#Simon is very defensive of his boy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kkvqwrites · 1 year

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You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

#who would have thought I'd get wordy writing about Price #it's my older man kink #can you tell the writer juices flowed as I kept writing #mwii headcannons #task force 141 #141 headcanons #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #no use of y/n #ghost mwii #soap mwii #gaz mwii #price mwii

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cod-dump · 2 months

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I am obsessed with your teen au and i just have thoughtsssss

I love the idea of Simon and Johnny just getting into a relationship too fast since they looked at each other and went "oh no hes hot!" And Kyle and Alejandro just immediately shipped and forced proximity for them to confess and just the idea that they fumble so slowly and cute through their relationship

Also I just wanted to ask how you think prices reaction to them dating, cuz I feel like he was a little bit more defensive with Kyle and Alex since 1. thats his baby, and 2. Its kind of fun to stress out Alex since he's just a Polite Boy

I just feel like it was harder to scare Johnny

Also love your stuff have a lovely dayyyy (or night)

Price was definitely more stunned when he found out Ghost had a boyfriend. It was a ‘oh shit my child is dating’ moment and he jumped on making sure they were being safe with anything they thought about doing. He already knew Johnny from him being Kyle’s best friend, so he wasn’t worried about Simon dating someone he had never met.

He did have a very polite talk with Johnny about him dating Simon, and Nik had a less polite conversation that had Johnny pale as snow. He would react similarly to Kyle and Alex dating, again because he knows Alex and knows he’s a good kid… and Nik would be the same because he’s protective of his boys.

If Farah starts dating, Price and Nik would probably be very protective and wary of whoever she brings around. She’s not their kid through blood or paperwork, but she’s still under Price’s roof and in his guardianship. They’re going to scare whatever girl she brings home (if Simon and Kyle don’t manage to do that first).

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the-californicationist · 2 months

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Good Fences (Fluffuary #13)

FEB13: Night Out

“Did she book out the whole place, then?” John asked, pulling his pearl buttons through their starched holes as he dressed into his shirt.

“Yep, very fancy,” you told him, fixing his tie and feeling the silk slip through your manicured fingers.

Your best friend, Cana, had just graduated from her master’s program, and she had invited you to her graduation party. When you mentioned that you were housing three additional British soldiers, she had extended the invitation to include them most enthusiastically.

The boys had dressed up nice. Cana had indeed booked out an entire rooftop bar, and as a woman who liked to party, she was really pulling out all the stops tonight.

She was dressed all in black, surrounded by her classmates and a few of your mutual friends, but when she saw you coming through the doors with your literal army squad, she made a bee-line straight for you. Her bejeweled arms were spread wide, her perfectly set curls bounced as she ran, flinging herself into your arms and squealing her hellos.

“Cana!” You laughed, holding her as she spun around you with glee, “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you.”

“Goddamn, babe. Me too,” she huffed, exasperated and sarcastically funny.

You watched her roll her eyes and smile,

“Thank fuck grad school is done. Now, introduce me! You brought dinner, I see.”

“Oh, God, Cana. You can’t say that!” You protested.

But, Kyle heard her comment and brushed you aside, reaching for her hand and taking it in his,

“Let the woman speak, babes. She looks hungry.”

Cana giggled, high pitched and joyful, letting Kyle lead her back to her table. You looked at John and mouthed an apology.

“Dinnae fash, bonnie. Gaz is in his own version of heaven,” Johnny chuckled, “He never could turn down a curvy lass.”

“She’s a wild one, but I love her,” you explained, trying to dismiss your friend’s audacious behavior.

“She’s grand, love. Let me buy you a drink,” John wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you in to his body. His soft clothes crumpled against your side, and you noticed John’s palm sliding lower and lower down your back.

“Speaking of blokes in heaven,” Simon quipped, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He cast a long gaze at his captain, and you thought you saw the hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Aye,” John puffed up a little, defensively, “And what of it?”

“Heaven looks good on you, Cap’n,” Johnny clapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, “You were sayin’ somethin’ about a wee drink?”

You talked and drank and laughed all night with John and his friends. Cana couldn’t keep her hands off of Kyle, and he seemed to be loving every moment of it. By the end of the evening, your feet were aching, but you had heard story after story of John being the hero and even more stories of him being the victim of his men’s pranks. They seemed to have an incredible bond together that made you admire John even more.

“Are you havin’ fun tonight, love?” John asked, whispering in your ear, letting the whiskers of his beard tickle your neck and sensitive lobe as he did.

You turned your head to him, smiling, whispering just as low,

“Yes, I am. But, I can’t stop staring at you in that suit.”

“And you in that dress. Mmm…” John ran a long finger up your thigh, pushing the dress’s hem higher and higher until it was truly scandalous.

“Maybe you should take me home,” you suggested, your eyes full of lust, “So, you can take it off.”

“Grab your purse. Now.”

Check out the schedule here.

AO3 Link

#the californicationist does fluff #fluffuary 2024 #fluffuary #john price fluff #john price #captain john price #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod #cod fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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m2ok · 1 year

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Found Family

Simon “Ghost” Riley X M!reader

A/N: I accidentally deleted the ask for this fic 😭so (🐝) if you’re reading this I apologize I didn’t mean to delete it, but here you are my love 🫶

You didn’t typically pick your husband up from his stationed base, most times he insisted on flying home, but today was different. Simon had been gone for so long this time that you just couldn’t stand waiting for him to get off the plane only to take another hour to get to your shared house.

You had told him the previous week that you would be coming for him, he of course insisted that it wasn’t necessary and that he could just fly like always, but you were firm in your decision. You made it very clear that you were going to come get him, no arguments.

While you were beyond giddy to grab your husband, and meet his team, Simon was feeling the exact opposite. No one knew he was married, and to a man no less, they had no idea he had a partner at all. It wasn’t necessarily a secret, but he was a private man and they understood that. Plus he was worried that if more people knew it would put you in danger, and he wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t.

