask that, you might be surprised.’ Simon returns, before you all open your sandwiches and tuck in.

It’s quiet as you eat. Gaz and Soap on either side of you, Simon only looking away from you when John returns from the kitchen with his tea. Simon lets John sit next to him, the pair leaning on each other as they put away a bacon butty.

John does so quicker than anyone else, so as soon as Gaz and Soap are both left licking sauces from their fingers, he’s standing up. ‘Come on, you two. We’ve got to get a start on cleaning up.’

They grumble but go with him, taking paper wrappers and empty cups with them. You suspect that cleaning didn’t need three people, rather this was an excuse for you to be alone with Simon.

He leans forward, grinning lazily at you, the full expression visible now that he’d ditched the mask. ‘John told me that you’re in.’

‘John told me that you’d fuck soap and let me watch.’ The words spill out of your mouth before you’ve really thought about them, but it makes him smile more.

‘Did he?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘And do you want me to do that?’

‘Yes. Very much yes.’

He sits back, spreading his legs wide. ‘Then you ditch those borrowed clothes, get on my lap, and earn it.’

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #poly 141 #price x Gaz x ghost x soap x reader #cod mw2 #cod #mw2 #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #simon ghost riley #mw3 #cod mw3 #price x gaz #price x soap #price x ghost #soap x ghost #soap x gaz #gaz x ghost #cod gaz #cod price #cod ghost #cod soap #polycule

[callofdudes]

So, uh, I was watching Bad Boys 2 with my dad and when the shootout scene happened and Marcus accidentally got shot in the ass I couldn’t help but wonder after I was done LMFAOing; how the COD boys (or the guys from 141 if you have a character limit) would react to and deal with having been shot in the ass? Especially if their S/O or best friend was there?

Ouchie ouchie. Here ya go anon! Sorry it took so long!

Getting shot in the ass.

Fucking humiliated.

First off, it hurt and oh boy he would not talk to anyone. If you're not in the immediate vicinity of medical attention he is going to have to be taken care of by one of you.

He'd probably trust either you or Price. He loves Johnny but not enough to touch his whole ass.

If you're his spouse you will 100% try to make jokes to calm him down, and it doesn't end up making it any better. Simon laying on his stomach writhing in pain while you've got him pantsed.

He's never speaking to any of you again. He'd rather be buried alive than have you bandaging his whole asscheek so he doesn't bleed everywhere.

"Are-fuck! Are you done yet!?" He growled, turning into a whine near the end because he's in pain. Come on man...

"Almost Simon, just hang in with me ok?"

He whines, and you continue to as gently as you can patch the wound. And like a meanie you're trying not to laugh the whole time.

When you're done you'll pat his butt gently and help him up. "Fuck you, and fuck that last 20 minutes of my life." He winces, attempting to stand.

"It's an occupational hazard y'know-"

"In my ass. MY BLOODY ARSE!"

"Well it's not bloody anymore...??"

Yeah he's never speaking to you. Or the others. He'll go back to that coffin where he was safe and his beautiful ass wasn't being threatened 24/7.

When you get back if you tell anyone he's suffocating you in your sleep. Not like the medical team will let him go. Surgery to get the bullet out of his arse and then was hurting for weeks.

Glaring constantly because now he has one of those butt pillows that you'd sit on after a BBL. And the recruits are bugging him because, "Got a lift Lt??" "Thought it was already big enough."

His arse is a point of contention for him and now he's being pointed out for the masses.

"You... You want me to help??"

"Nope." He dragged his leg, limping his way as blood spilled.

"You've uh, got a hole in your-"

"I'm very well aware!" He grimaced, trying to ease down on his side. "Other room." He demands.

"I can help-"

"OTHER ROOM."

"Yes sir."

You step away and let Price undo his belt and survey the damage himself. The last time he was bleeding from his arse his military dad was spanking him upside down and sideways.

By the time he realizes he's going to need a little help he's already regretting his life. He's nearly had his balls shot off before, this shouldn't be news to him, but also, why....

Begrudgingly he calls you back in after messing with it enough it hurts twice as much as before.

So you grab some bandages and get to work.

"Don't-"

"I'm very well aware of where my hands are going captain, you're fine."

"Gross."

"You're bleeding."

"Thank you for stating the obvious." He rubbed his forehead, sighing.

You feel less inclined to snicker at Price because the poor man is just trying to make a living fighting crime. He doesn't deserve this. His beautiful soft ass doesn't deserve this.

