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thegnomelord · 4 months

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this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so

dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.

what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.

OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/

CW:NSFW

What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.

Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.

A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.

And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.

Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.

His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.

"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."

"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."

And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.

Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"

"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.

You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.

You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.

But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.

To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.

"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.

Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."

Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.

Then comes the actual courting dance.

One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."

You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"

With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.

Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"

Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.

You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.

"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.

You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.

God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."

You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.

Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.

What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.

Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.

Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.

And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.

"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"

"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.

And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.

It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.

"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.

You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"

Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.

"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.

"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.

"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.

The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."

"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."

"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.

#Spittballs with Gnome #Idk how this happened #my hyperfixation got wayyy out of hand #n my monsterfucking got out of hand #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john price x male reader #john price x reader #top dom reader #cod modern warfare #cod smut #cod x male reader

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kamisamiart · 4 months

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Drew baby girl

#könig #konig cod #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod #new hyperfixation just dropped #I hated every second of drawing that hand

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wispscribbles · 6 months

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Ghoap sketch page

#ghostsoap #soapghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod fanart #my art #doodle #I found a new brush again and so #had to test it #anyone else sorta freaking out about mw3?? hhahahah couldn’t be me (is me)#I have fics in process that could be wildly changed by what happens to our lads #just hope it doesn’t somehow kill my hyperfixation #because this is my source of serotonin at the moment (this entire year)#I am so angry that I allowed cod to have any power over me #absolutely devastating for my pride #(said with love)

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frogchiro · 8 months

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I saw this delicious delicious art on Twitter of Gladiator!Ghost, half naked in a bath house and dear GOD my thoughts are thinking...Reader who is a favored Lady-in-waiting for the aristocratic wife of a very high positioned official and always accompanies her Lady to the arena for various festivities and catches the eye of a certain gladiator hrrrrnn

#kin speaks #this is so fucking erratic but I needed to get this out of my system #my childhood hyperfixation on ancient greece/rome is ROARING #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader

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natelia-aldelliz · 1 year

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1 : Soap never had any idea that woman wanted him carnally, he's not the most observant on that front (he never noticed Ghost flirting with him and thought his love was one-sided for the longest time, but tbf Ghost was also very discreet about it)

2 : He sewed the hat, eyepatch and hook himself, because he's the best uncle and then got distracted as he was wrapping it up, so now he's watching a tutorial on youtube about how to build a voice box. Honestly how hard could it be, he builds explosive devices as a hobby (listen, Price doesn't have to know)

3 : He is out to his family, but doesn't want his mum to know he has a boyfriend because he knows she'll insist on meeting him and welcoming him to the family and making a big deal out of this, and he knows that Ghost isn't ready for that.

4 : Christmas is obviously a very hard time for Ghost, but he is very very in love with Soap and some days still can't believe that it's mutual, but then his Johnny does something like that and his head gets quieter while he's melting a bit.

5 : For the people that didn't see my other post : the bird is a Caique parrot, and they're supposedly very energetic, a bit loud, medium sized, unintelligible, very friendly to what they consider their family, adventurous and danger prone, with an explosive personality and a hate of boredom, so basically the adhd bird.

#cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost is hard edges and sharp knives but simon is babygirl #i tried my best to make soap's sister look as much like soap as possible #as someone whose siblings look nothing like them i find it hilarious i have no idea why i swear i have the weirdest sense of humour #hc that simon's very first wait no second actually bc i feel like the first special interest for every child with autism is dinosaurs #but wait plot twist birds are dinosaurs so still hc that simon's first (or second if you want) special interest was birds #and he still loves them very much and both soap and his sister have adhd and his sister has a reoccurring hyperfixation on birds #and soap thinks ghost and his sister could get along very easily and is waiting very impatiently for the day ghost is ready and he can #introduce him to his family #but also ghost is very wary of families and especially since there's a young child because he's scared that he'll bring them death like he #feels he did to his own family #i initially wanted to colour it but then i wondered why my brain was working against me and very quickly decided that colouring all that #would be a nightmare and that i already hate colouring so why would i want to torture myself #anyway pls be nice with me i've given all i had to make this lmao

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yeyinde · 1 year

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Keegan P. Russ | Call of Duty: Ghosts

Damn, kid, who taught you how to do that?