He was also worried about what you thought of them, what they thought of you. He knew it was a superficial thought, you’d barely ever interact with them, but he couldn’t help it. You were the love of his life, and his team was like his family. He didn’t want there to be tension between any of you for some weird reason.

He didn’t have much time to think as he saw a car drive up the dirt road, your car. He didn’t tell the boys about your arrival, in fact he planned on just throwing his bags in the trunk and leaving. You, however, were not going to let that happen.

You parked the car before swinging the door open, a wide smile on your face as the team came out to see who this new person was. You could tell they were on edge, their faces hardened and all their arms crossed against their chest as they watched you.

Much to their surprise, Ghost walked right on over to you and put his hands on your waist.

“Did you have to come here? I told you I could’ve taken the plane like normal” he grumbled, his hands rubbing little circles on your hips as you tilted your head to look up at him.

“Obviously I had to come. For one I missed you” you placed your own hands on his waist, giving it a little squeeze

“And for two I wanted to finally meet your team! I think I’ve been kept a secret for long enough”

“They’re a bunch of bastards, ya got plenty of friends at home why do ya need more?”

You just put your hand on his masked face, pushing him away from you gently as you made your way over to the team.

Their once defensive stance turned to one of confusion, Soap staring at you with wide eyes while Price had a shit eating little smirk on his face. Gaz was glancing between you and Ghost, still trying to figuring out what was going on.

You were already bouncing on your toes as you stuck your hand out to greet them.

“hi! I’m y/n. You must be Captain Price” you said as the man slowly grabbed yours, giving it a quick shake before letting go.

“Yeah, kid, I am. Who are you?” He questioned, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh-right. Duh” you said with a little laugh.

“I’m Simons husband” you said simply, watching as their mouths dropped open, their jaws practically on the floor.

“Husband?” Soap asked, to which you responded with a nod.

“But how-? You’re so” he gestured to you vaguely

“And he’s so” he gave the masked man a scowl

“Yeah well it wasn’t easy, he thought I was a spy at first sent to ‘infiltrate the team and take it down from the inside’ you should’ve seen the way he-“

“That’s enough” Simon said, quickly interrupting you before you could continue the story and embarrass him even more.

You just laughed it off, moving on to shake Gaz’s hand

“Kyle, right?” You asked to which he gave a little nod

You then, finally turned to soap, giving him a little smile

“And you must be Mr.MacTavish, I’ve heard a lot about you” you said as he shook your hand

“Mostly good things, don’t worry”

“Mostly?” He asked. He liked you already, Simon could tell. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or an awful one.

You just gave him a wink before dropping his hand “I’ve heard a lot about all of you, honestly. I won’t get into it though. Not with Mr.grumpy around at least” you gestured towards your husband.

“Alright alright you met them, can we get going now?” He asked, trying to gently tug you back towards the car. He wanted to go home, wanted to cuddle up with you and have all of your attention.

“Aww don’t take him away so soon!” Soap protested “we just met the lad! At least let us get him something to eat after he drove all that way”

Simon didn’t even get a chance to reply as Soap took your arm and nearly dragged you inside, the rest of the team following close behind and leaving Ghost alone.

With a shake of his head and a grumble he made his way into the base, headed towards the common room where he knew they’d most likely be.

He nearly walked in, stopping himself as he saw you surrounded by the boys. You were telling stories about him at home, how sweet he was when he wasn’t at work, and while he wanted to stop you he didn’t have it in him too.

Not with the way the team was laughing, or how widely you were smiling. He leaned against the doorway, arms over his chest as he just…watched. He had his own little smile under the mask, content in just watching the people he loved most bonding.

He supposed he should’ve introduced you sooner, the team seemed to love you already, and he couldn’t help but feel bad that he blocked you off from this for so long.

With a soft sigh he walked over, taking a spot next to you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and just leaned his head back on the couch. He didn’t have to leave right away, he could give you a little longer to have fun.

Letting you meet the team was a big step for him, and you were grateful that he took it. It was the last part of his life you were let into, and it was scary for him. It was just another thing that could make you want to leave him, but here you were. Having the time of your life with his little family.

He loved you, with his entire heart and soul. This just proved that you loved him exactly the same.

As always, requests are open

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #cod x male reader #male reader #simon riley x male reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x gn reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x male reader

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lemongrass-and-peppermint · 3 months

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Semi-Realistic Simon “Ghost” Riley Romance Headcanons!

Only semi-realistic because I'm delusional about this man

TW: mentions of angst, drugs, violence

Doesn’t go out looking for romance or dates—you’re most likely to meet him at a pub (the other TF141 boys will introduce you) or at a gym ( probably will only talk to you if you need help with some equipment).

I headcanon the man to be on the aroace spectrum in the sense that he just has no interest in either romance or sex whatsoever until he actually Meets someone. Like he can feel attraction but doesn’t pursue that at all.

And then even if he does fall in love he will not take initiative bc he’s genuinely fine just being friends.

If you wanna date this man then you need to take all the initiative, both romantically and sexually.

He won’t be completely cold though! Will initiate physical touch and affection all on his own. Depending on your size, he will either sling an arm around your shoulders or your lower back, likes to hold your hand.

Won’t be as touchy in public as at home but he will tolerate pretty much any touch from you! Doesn’t get embarrassed easily so if you start dancing in the streets he’ll mostly just keep watch to make sure nobody walks into you or you don’t trip. Will let you use him as a dancing partner even if he’s as still as a pole.

I think he gravitates to people that are both strong physically to some degree and also traumatized or a little fucked up. He might not know abt any of that for sure when u meet but he has a sixth sense for these things.

Regardless, he will make sure you know how to take care of yourself. Marksmanship training and workouts incoming, plus self-defense classes. It is a must, especially if you’re a woman or otherwise fem-presenting/visibly queer/vulnerable.