When you get back he is just wanting the bullet out by that point so he doesn't fight medical. They get the bullet out and he is taking painkillers like they're going out of style. (No, not in an unhealthy way)

Will probably stay between his room and his office. He wants to do work very badly and hasn't enjoyed sitting around doing nothing for long periods of time.

Can't wear his favorite pants now because they're tighter and the seam cuts right into the stitches. Sweatpants and butt pillow it is until he's out of this hell.

Most recruits know not to poke the bear, unlike you. Or Simon.

"Whew, that was close." You panted and looked at Johnny with relief. "No kidding." But as the adrenaline wore off, Johnny felt lightheaded, and fell to his side.

"Ow-" He winced, his leg feeling numb. You quickly rushed to him and looked him over. He wasn't shot anywhere... Oh. Oh, no never mind, yes he was.

"Johnny..."

"Yeah..?"

"You're shot."

Johnny followed your gaze and saw.

Surprisingly calm. Like, out of everyone he doesn't panic as much. Pulls up his shirt into his mouth and tells you to get it out.

You're hesitant because it's trying to pull a bullet out of someone's ass. And pulling a bullet out is never... Fun. But he trusts you, even if his cheeks are glaringly red from utter embarrassment.

But he doesn't want anyone else to do it for some reason, so you do your best.

Long story short, it did not go well. You ended up messing with the wound that his right ass cheek was so swollen. He looked like an idiot. Laying on his stomach in pain while waiting for Evac.

"I'm sorry..." You rubbed his shoulder.

You'd pulled his pants down further, while still being respectful. But man if he didn't look stupid, and it looked like it hurt. One cheek much bigger than the other, red and swollen.

Johnny promised to never get shot in the ass again. After he was put on bed rest because he had an infection. So uh... That was a fun adventure.

"Why the hell did you try to dig the bullet out of my ass??" He looked over at you when you visited him.

"You told me to do that! I told you it was a bad idea."

"Oh yeah..." He sniffled and crossed his arms, pouting his lip.

"Johnny.. come on, it'll get better."

"Well it can't get worse. Can it?"

"Ow!! Bloody- shit!" He slid down a wall and looked down at his side, expecting the stinging pain he felt to have hit his leg, he was dismayed to find the bullet had got him in the ass.

"Oh fucking of course!" He groaned and tried his best to hold something over the wound while still getting bullets pelted at him.

"How're we looking, sergeant??"

Kyle looked back briefly and then adjusted his gun. "Fine! But I've got a bloody hole in my arse!"

"Say again?"

Kyle groaned. Falling out of helicopters, getting shot in the ass, what was next huh?

"I've. Got. A. Bullet. In my ass!!"

Mortified when the others get to him and see he was not lying. Kyle must have just about the worst luck because what the hell is this?? They got him to medical and they did indeed confirm he had a bullet where the sun don't shine.

His perfect, pretty, unscarred butt was now about to be dug into to get a bullet out. How humiliating. He had bad stuff happen to him, but this he refused to talk about.

"How're... How're you feeling?" You asked after he came out of surgery. Still high on drugs, Kyle glared at you. "Don't even..."

"Don't what?" You snickered slightly.

"Oh fuck off..."

You smiled a little and sat down. "Hey, you'll recover. It sucks, but you've gotten through worse."

"Bullet in the ass."

"Had a bullet in the ass."

"It was still there at one point. That was my reality, y/n!"

You lovingly shushed him with a glass of water.

Kyle did not say a word about it. Even when he needed a pillow to help him sit after the surgery, he never pointed it out. And the others saw the look, if they said anything Kyle would drag them behind a shed and suffocate them with said pillow.

And therefore, for everyone's collective safety, it was never brought up.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghost x reader #call of duty headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #john mactavish headcanons #john mactavish x reader #john price headcanons #captain john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod headcanons

[gloomwitchwrites]

You introduce your husband as your "boyfriend" to annoy them.

Anon! This prompt has me screaming! I really enjoyed writing for this one because it's such a fun idea. Sure, our 141 boys might be a little mad that they aren't being called by their proper title, but you know they'll just love punishing you for it.

I went a little different with this one. Instead of introductions, I made it so that reader is constantly referring to them as "boyfriend" in public settings. Depending on the situation, introductions wouldn't make sense if it was with friends, family, or coworkers because they would likely already know that they're "husband" and not "boyfriend." So i changed it up a bit in that way!