#there is a surprising lack of Keegan gifs #so here are my subpar ones #oh whats that sound??#just my new incoming hyperfixation #call of duty: ghosts #cod: ghosts #call of duty ghosts #cod ghosts #keegan russ #keegan p russ #keegan cod #call of duty keegan #mygifs #keegangifs #keegan edits #keegan #please do not repost

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 3 months

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There’s just something about a man who’s attached to his hat that makes me feral

#i can feel the hyperfixation coming #back for Arthur Morgan #writing for COD and RDR2 #wild time to be alive #captain john price #arthur morgan

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artieseni · 4 months

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hellooooo codz fandom please let me in i offer one (1) messed up little german babygirl

#edward richtofen #dr edward richtofen #richtofen #call of duty #call of duty zombies #codz #cod zombies #primis richtofen #fanart #doodle dump #he's the smartest man in any room yet cannot solve a rubiks cube to save his life ok thank you for listening #hyperfixation bit me in the ass again and now i must draw my babygirl #will artie post more this year? who knows!#(the answer is I am aiming to)#artie scribbles

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gazspookiebear · 3 months

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No thoughts, just arm wrestling with Ghost

You wanted Ghost's attention. There was no denying it- he was too enticing to let him slip through your fingers. You wanted, just once, to feel him.

You were purposefully being an arrogant and cocky prick all day, telling anyone who would listen to you (and those who didn't) that you could easily beat Ghost in an arm wrestling match.

Of course, Ghost caught wind of it, but he brushed it off. After all, there were tons of clueless rookies who talked shit when they didn't know who exactly they were facing.

Unfortunately for Ghost, it kept happening. First time he heard you yapping was during training. Then when Soap was laughing and telling him about some dumb comment you made earlier. A few times after that throughout the next few days, and finally, you had the nerve to say it to his face.

"You couldn't beat me, " you announced mockingly

"Mmh. Let's put that to the test, mate."

You were nervous. You hadn't expected him to agree to it in all honesty. Not that you would back down now.

Sitting down at the table, you had gathered quite a crowd. Who would want to watch some rookie get slammed by the Ghost? Everyone, apparently.

You readied your elbow on the table. On the opposite side, Ghost did the same. You took in a small gasp of air, nerves now getting the best of you. This was a horrible idea, wasn't it? You vaguely hear someone count down and yell "start", causing you to clasp your hand with Ghost's and start pushing with all your might.

Holy shit. He was hardly struggling- the both of your arms staying firmly in the center. You looked up for a second to try and gage his expression, only to be met with his eyes already staring into you.

It was like all the air was torn from your lungs- you might as well have forgotten how to breathe.

You couldn't deny it, his eyes were absolutely gorgeous. Weary and calculated brown eyes staring into your own, an odd softness to them.

He still hadn't beat you. He easily could, you were never a match for him.

But maybe, just maybe-

-he wanted to hold your hand, too.

#cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod ghost #ghost cod #Uhhhh first post on my new alt #Yeah I finally committed and made an alt for my hyperfixation #Ermmmm!!!!#This'll be fun #Totally not nervous about posting in a larger fandom #No not at all definitely not me #Still gotta finish setting this bitch up #ghost x gn reader

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moongreenlight · 4 months

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Greek mythology/the Olympians has been my hyperfixation for going on two decades now and I just… Soap as Dionysus.

Always brings a good bottle of wine and a few rooted cuttings of ivy as a housewarming gift. If he’s fixed his attention on you, he’ll also put a few sex toys in the little bag he brings. Puts them right on top for the pleasure of seeing your scramble to try to shove them in a drawer or tuck the whole gift in the closet.