If you use mobility aids, he might get a *bit* overprotective of them and you. Will be grabby with wheelchairs until it is sternly explained to him to Not Do That. It makes him feel better when he can help you, but he understands and respects your independence!

If anything happens that will cause you to need mobility aids (such as a car accident or physical illness) this man’s taking a long ass leave and staying with you to help you out. He probably knows of some retired military men with mobility aids and assistance needs and will contact them to get a better idea of how to help you.

I see him as someone who likes to work with his hands so I can imagine him straight up building you mobility aids or wheelchairs and walkers and stuff like that. It might take him a couple of attempts until he makes something serviceable but he’d get there.

He is generally extremely calm, naturally just quiet. Still very much a family man (have you seen how he’s with his family in the comics????). He’s very soft, likes to be helpful and take charge of the household like a housewife more than ‘head of the family’ (you're most likely to be the 'top' here).

Will request control of finances if you’re a spender. Might forcibly take control over finances if you're really shit at them.

As calm as he is though, he is still a military man, and they are statistically likely to be… less than stellar partners. Ghost is never violent and if he gets mad he prefers to leave the house, put some distance between the two of you to calm down.

He will be especially prone to disappearing while mad/upset if you’re a woman/fem-leaning, because due to his upbringing he struggles with intrusive thoughts of violence towards women.

If you are the type to throw things, hit things, or degrade/insult him during arguments, he is permanently leaving and not coming back. No amount of apologizing is going to change that decision. He has self-respect and will not stand being abused or mistreated like that. His feelings for you disappear into thin air if you’re that type of angry person.

His toxicity would mostly come from him being emotionally unavailable and thus neglectful. He just has a hard time understanding how some actions come off. Will need long, mature conversations about it that will be difficult for both sides to get things settled here. Willing to hear and understand and change though! But you’d have to give him very clear instructions and behaviors to model.

Ghost’s brother, Tommy (rip), was addicted to drugs and almost died because of them, was quite the piece of shit—which Ghost rectified by forcing him into sobriety and getting him a wife. As such, Ghost hates drugs because he knows what they can do, and doesn’t partake in any. Even medical drugs, especially ones for depression (which he should be taking) are pushing it for him.

However, if he ever starts spiralling—which is rare but can happen—he goes for them real quick. Like, he jumps off the deep end. The spirals very often lead towards suicidal ideation and within a day he can go from “doesn’t even look at drugs” to overdosing on heroin.

Will be in a horribly fragile state for at least a week afterwards. Will need a lot of care and comfort to stay in a relationship (especially after the first time he spirals with you present), cause he’s still eye-deep in self-hatred and needs help to see past it. Grows extra clingy in that period if he has been Convinced. Like, hands on you all the time, following you to every room. He almost lost this??? Let him appreciate it now that he can do it again.

He’s gonna need some time to return to himself. Especially if he was in a hospital. He hates that place.

Will go to therapy but is not happy about it. If you’ve been together long, he might request that you come with him but listen to music so you can’t actually hear anything—he just wants to hold you like a stress ball.

Will melt if you go out of your way to do romantic gestures. He doesn’t do these often himself—at least not the stereotypical ones like flowers—but if you do it for him??? He might not show it with much enthusiasm, but he grows very quiet and soft and smiley, obsesses over the gift for as long as it lasts and needs to stay close to you for a while after. It’s a very small joy but it is marrow-deep and warm, soothing and comforting.

Overall I hc him as being very reserved emotionally but a pretty good boyfriend! If you have rejection sensitive dysphoria I can imagine you going thru the trenches with this man tho—curse his lack of facial expressions ToT

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod x reader #cod headcanons #simon riley x reader

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dontyouworrydaddy · 10 months

Note

Our 141 boys, Konig and Los Vaqueros with a so who likes to mercilessly tease them all the time. She's a minx, proud of it and she loves seeing her man loose his stoicism whenever she's up to her shenanigans. Thanksies 😁

Say yes to me

Task force 141 (+ König & Los Vaqueros) x Reader

YES. I‘VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A WHILE NOW AND LET ME TELL YOU… I HAVEN’T BEEN THE SAME EVER SINCE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING ME THIS😭😭🫶🏽

KÖNIG

König exuded an aura of power and authority. His every move was calculated and precise, leaving no room for any mistakes. However, there was something about you that sparked a mischievous fire within. You couldn't help but take pleasure in teasing him and pushing his boundaries if only for a moment. Because today you woke up and chose violance.

"Ah, König," you purred, sidling up to him, your voice dripping with seduction. "You know, I can't resist the urge to play with fire. And you, my dear, are the most sexiest flame I‘ve ever laid my eyes on."

His gaze flickered towards you, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity dancing in his eyes. You could see the battle within him, torn between maintaining his composure and succumbing to the allure of your teasing. Oh how you loved to test his limits. Especially because you know how easily he gets shy.

You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over his ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Tell me, darling, does it make you feel alive when I unravel your control? When I peel away those layers of proud until there's nothing left but desire?"

A barely perceptible shudder coursed through his body, his defenses weakening under your seducing influence. You reveled in the power you held over him, relishing every moment of his unraveling.

"Damn you, liebling" he growled, his voice laced with equal parts frustration and desire. "You take pleasure in torturing me, don't you?"

A wicked smile graced your lips as you pressed yourself against him, feeling the heat emanating from his body. "Oh baby, torturing you is a pastime I indulge in with great delight. After all, it's when you lose control that I find you truly exciting."

Your words hung in the air, charged with an electric tension. You watched as he struggled to maintain his composure, his hands twitching by his sides, desperate to touch you but resisting the urge. The battle between his desire and self-restraint played out before you. You can see him struggling.

But you were not one to let the game end so quickly. With a grin, you trailed a finger along his covered jawline, relishing the way his breath hitched at your touch. "Tell me, my love, how badly do you want me? How far are you willing to go to sate this burning hunger that consumes us both?"