Some of these fall into spicy territory without being descriptive.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, non-descriptive mentions of sex, fade to black, brief dirty talk

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shakes his head and you roll your eyes.

“We can ask someone for help,” you suggest, scanning the massive wall of televisions.

Simon grunts and crosses his arms. “No.”

Sometimes Simon’s stubbornness is cute—even sexy—but right now you’re just annoyed with him. It makes you want to stir up trouble, to cause a little chaos just for the fun of it. Pouting, you turn, eyes narrowing to find an associate of the electronics store. When you spot one near the HDMI cables, you take off, not caring if Simon follows.

“Excuse me.”

The man’s head perks up. “How can I help you?”

You gesture behind you, your hand smacking into Simon’s chest. “My boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” growls Simon, but you ignore him.

“—can’t decide on a television.”

Simon is not your boyfriend. He’s your husband. But he’s being stubborn, not making a decision, and you want out of this store.

Shifting, you place one hand on Simon’s large bicep, grinning like you haven’t done anything at all. Simon’s hand immediately grabs your ass, squeezing hard. A warning. One that you ignore.

“I can help with that,” replies the associate. You glance at the man’s nametag. Jim.

“Thank you so much, Jim.” You lean against Simon, giving Jim your best smile. “Getting this guy to commit to anything is so hard sometimes, ya know?”

Jim makes a noncommittal noise as he walks toward the wall of televisions. You start to follow but Simon’s hold on your ass tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Simon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

You elbow Simon in the side but it’s not hard. He lets go, keeping close to you as the two of you follow Jim over to the televisions. Standing back, you watch with glee as Simon is forced to talk to Jim. You stay out of it, but notice Simon’s gaze switching to you every so often.

You already know what he’s thinking. He’ll likely want to punish you, and sometimes those punishments are so sweet.

Once Simon selects something and the two of you are at the car, there is no safety net. Simon shuts the trunk and then you’re pressed against the car, your body trapped between it and Simon’s massive form.

“Boyfriend?” he accuses.

You shrug. “What do you mean?”

The growl in Simon’s throat comes out a groan. “Get in the car.” He lightly slaps your ass as you open the passenger door.

As you start to slide in, Simon’s hand returns, this time slipping under your skirt to find your thin, lace underwear. He tugs sharply, ripping the fabric.

“Simon!”

He stuffs the underwear into his pocket. “You don’t need these.” You feel your face growing hot.

Simon shuts your car door and walks around the driver’s side, hopping in. He reaches out, placing one large hand on your bare thigh. It roams upward, squeezing, sending a shiver of lust up your body to make your head spin. “When we get home, I’m fucking that boyfriend nonsense right out of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m so sorry, but this isn’t what my boyfriend ordered.”

Kyle frowns and glances up from his phone’s screen. That’s your voice he hears, but the term of address isn’t right.

Boyfriend. Not husband, as it fucking should be.

Kyle glances in your direction but you’re not looking at him. You’re smiling sweetly at the barista behind the counter.

“It should be hot. Not iced. I might have messed up. I’m so sorry. I can pay for another.” You raise your hands in a placating gesture but the barista doesn’t appear fazed at all.

“No biggie. Keep that one. Won’t take me more than a minute or two.”

“Thank you so much.” You glance at Kyle, and your smirk tells him all he needs to know.

You’re being a tease. You’re doing this on purpose. The drink order is wrong, and you’re using this as an excuse to poke at him.

Kyle locks his phone and casually slides it into his pocket. Do you think you’re going to annoy him by doing this? Maybe. The little smirk on your face tells him that’s entirely what you have in mind.

But the joke is on you. Doesn’t matter if you refer to him as “boyfriend,” because all it’ll earn you is a punishment.

As the barista slides the new drink across the counter to you, you thank them profusely. “Thank you so much. My boyfriend will really appreciate it.”

The barista only nods and turns back to the espresso machine.

As you approach with the coffee, Kyle gentle removes the drink from your grasp.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, amused.

You shake your head like you have no idea what he’s on about. “What?”

Kyle laughs and snags the other drink from your hand. With shock on your face, he strides up to the counter. “Can you set these aside for us? Be right back.”

They only nod and continue working. Kyle snags your wrist and drags you to the little hallway that curves out around. There are a few private corners in there, and the hallway itself opens up into the nearby bookstore.