He’s a great time. Has this intoxicating way about him. Like life is a stage and he’s the director. Playful and fun, though a little too enthusiastic at times. Handsy when the two of you hang out. You assume that’s just his nature and excuse it accordingly. Hard not to, gorgeous man that he is. A divine kind of handsome. Like his features are an eons-old amalgamation of all the most beautiful features humans have ever had.

And he gets strangely possessive, even after you’ve been nudging back his wandering hands or putting your hand between his mouth and your neck all night. Borders on vindictive and aggressive if he’s not in the right headspace.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him snapping his teeth in the face of some man at the bar who had only just asked you if you’d wanted a drink. You swear later in the night you see him babbling feverishly to a group of his friends. It sounds like total gibberish, and his friends look even more confused than you feel, but his eyes are wide as saucers and his hands are flying about hazardously. You don’t think much of it after Soap pulls you by the waist to the corner booth and tips a cocktail up to your mouth.

He keeps you out until all hours of the night. Insists on staying jovial. Club-hopping to find the best crowd, best music, best conversation. Keeps you up and active for so long that the confines of reality start to become fuzzy at the edges.

Sexuality expressed through bodies writing and twisting in drunken dance. Bumping up against one another. Collecting strangers and your own sweat in fat beads on your skin that make you shiver when they get heavy enough to trail down the small of your back.

When the room is spinning enough to make you stumble just a bit and you’re unable to do anything but giggle about it, he’s somehow able to make sneaking off into the family bathroom together seem like a good idea. He seems just as drunk as you are, slinging an arm around your shoulders when you walk. Bellowing a laugh when his hand grazes your tit but making no attempt to pull it away.

It’s less easy to be oblivious when you’re in the bathroom together. The muffled music filtering through the bottom of the door. He’s pressing up against you even though now there’s no crowd to excuse his practically grinding his groin on your hip.

It smells like sweat and generic brand bathroom cleaner. You hum when he staggers to the urinal instead of griping at him about how crass it is to take a piss right in front of you. He props himself up on the wall with one hand and a moment after you hear the teeth of his zipper come undone, he lets out a throaty, satisfied groan.

You busy yourself looking in the mirror. Checking your makeup. Seeing if you look as drunk as you feel. It’s filthy. There’s a web of cracks coming from the bottom left where it looks like someone tried to send their fist through to the wall behind it. It makes you a bit dizzy to look at and you have to bend at the waist to get close enough to see the way your mascara has smudged all around your eyes.

And all of a sudden there’s a burning heat behind you. Sickly, feverish heat pressing straight into the pillows of your ass. Soap’s spidery reflection shows up just over your smile sporting a wicked grin. Teeth and eyes flashing.

You try and swat him away, all too used to his comings-on, but he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips bruisingly hard.

“C’mon, hen. Been driving me mad all night. Relax a bit. Jus’ need this. Need you. Please.”

He has to lay flat over your back to hiss in your ear. Teeth clenched like he really needs to put some effort behind his words to sound polite. Like a petulant child who’d just been reminded by their mother to practice manners.

You were practiced in batting back his advances, but for some reason his grit made you falter. His gaze seemed to be burning a hole through you in the mirror. The idea that something inside him was hitting a roaring boil that he couldn’t stop from flowing over made your brain go foggy. The opposite of sobering. His aberrant need was contagious and catching quick.

He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne and dry, sweet wine and woods. Flirty and masculine and overwhelming. And he’s warm and strong behind you, even if he’s pushing his hard cock into you.

Who were you to deny him the pleasure of snapping his hips into your backside a few times? Letting his fingers impatiently tug at the button of your jeans and hastily tug them down with your underwear until they pooled around your ankles?

It didn’t help that the sound of him sending a glob of spit into his hand made you clench around nothing. A familiar warmth gathering between your thighs that made you shift a bit to chase the momentary relief even a touch of friction could provide.

He couldn’t even afford you the decency of pretending not to see. No. Instead he points a spotlight on you and insists you perform for him again. Nudging your legs apart and pressing his thigh flush against your core while purring the filthiest things in your ear.