König's resolve finally crumbled, his ironclad control slipping away. With a fierce determination he pulled you into his embrace, his lips claiming yours with a passion that ignited the very core of your being. In that moment you felt like nothing mattered anymore.

As the world around you faded into insignificance, consumed by the fire of your desires, you reveled in the knowledge that you, and only you, had the power to unravel the unshakable König.

No mission or obstacle could ever compare to the intoxicating game of desire you played with König. Two souls forever entwined in a dance of passion, power and a never ending affection.

Simon Riley

From the moment you laid eyes on Simon, you knew he was a man who craved control, both on and off the battlefield. His perfectly tailored suit, darkened mask, and piercing eyes exuded an air of mystery and command. But oh, how you loved to unravel him just to see that stoicism falter and his walls crumble under your relentless teasing.

You reveled in the power you held over him. Whenever you were near, mischief danced in your eyes, and a playful smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

As the two of you found yourselves alone in the dimly lit safehouse, you couldn't resist the opportunity to test the limits of his control. You sauntered over, your steps deliberately slow and seductive, making sure every movement drew his attention. Your fingertips brushed against his arm, a light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through both of you.

"Hey there, handsome," you purred, your voice laced with a teasing tone. "Have I ever told you how much I enjoy seeing you hold things so tightly? Reminds me of some things…"

Simon's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he fought to maintain his composure. "You know what you’re doing to me, don't you?" he growled, his voice heavy with desire and frustration. "You're a temptress, a very needy woman and you take delight in making me lose control."

You feigned innocence, tilting your head to the side and batting your eyelashes innocently. "Me? A temptress and needy? Well, I suppose I can't help it if I bring out the best in you, darling."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, his voice a barley a whisper. "Oh, you have no idea what you do to me. The way you tease, the way you challenge me…it's exhilarating and infuriating all at once. Luckily we can go home sooner than planned. Because I am almost done here."

A mischievous glint danced in your eyes as you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips barely brushing against his ear as you whispered, "But that's the best part, my dear. Watching you, get nervous whenever I touch you in a different way. It's intoxicating."

Simon's grip tightened on your waist, his eyes darkening with raw desire. His voice was a low growl as he admitted defeat, surrendering to the power you held over him. "You win, you always do. But know this, my love, I wouldn't have it any other way. Now focus because I wanna ride home as soon as I can."

A triumphant smile curved your lips as you pressed a soft kiss against his jawline. "Oh Simon, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. But don't worry, I promise it'll be the most thrilling ride of your life."

“Fuck, love. Stop saying stuff like that because I am really holding back from bending you over this table right now” he growls and smile at him innocently. You slowly let your hand walk down his pants and let it sit there for a few seconds.

“Very professional.” you whisper and walk away from him, leaving him unfocused and hard.

John MacTavish

As John settled onto the bed, you couldn't help but smirk mischievously, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. The dimly lit room created an intimate ambiance, heightening the allure of your playful banter. John's strong, impassive had always intrigued you but it was your knack for merciless teasing that brought out the vulnerability in him, a side reserved only for you.

Sitting beside him, you leaned back, your fingertips tracing invisible patterns on the sheets. You directed your gaze at John, your eyes brimming with something evil. With a knowing grin, you tilted your head slightly, your voice filled with tantalizing allure.

"So, how's that heart of steel holding up today? I must say, it's quite entertaining to watch you get nervous around me."

John's brows furrowed ever so slightly, his piercing gaze meeting yours. The corners of his lips twitched, betraying the hint of a smile. He couldn't resist your playful taunts and you reveled in the power it gave you over him.

"You," he replied, his voice deep and gravelly, "Are a dangerous creature that takes pleasure in seeing me lose all my senses."

You chuckled softly, a seductive melody that danced through the air. Closing the distance between you, your thigh brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. The heat between you grew palpable, crackling with an undeniable tension.

With a flick of your hair and a sultry gaze, you leaned closer, your lips grazing his earlobe. "But admit it baby, you love every moment of it. You secretly crave the way I toy with your emotions, unraveling the seemingly impenetrable fortress around your heart."

John's breath hitched, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed hard. You could see the fire in his eyes, a reflection of the desire that burned within him. But he remained resolute, determined to maintain his composure, even as you tested the limits of his selfcontrol.

Your fingertips danced along his jawline, tracing the rough contours with gentle strokes. "You know," you whispered, your voice laced with velvet, "there's something undeniably exhilarating about watching the mighty John MacTavish succumb to my wiles."

A low rumble resonated from deep within John's chest, a mixture of frustration and longing. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to grasp throat, making sure to show you what you’re doing to him. His touch was warm and soft, not meaning to hurt you in a harmful way.

"Believe me, I wouldn't have it any other way," John confessed, his voice husky with desire. "For you, I would willingly relinquish all control, just to witness that spark ignite in your eyes."

You grinned, your eyes shimmering with satisfaction. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you entangled in an emotional state of desire, lust and affection.

John Price

John leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the computer screen as he scanned through mission reports. The silence was broken only by the tapping of the keyboard.

Across the room, you lounged in your own chair. You loved teasing John, pushing his boundaries and seeing him break his manners.

With a smile, you leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm and watched as he furrowed his brow, clearly engrossed in his work. You couldn't resist the urge to provoke him. Clearing your throat, you let out a low and seductive voice.

"You" your voice dripping with playful mischief, "seem awfully serious today, John. Maybe you need a little distraction?"

John's eyes flicked up from the screen, meeting your gaze. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but he maintained his composure. "I'm in the middle of something important, love. Maybe later."

You let out a soft chuckle, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. Leaning back in your chair, you crossed your legs, deliberately drawing his attention to your playful display. You reveled in the power you had over him, the way he couldn't help but steal glances in your direction.

"Oh, I see," you responded while biting your lower lip. Your voice laced with disappointment. "Too busy saving the world to enjoy a little company, huh? Well, maybe I'll just have to entertain myself then."