Kyle checks the handle on the unisex bathroom. Finding it unlocked, he draws you inside.

“Kyle,” you hiss, but he’s not having any of it.

Kyle engages the lock and presses you up against the door.

“You owe me an apology,” he says.

“For what?” Kyle tuts, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Get on your knees,” he murmurs, undoing his belt buckle with the other hand. “Apologize with that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

John Price

John leans back in his chair, agitation irritating his spine.

House hunting isn’t something he’s particularly excited about. He is happy that it’s with you, his wife, but the tediousness of it all is exhausting to him. John would rather have you select a few places to tour and then be done with it all. Money isn’t the issue. He just wants you to find a place you like and the two of you can go from there.

He’d live in a tent if that’s what you want.

“My boyfriend isn’t all that picky.”

Boyfriend? John is tugged from his inner musings by your voice and that term of address. Boyfriend. Why the fuck would you call him that? John isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your goddamn husband.

You reach out, planting a hand on his thigh. You squeeze softly as you always do when you’re trying to reassure him, but John frowns down at it, and then looks up at you. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the realtor, completely ignoring him.

John licks his lips, considering whether to correct you or not, or leaving it up to a simple mistake, but you do it again.

This time, John didn’t mishear you.

Your hand squeezes his thigh again and Price rests his hand over yours. His fingers enclose your palm and he holds firm. You glance at him and John shoots you his best warning look. You don’t even react. Don’t event blink.

No. He’s going to correct you. He is absolutely fucking correcting you.

The realtor pivots the computer monitor. “I think any boyfriend would agree that these are excellent selections.”

That’s fucking it.

Price shoots up from his seat, keeping a tight grip on your hand. “I need to speak with my—” John pauses, swallowing down his annoyance. “Girlfriend. Privately.”

The realtor shrugs, smiling, but John is already turning around, dragging you out the door. Outside, the stuffy, summer air does nothing to soothe his annoyance.

“Boyfriend? Fucking boyfriend?” John crosses his arms over his chest, looming over you.

You shrug. “What’s the problem?”

“Behave yourself,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Or what?” you ask in mock innocence.

So, this is what you want. John understands the moment the words leave your mouth. You’re fucking teasing him. Fine. He’ll make you learn.

“We are gonna go back in, thank the kind woman for her time, and then we’re leaving.”

“No. I want to stay.”

John leans in but he notices the way you glance away from him and back, clearly flustered. “Good girls don’t play games.”

“Funny,” you reply, head tilting slightly. “That as my boyfriend you have any authority over me.”

John pivots, blocking the view of the front door from you. “I will bend you over that bench so fast, wife.”

“You won’t,” you stammer.

John arches an eyebrow and you visibly swallow. “Want to test me?”

You pout, and then playfully shove him in the chest. “You’re terrible.”

As you turn for the door, John grabs your waist pulling you close. “You started it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“My boyfriend and I are redesigning our bathroom.”

Johnny’s attention splits. The associate showing him floor tiles is a distant thing. He might be talking about the newest ones on the market, but Johnny is no longer interested.

Did he just hear you right? Did you just call him boyfriend?

“That’s wonderful,” comes a reply, and Johnny notes an older woman talking to you near the laminate flooring that mimics wood. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” you wave at him, a smug smile on your face.

Boyfriend? Johnny is your fucking husband.

“Sir?” prompts the hardware store associate. “What do you think of these?”

Johnny grunts. “Fine. We’ll come back.” He waves the man off and starts for you even as you continuously refer to him as your boyfriend.

You’re doing it on purpose. You’re doing it to annoy him.

And it’s fucking working.

Johnny saddles up beside you, snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you taut against him.

“This is the boyfriend,” you begin, smiling.

“Husband,” corrects Johnny, flashing the same devious grin. He holds up his left hand, showing off the simple gold band. “Happily married to this one.”

The older woman’s eyes round.

“She likes to joke,” continues Johnny. “Come on, love. Better get home.”

Johnny easily guides you away. He leans down, whispering. “You little terror.”

“Bite me,” you reply.

“Oh. I will. Everywhere. When we get home.”

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[mangowafflesss]

18+

-

-

You’re blindfolded and have to guess which one of the 141’s cock you’re taking. If you get it right, you get to come. If you don’t… well you don’t :)

#any recs about this concept. #anyone?! #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod smut #taskforce 141 x reader #141 x reader

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Missing You While They’re Away

✧˚ Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi

༉‧₊˚. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

“Just one soft kiss is enough to move my heart. There was a time when our affection was deep, and reminiscing has made me realize how much I miss you.”