“Ken I jus’ needed to wear you down, mm? Thought ‘bout this before we went out. Always did get sloppy when you drink. Jus’ needed a little push. That’s it -Jesus- cunt’s so wet. Gonna take good care of her.”

And the club is so packed full of drunken, dancing bodies that hardly anyone notices the way you two stumble out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Even though you’re still fumbling with the button of your jeans with shaking hands.

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medicbrainrot · 3 months

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you make me wish i could disappear

A/N: Soooo, it’s been a while, hey? Instead of studying for my immunology exam, or even going to bed at a reasonable time, I wrote 1460 words of angst/hurt/comfort instead. Apologies in advance for any poor writing, I’m running on not enough sleep and not enough dopamine, hence this new piece after months of nothing. Spoilers for MW3 kind of. Let me know what you guys think!

It’s the middle of the night; she suddenly bolts upright in bed panting heavily, her hair wild from sleep as she gasps, trying to hold back tears. She clutches at her chest as she tries to catch her breath, disoriented to her surroundings. Simon is currently asleep beside her, but begins to stir when he feels her moving and hears her gasping. He cracks open his eyes, alerted to his love’s distress.

“Sweetheart? Are you alright?” He reaches up slowly as he sits up, trying not to startle her in her disoriented state. “What’s wrong?”

Still half asleep and half panicking, she turns to Simon and immediately starts conducting a trauma sweep, the muscle memory of her training kicking in as she checks him for injuries.

Simon doesn’t fight the inspection, letting her check him with the understanding that it might take a bit for her to snap out of her frantic nightmare-induced state. He gently brushes his fingers across her cheek, hoping that the gentle touch will pull her back to wakefulness and help her feel safe again.

“You’re okay, you’re safe here love. It’s just a nightmare.” He murmurs gently, cupping her face.

Although still frantically checking Simon for injuries as she presses on his collarbone followed by his facial bones, she slowly starts coming back to a more coherent state, her frantic search slowing down as she calms down.

With his other hand he gently reaches to rub up and down her back, looking at her with worried eyes. He takes one of her hands and places it on his chest, letting her feel his heartbeat.

“Slow down babe, you’re okay. You’re fine, I’m fine. You can calm down.” He says softly, sliding his fingers from her face into her hair.

He lets her get herself oriented, softly brushing her hair back as she rests her hand over his heart. “You’re okay, nothing’s wrong, I promise.”

“You’re alive.” She pants softly, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill.

“I’m safe, I promise.” He reassures her, rubbing her back in soothing motions. “It was just a nightmare, I’m right here.” He knows he needs to be gentle with her right now, she can be on edge for a while after a nightmare like this.

She relaxes onto her knees a little bit, leaning into Simon’s shoulder as he pulls her close. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his lap, holding her tightly to give her the comfort she needs. He can tell she’s still tense, so he encourages her to lean into him as he soothes her.

They sit there in charged silence, curled into each other as he gives her a few moments to gather her thoughts together.

“Makarov came after the 141 again.” She sobs softly, pressing her face into Simon’s neck.

Simon knows exactly why she’s been having recurring nightmares about Makarov, he’s been having similar ones alongside her. They almost seem to take turns having fitful nights of sleep, interrupted by each other’s nightmares.

He sighs, knowing there’s not much he can do at the moment except comfort her. “It’s okay, it’s over now. It was just a dream.” He turns his head to press a kiss to her forehead, hoping his touch soothes her frayed nerves.

He lets her melt into him, his arms around her tightly enough to keep her pressed to him, his heartbeat thudding in his chest as he recalls the events of a few months ago. They simultaneously feel as if they happened yesterday, just like they feel as if they happened a lifetime ago.

He shifts their bodies across the bed so that he can adjust them from sitting into laying down, encouraging her to rest her weary body on his. He keeps her curled onto him, running his hand up and down her back to try and comfort her.

After several moments of sniffling, she finally bursts into tears, breaking the silence in the room. “I’m scared….”

As soon as she starts crying, he knows she’s one step closer to getting it out of her system for the night. This is a recurring event, and he knows how to comfort her so that they can eventually both fall back asleep. He gently rubs the back of her head, encouraging her to let it out.