As you spoke, you began to slowly run a finger along the edge of your exposed thigh, deliberately tracing the path along your skin. You watched as John's jaw tightened ever so slightly, a subtle sign that your little game was starting to have an effect.

Unable to resist, he finally tore his gaze away from the computer screen, his eyes fixated on your movements. The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension as you locked eyes, both of you acutely aware of the electricity between you.

"You're playing with fire, love," John warned, his voice husky with a mixture of desire and restraint. "You know what happens when you tease me like this."

Your lips curled into a mischievous smile. "Oh, I know exactly what happens." your voice dropping to a low whisper. "But I also know how much you love it when I push your buttons."

With that, you slowly rose from your chair, the silence in the room now heavy with anticipation. John's eyes followed your every movement, a mixture of desire and frustration evident in his gaze. The tension between you was unbelievable as you slowly made your way towards him, your fingers gently tracing a path along his jawline.

"And what happens," you whispered, your voice barely audible "when you say yes to me?"

John lets a low growl escaping his lips as he pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist. "You’re gonna find out now"

The work didn’t matter anymore because in that moment he slowly bends you over his table and he gets on both of his knees while his face is dangerously close to your heating clit.

Kyle Garrick

"You," you began your sentence "have the most adorable scowl when you're deep in thought, Kyle."

He glanced at you, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You find my scowls adorable now? I thought you were here to tease me mercilessly."

A playful grin spread across your face as you leaned closer, tracing a finger along the edge of his jawline. "Oh I am. But teasing you is so much more fun when I get to see you loose yourself. Even if it's just for a moment."

He let out a soft chuckle, his eyes glimmering with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I should have known I couldn't hide anything from you."

You shrugged, your fingers now trailing lazily down his neck. "It's not my fault you wear your emotions on your sleeve when I'm around. Besides, it's one of the things I love about you."

Kyle's expression softened, his hand reaching out to gently grasp yours. "And I love that cute sparkle in your eyes and the way you challenge me. Always keeping me on my toes."

A devilish smirk played on your lips as you tilted your head, your voice dripping with playful taunting. "Well, I can't help it if I enjoy watching you go weak, my dear. Especially when you’re under me…"

He leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper. "Is that so? Well, let's see how you handle it when the tables are turned."

Before you could react, Kyle swiftly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You gasped in surprise, feeling a rush of heat spreading through your body as his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck.

Your breath hitched, and you fought to maintain your composure. "Touché, Kyle," you managed to utter, your voice laced with a mix of desire and determination. "But don't think this means I'm going to surrender so easily."

He chuckled against your skin, his hands sliding up your sides in a tantalizingly slow manner. "Yeah let’s see, my lady."

Alejandro

The sun shone brightly on the expansive garden as you lounged by the pool, basking in the warm embrace of a lazy summer afternoon. Alejandro, your way too hot boyfriend, joined you, his chiseled form gliding through the water. As he emerged, droplets cascading off his toned body, you couldn't resist but to unleash your nature upon him.

With a playful smirk on your lips, you eyed Alejandro intently. Your gaze lingered on the way his wet hair clung to his forehead, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. Your heart fluttered at the sight, fueling your determination to tease him relentlessly.

"Alejandro, Alejandro. If only you knew what you got yourself into"

His brows furrowed, but in a good way. He knew all too well what you were telling him with that devilish persona. It was your desire speaking and he knew it.

As you rose from your seat, the pool's edge became your stage. Your every movement exuded confidence and allure as you swayed your hips, the delicate fabric of your bikini accentuating your curves. Alejandro's gaze followed your every motion, a mixture of love, lust and fascination in his eyes.

"The woman you are, mi amora," he said, a trace of admiration lacing his words. "Si supieras lo que me gustaría hacerte, mi amora."

You chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, Alejandro… I think you forgot that I don’t understand spanish. But I love you talking to me in spanish."

Alejandro's attention was fixated on you, his gaze tracing the lines of your body. Slowly, you descended into the water, allowing the cool embrace to envelop you. The playful splashes that followed were deliberate, intended to draw Alejandro closer.

As he approached, you moved with the grace of a siren, closing the distance between you. Water droplets clung to your skin, glistening like tiny diamonds and you reveled in the effect it had on him. Alejandro's touch was firm yet gentle as he pulled you close, the warmth of his body electrifying against your own.

"I didn’t even start and you’re already weak" you whispered, your lips grazing his earlobe. The tingling sensation it elicited sent shivers down his spine.

"Es tu apariencia. Cariño, ¿cómo se supone que no voy a estar nervioso cuando me miras así?" he whispers something in spanish which you will never understand. But your smirk grew wide as you let your hands go down into the water…

(MY SPANISH IS DEFINITELY NOT GOOD SO PLEASE DON‘T JUDGE. LOVE YAAA)

Rudy

You lay in bed, the soft sheets enveloping your body as you watch Rudy, lying beside you. A playful grin dances across your lips as you plan your next move. You love teasing him, seeing his composure crumble under your charm.

"You are far too serious for your own good." Your fingers trace delicate patterns on his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. The rise and fall of his breath betrays his calm exterior, and you revel in the knowledge that you have the power to rattle him.

Rudy's eyebrows furrow slightly, his eyes fixed on your face as he tries to maintain his unflappable facade. But you know him better than that. You know the effect you have on him. Your playful antics never fail to get a reaction.

Leaning closer, your lips brush against his ear, your breath warm and tantalizing. "Tell me, Rudy…" you whisper, the timbre of your voice causing a shiver to run down his spine, "how long do you think you can keep up this tough guy act?"

His jaw tightens, his control waning as your words weave their way through his defenses. You relish in the power dynamics between you, loving the way he fights to keep his emotions in check, even as desire flickers in his eyes.

Your fingertips trail down his chest, tracing the lines of his defined muscles. You feel his body react, betraying the effect your teasing has on him. But you're not finished. Yet.