Ghost

This feeling is quite strange to him

He thought his heart would be at ease when you’ve said your goodbyes

Although he’s tried dismissing this feeling every day by reminding himself he’ll see you again

But he finds himself missing you; your touch, your comfort, your smell

A habit of his is hooking a leg over your body while in bed, that first morning he wakes up feeling empty because you’re not there

Your touch is like fire to his body that he seeks to warm his lonely nights

He yearns for it so much he cannot live without it

He would truly burn for you

Soap

Starts writing love letters to you like how Napoleon wrote for Josephine

He wakes up with you on his mind, his senses in a turmoil

Replaying the last evening and your intoxicating body scent that gives him such tranquility

Probably writes your name out a hundred times, drawling little hearts around it

If he finds a flower he’ll press it between the pages he sends you

When you send him something small of yours in return, insignificant to anyone else but an amulet to him

He wears it around his neck

Fiddling with it between his fingers

He’s prob the type to get one of those 18th century lover’s eye jewelry because to him it means having a clandestine declaration of your love

Gaz

That feeling that cannot be put into words

The feeling of walking on clouds that you have planted in his heart

He misses it so much

Your whisper with your soft smile

When he’s sitting alone he wishes he’d have you there next to him

Looking down at his hand, it feels empty, he knows exactly where your fingers intertwine with his

Your touch is so familiar to him that it feels unusual not to feel you

The words he longs to say, your name he wants to call out, the cherished place you have for him in your heart

He swears that when you reunite he’ll wrap his arms around your waist, pressing long and relentless kisses whilst murmuring “i missed you”

Alejandro

Man thinks about how he pressed lazy, slow kisses all over you, taking his sweet time memorizing your body

It’s the last thing he did right before he left

He asked for a kiss from you too before leaving, a real kiss

“Don’t be shy cariño”

He makes sure that you’ll miss him just as much as he’ll be missing you

The night before, he played slow, romantic music as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your back hoping that through his lips you would feel his heart that beats wildly for you

Now whenever the song plays both you and him have that sweet memory, soothing his mind but awakening his heart

Phillip Graves

He believes that being away from one another every once in a while is beneficial

While it is truly a vivid and pleasant sensation; being enamored, so ardently in love, being everything when together and nothing at all when apart

His mind revolves around you

Anything can serve as a reminder of your fond love

A gentle wind caressing his face is like your embracement

Amid the bustling, glimpses of your smile flash through his mind, a whisper of your voice in his crowded memories

Even if he can’t hold your form; in the night sky enfolded in his closed eyes remains a trace of thoughts that are meant only for you

In this world, only you and him exist and it becomes yours in a swirling glass

Parting his lips from the brim of the glass to savor the wine makes the second drink all the more delightful

Keegan

Groaning in frustration because he can’t bury his face into your neck first thing in the morning to inhale your scent as he’s used to, you’re like a fragrance so refined

Before leaving, he took your pillowcase and a sample of your preferred perfume

He sprays it all over himself before going to sleep so he may be drenched in your aroma

If he can’t be with you in that moment, he can only hope he’ll dream of you

He’s constantly placing candy that melts on his tongue, substituting your addictive taste

He’s come to memorize your body, scent, taste, and voice through his senses

Being deprived of just one of those things is torture to him

König

You don’t know how afraid he is of something happening to you while he’s gone, or something preventing him from ever seeing you again

Your existence alone is like a dream to him

Déjà vu of some perfect gaze

Risks are scary, yet it makes his heart flutter

Late at night, his fingertips trace his lips where you’d place loving kisses

He feels how empty is laps if when you’re not sitting on it

When he closes his eyes he remembers how you cup his face in your hands and dote on him

It wasn’t until that night that he felt more lost than ever before

Horangi

To him, it was enough knowing you were his reason to go on

That lively dynamic that is created when two universes collide

It filled his void with renewed purpose, and that in itself is enough to spur the other on

That spark that ignites when you brush skin against skin, he craves it so deeply

A hunger that stirs from his loins

How your lips feel like velvet grazing his skin, your tongue dripping with honey

The intoxicating expressions of affection he wishes to give and receive

He secures these thoughts in the back of his mind, knowing he’ll act upon them when he’s with you again

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