“I’m here, everything is okay sweetheart, I’m here. You’re safe here.”

He holds her tight to his chest, knowing that all he can do right now is comfort her. It’s easy for him to do so, he knows her like no one else. He allows her to press herself into him and cry, letting out intense sobs as she processes the nightmare and the events that caused it.

After several minutes of intense crying, it seems she’s gotten through the worst of the breakdown. She continues crying, but a little less intense, eventually shifting to sniffles instead of sobs.

He kisses her forehead again as the tears start slowing down, his comforting touch doing its job of calming her down as she cries it out. “It’s okay love, it’s okay. You’re safe here with me.” He whispers soothingly.

“I miss Johnny.” She sniffles into Simon’s neck. “He’d laugh if he saw us like this.”

“He called it from the beginning, didn’t he?” Simon agrees softly, holding her a little tighter. He knows Johnny’s death had hit her extremely hard, the two of them having become fast friends upon the formation of the Task Force. “I miss him too. I just know he’d be teasing us about being right.”

“It was cruel of the universe to not let him see he was right.” She sniffles softly.

“I’m sure he knows love, I’m sure he knows.” Simon chuckles softly.

A few more moments pass before Simon nudges her with his shoulder. “Are you feeling a little better?” He asks gently as he swipes his thumbs across her cheekbones.

She nods, sniffling away a few remaining tears. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” He inquires hesitantly.

“The first time you kissed me.” She mumbles.

Simon recalls the incident in question. It had been her birthday, just before midnight to the next day. They had gone out for a quiet dinner to celebrate, neither of them being in a particular mood to do so, but using it as a reason to get off base.

On the walk up to her door, Simon had finally gathered up the courage to kiss her, but she had started crying after he did so.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t remember the moment. It was certainly… unique. Had I’d known you’d cry, I might have held off.” He says softly still inwardly cringing at the idea that he’d made her cry. “You never did explain why you cried…”

After the tears started, she had bid a hasty goodnight and shut the door in Simon’s face rather abruptly. Things had been a little awkward afterwards, but upon her insistence, Simon eventually accepted that it wasn’t necessarily his fault she’d shed tears.

“It’s kind of silly now, in retrospect.” She mumbles into Simon’s shoulder. “Before… Makarov… There was one night Johnny and I had gotten a little drunk, and he’d bet me that you’d wait until something like my birthday to kiss me.” She sniffles, trying to clear her nose. “When you kissed me, I remembered that bet and the memory kind of startled me, because it felt like Johnny was shouting ‘I told you so!’ from the afterlife or something. So I guess I owe him a drink the next time I see him.”

Simon chuckles slightly at the explanation, relieved that her tears hadn’t been exactly his fault. “He was right on target with that one. I didn’t think I’d have the guts to do it, but I’m glad I did.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the bed helping them both feel a little more relaxed after tonight’s ordeal.

She yawns, the adrenaline from the nightmare finally starting to wear off. “Sorry for manhandling you earlier.”

“It’s alright, it was just a nightmare, it can be incredibly disorienting sometimes. I’m just glad you’re feeling a little better.” He smooths his hand across her hair before pulling the blankets back around them.

She takes a deep breath, letting the warmth of Simon’s embrace comfort her. He tucks the blankets around them, settling into the bed as they get sleepy again. He continues rubbing his hand up and down her back a little longer as she drifts off to sleep, feeling at ease that he’s there to comfort her.

He presses one last kiss to her head before drifting off to sleep himself, comforted by the fact that his lover is safe in his arms.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! (Requests are also still open)

Masterlist

#medicbrainrot #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon riley hurt/comfort #cod mw3 #ascensionism #and #take me back to eden #sleep token #were the songs on repeat for this fic #i will never get over how beautiful that album is #a literal year and i'm still obsessed #also it's been almost a year and a half that i've been hyperfixated on cod and the dopamine still hasn't worn off #i'm pleasantly surprised that it's lasted this long

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