With a smirk, you lean back, your gaze filled with inappropriate thoughts. "I know how much you love being in control, Rudy." you tease, emphasizing his name to emphasize the intimate connection between you. "But sometimes, losing control can be good, don't you think?"

Rudy's lips part slightly, his breath catching in his throat as your words seep into his core. The cute soldier is at your mercy. The tables have turned, and you revel in the role reversal. The victory is yours.

Your hand glides lower, grazing the waistband of his boxers. "What would you do…" you murmur, your voice husky, "if I were to take control right now, Rudy?" The intensity in your eyes locks with his and for a moment, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment.

A spark ignites within him, an unspoken desire mirrored in his gaze. The games you play have awakened a side of him he thought long buried, and now, he craves the wild you.

The battle lines blur as he surrenders to the temptation. A hint of a smile curling on his lips. "You" he murmurs, his voice laced with a mix of defiance and desire. "Have always been my weakness"

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arcaneauthor · 1 year

Text

Tattoos Tell A Story part 2

Part 1 here, Part 3 here

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Summary: You decide to give Ghost a taste of his own medicine

Warnings: None?, Some kissing??, FLUFF, Ghost being bby gurl

A/n: This was requested by @v1naco . I hope I did your wonderful idea justice! Also how the heck did this end up so long??

You would like to make one thing clear.

You love watching Simon get tattoos.

Not only is his deliciously huge arm on full display, but the way his muscles flex when the needle hit a particularly sensitive part of his arm?

Oh you were down bad.

Yes you know he’s technically in pain but come onnn-

He had wanted to get the date of one of his most recent victorious mission tattooed on the inside of his bicep.

What kind of mission was it? You weren’t sure, you know, with it being “classified” and all.

He told you in secret at home

Once told of his plans, you had immediately accepted to tag along and boy are you glad you did. Originally it was for the purpose of just spending as much time with your boyfriend as possible, but you didn’t realize it’d be such a sight.

“Enjoying the view there sweetheart?”

You startle slightly, flicking your eyes away from his arm to Ghost’s masked face. You know there’s a smirk hiding under there somewhere.

Cocky bastard

You clear your throat, repositioning in your seat slightly ,”Uh, no I-I was just….. admiring Jackson’s handiwork.” You claim.

Simon looks you up and down,“Mhm, whatever you say love.”

Jackson, the tattoo artist, just chuckles at the couples antics, eyes never leaving his work.

Ghost knew Jackson pretty well due to him having worked on most of his arm sleeve. He was the only artist in the area that would agree to the service of a scarily large man in a sketchy skull mask and hood, the others immediately declined as soon as he stepped through the door, some even reaching for their phone in a concealed panic. Not that they could really be blamed for their hesitance. He is pretty intimidating if you didn’t know him.

Your eyes now purposefully wander anywhere around the parlor except Simon. You would not be giving him the pleasure of catching you gawking again.

Your gaze skims over a variety of stencils hung on the walls. You never minded the idea of getting a tattoo yourself, you were just too indecisive to ever settle on one.

But maybe one of Jackson’s will stick out to me, you think as you exam the references pinned to the wall

Maybe a bird?

Or a moon?

Possibly a flower?

Oo, that bunny’s pretty cute.

Maybe a-

Wait

Is that-

You squint your eyes to see it clearer, before they quickly widen again

It is

You can’t help the slight maniacal smirk that overtakes your face

That one’s perfect

-+-

It had been about a week since the tattoo parlor and honestly? You had almost forgotten about the whole thing. Simon had still yet to notice your skins new…..addition. You’d think a military man would be more observant.

Although, in your boyfriends defense, it was so small and in such a hidden place that even you yourself had a hard time seeing it.

You and Ghost were in the kitchen together, him in charge of the noodles while you made the sauce. Normally y’all would just order some take-out, but you both decided to try something new. Neither you or him were five star chefs by any means, only able to follow along to a recipe. A very detailed recipe.

You were leaning over the stove just trying to stir the ingredients though your hair obviously did not get the memo. No matter what you did, tucking it behind your ear, blowing it back with your mouth, it just would not get out of your face.

You pull a strand in front of you, eyes almost crossing from it being so close, and glared at it as if it had personally offended you.

I swear to gosh, one day I’m just gonna freaking shave all of it off-

“Here,” comes a distinctly deep, British voice from behind. When had he gotten over here?,”Let me.”

You feel the strands of hair get pulled gently from your grasp as he gradually gathers it all into one extremely large hand. He gingerly rakes his fingers through your locks, eliminating any knots or lumps. Using the hair band from his wrist, where did he get that from?, he joins all of it into a ponytail.

You’re kinda sad to feel his fingers retreat from your scalp.

You run a hand over your head, examining his work. You’re fairly surprised to feel that there’s only a small hump or two.

“Hm, not bad for a man with sandpaper hands.” You jest with a smile.

You don’t get a response

The sound of breathing coming from behind tells you he hasn’t moved either.

“Simon?” You question, turning to look over your shoulder.

The man in question was standing stock still, you’d think he was a mannequin if not for his chest moving up and down. His gaze zeroed in on your ear.

You instinctively raise a hand to the spot in question, and that’s when it finally dawns on you.

He’s not looking at your ear.

No, he’s looking behind it.

You smile

So your little game of spot the difference was finally over.

“You like it?” You ask smugly

Simon doesn’t know what to say, just eye’s the nape of your neck in bewilderment. This was absolutely not here before. Where your skin was previously unblemished, now contains a tattoo about the size of his thumb.

A skull tattoo.

“When did you get this?” He asks instead, finger coming up to rub over it, almost as if he thinks it’s fake, thinks that the ink will smudge under his thumb.

“‘Bout a week ago.” You admit with a shrug, trying to be nonchalant about it.

His eyes finally shift to your face,”And you didn’t tell me?”

You shoot him an unimpressed look, grabbing his arm that contains the tattoo of your name and pushing it in his face,”Hypocritical much?”

He looks from his arm, to your tattoo, then to your face, as if he was putting together a puzzle.

“Is the tattoo an expression of love or a ploy of revenge?” He asks with suspicion.

You shrug, a smile gracing the corner of your mouth,”Can’t it be both?”

He eyes you for a moment, shaking his head in exasperation, but you could of swore his eyes lit in amusement.

Oh!

You about forgot something!

“Did you notice any details about it, a letter perhaps?” You question coyly.

No he hadn’t

He gently grips your chin to turn it to the side, dipping his head a little to get a closer look.

Oh.

He can see it now.

There’s a few cracks on the side of the skull and , if he looks close enough, he can see that they join to make a letter.

“Does tha-does that stand for-“

“Simon? Yeah, yeah it does.”

He stands there, just silently rubbing your tattoo again for a moment. You’re not complaining though, you’re just soaking in his touch. His fingers feel good.

You clear your throat, gently taking a hold of the hand rubbing your neck,”So? You like i-“

You’re cut off by him surging forward, capturing you in a kiss.

Definitely worth the pain of the needle.

-*-

You were both laying in bed after supper, your stomachs full. Full of take-out, not home cooked pasta because you may or may not have gotten distracted and singed the noodles and turned the toast to basically charcoal.

You were in a spooning position, his large arms wrapped around your waist, mask finally taken off in the darkness of your room.

“You know,” He breaks the silence,”I really do appreciate it, the tattoo.”

“Thought it was only fair. You know, with you getting one for me and all.” Your voices are soft, just whispers in the night.

“You know you didn’t have to do it, right? Not just cause I did.” Anyone that didn’t know Simon would judge from his gruff voice that he was bored or uninterested, maybe even irritated. But you did know him, which means you easily pick up on even the slightest hint of hesitation in his voice.

Your brows furrow,”That’s not the only reason I got it.”

When you receive only silence you look over your shoulder at him, “You know that, right?” You ask as if it was obvious. You thought it was.

Once again, you receive only silence. You really wish it wasn’t so dark so you could read his expressions.

You shift your body so that you’re fully facing him.

“Hey,” you reach for the hand around you’re waist and hold it to your chest,”You know I love you right?”

“Yeah?” You don’t like that he sounds so hesitant.

“Simon,” you make sure he knows you’re serious,”I love you. You’re the only person I ever want to love, and I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, and I sure as heck ain’t planning going anywhere anytime soon. So why wouldn’t I want evidence of you on my body?” You use your other hand to cup his cheek.

The breath he lets out sounds shaky, letting you know your little speech hit him right in the way you wanted it to. You can’t see anything but the outline of his figure, though you swear you can feel his gaze piercing you.

He brings the hand you’re not holding to rub the spot behind your ear where you know his initial lies.

“I love you too,” He confesses on a quivering exhale.

You slowly lean in for a kiss, not quite sure where his lips are in the dark but somehow hitting them almost perfectly the first try, almost as if it was second nature to you now. That’s something you never really felt before Simon. Sure you had locked lips with other guys but you never knew there could be such emotion in just a kiss. With him, it’s almost like your minds, as well as your lips, are closely connected for that moment. You can feel the love, the passion, the joy, all of it with just a touch of mouths.

Ghost is the one to break it first, breath fanning over your face as he speaks,”I just have one question.”

“Hm?” Your mind is still frazzled by that short intense make out session.

“Was it when I went to the bar with Johnny that Friday?”

Your mind slowly catches on to what he’s saying, letting out a small giggle. That’s confirmation enough for him.

“And you said you were just gonna have a lazy night in?” His fake anger makes your giggles worse.

“You went to the stinking parlor instead didn’t you?”

You don’t even know why this has tickled you so badly, but soon Simon’s own deep chuckles join yours.

He pulls you into his chest, “Sneaky girl.”

You two just laugh harder

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ofsappho · 1 year

Text

Heartless, Chapter 2

🔞 Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

Your wedding night. Tags under read more.

Tags: degradation kink, praise kink, size kink, consent negotiation, they egg each other on, gaslight gatekeep girlboss reader, pet names (whore, love, doll, good girl, pretty girl, bitch (yes this is used as a pet name I promise))

You watch the military chaplain sort through the prepared marriage license while the world’s largest butterflies do artistic gymnastics in your stomach.

Soap is the religious one out of the two of you, the Catholic one. You would’ve preferred a judge and a courthouse wedding more than this. But there was no time, and the headache of getting an American recognized by the multi-national special forces whatever-the-fuck just wasn’t worth it.

So a chaplain it is.

Soap has told you little about the soldier you’re set to marry. In his defense, he argued that there was very little to tell. Lt. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley’s personnel file is too classified for a mere civilian, and there are only two single-sided sheets of paper’s worth of information in there anyways.

The bare bones - he’s British. (Of course, he is.) He wears a mask that he never takes off. He’s served many tours, in many places. And while Johnny was remarkably diplomatic about the wording, he did caution you that Ghost’s reputation precedes him and terrifies almost everyone who hears it. With good, justified cause.

Lovely.

But the cold, crawling fingers of desperation and the memory of the times when you couldn’t afford to go to the doctor reminded you of your priorities. And so you have agreed to bind yourself to some dude with a ridiculous, overwrought moniker.

After more than a few years of dealing with medical bureaucracy, military bureaucracy is hardly a match for you. You’ve come prepared with the family accommodations application filled out. You have copies of your identifying documents, birth certificates. The basic background check completed.

Once this is done and solemnized, Soap has volunteered to run it personally to his commanding officer like a good little messenger boy. An early wedding gift, he called it.

You’ve asked him for a Keurig just to be an asshole. And whether or not he got one, for real, Soap won’t say.

All that’s left is to… well. Say the vows and hope no one looks close enough to demand ‘proof.’ Like you’re in some awful fucking medieval romance novel. It’s 2023. You refuse to relinquish any bedsheets. Gross. And they’re expensive.

Lt. Riley still has fifteen minutes before the ceremony is supposed to start.

You’re only early out of an abundance of caution and anxiety. There was only so much sitting around in your old apartment and waiting for the clock hands to move you could take, not after you spent all night packing your life into your car and then climbed out onto your roof to watch the sunrise.

The next one you see, you will be a wife.

Even though Soap refused to show you a picture of Lt. Riley, you did your best to look somewhat presentable. For the pictures. And maybe a little bit for him.

The nicest dress you own, the jewelry you always wear.

Shit. Jewelry. Ring.

“Soap. Soap. I don’t have a ring.” Oh, that’s just your fucking luck, isn’t it? You have remembered literally everything. Your potato masher, your books, and the last of your immunosuppressants are packed into a cooler filled with ice.

Other than the one thing you absolutely need.

Your friend stares at you from the corner of his eye. “What do you mean, you don’t got a ring?”

The chaplain’s going to turn and ask what’s wrong any second.

Before he notices, you grab Soap’s bicep and drag him into a corner as the last of your forced calm flees. “I don’t have a ring,” You hiss as your polished nails dig into his dress uniform.

That’s something you should thank him for after this calamity passes. At least your maid of honor is appropriately attired as if this were a real wedding. Or maybe Johnny is a matron of honor because he hasn’t been a virgin in years? Whatever.

His exasperation is less than reassuring. “Alright. Calm down. Calm down, lass. We’ll sort that out later-“ The chapel doors open, cutting him off.

Wow. You thought that Soap was kidding about the mask. That’s a mask.

A balaclava. With a skull on it. Edgy.

Oh, but he’s tall. Taller than you, taller by a couple of inches than Soap. That must really piss your friend off. He is… very tall. And heftily built.

No dress uniform. Just a black sweatshirt showing ripples of defined, bulky muscles underneath and dark wash jeans. And eye black obscures the skin around his eyes, everything his mask doesn’t cover.

It seems impractical, though you can’t deny the shiver of awe that flicks through your nerves when Lt. Ghost meets your inquisitive gaze. His irises are so dark that you can’t distinguish his pupils, leaving you with the impression of looking into twin black holes.

Do you shake his hand? Do you…

You wait for him to make the first move, and he makes no move at all.

“Hi, Lt. Riley,” You say softly, almost timidly. First impressions tend to go better when you make yourself smaller.

For a moment there, you almost think he didn’t hear you. You watch him narrow his eyes as if you’re more than what he was expecting. “License?” He asks after a painfully long awkward silence.

You shove the other papers at Soap, so you have a spare hand to find it. And if you conveniently remain deaf to his protests at being used as a shelf? That’s what maids of honor are for - whatever the bride need.

“License? Oh- uh, yeah, here.” The half-completed form crumples slightly in his hand. It’s from those bulky gloves, and you die a little inside at the sight.

When he hands it back to you with a messy, scrawled signature at all the highlighted blanks, you turn your body away to ensure he overlooks your vain efforts to smooth it out. “Just call me Ghost.”

Damn, this one wrinkle won’t come out. The chaplain will think you’re unprofessional. “Okay, Ghost,” You respond absentmindedly. He hovers in the corner of your eye like his namesake, which is annoying. It’s not as if you’re hiding a fucking bomb over here-

And you stop thinking that immediately. You know, in case they can read minds in this heavily guarded, highly secret special forces base or utilize some tinfoil hat conspiracy theorist's secret weapon. That’s mostly an inside joke you have with yourself. You leave a little room for healthy paranoia to offset the healthy humor.

The chaplain and his small glasses interrupt now that the groom has arrived, and you hand him the still-messed-up license with an embarrassed flush on your cheeks. Thankfully, he takes it without complaint. Maybe a little judgment - and then you remember you have that issue with the rings. There will be more judgment to come.

“Are you ready to begin?” The middle-aged man asks.

Ghost nods almost at the same time you do.

“We are gathered here in the presence of this witness for the purpose of uniting in matrimony Lt. Simon Riley and…”

You tune out the entirety of the cookie-cutter wedding ceremony. The chaplain goes on and on, all sorts of shit about love and forever that you know he has to say but is remarkably humorous in light of your circumstances.

Lt. Riley’s eyelashes are blonde. You couldn’t see it before, but now that you’re inches from him, you can’t look away. They’re a pale platinum blonde that stands out against his dark eyes like threads of ice, and you count each one. Fascinating.

The chaplain clears his throat, then gestures for Ghost to take your hand.

The glove stays on. But he is gentle about it, gentler than what seems natural for his movements. “Do you take Lt. Riley to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?” That’s laying it on a bit thick, you think.”

“I do,” You say, voice low and confident.

“Do you, Lt. Riley, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish as long as you both shall live?”

Something shifts in his gaze. He tilts his head to the side and tracks the features of your face, your full mouth, and your cheekbones. “I do.” You wouldn’t even know where he was looking, had it not been for the stark whites of his eyes darting back and forth.

“The rings?” Your officiant asks.

You hear Johnny stifle a chuckle. Damn him for standing so far away; if he were closer, you’d step on his foot with your heel. “We- the rings are in the mail. They haven’t gotten here yet.” You smile winningly as you hold the chaplain’s bemused stare, practically daring him to call out your poorly-concealed lie.

Ghost hasn’t let go of your hand this whole time. Even he lets out a small huff after seeing your perfect poker face.

“I see. Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

You won't kiss him in front of everyone if he doesn’t lower his mask. As he obviously won’t, you stand on your very tippy-toes and kiss his cheek like you’re at a middle school dance.

Then it’s done, and you’re married.

Ghost pulls his hand back as if you’ve burned him, then steps away before you can ask him any questions.

Just as you try to chase him- “Congratulations, lass,” Soap exclaims, sweeping you into a hug that lifts you off the ground.

It’s got a hell of a lot more than excitement in it; you can feel his relief, and he goes as far as to kiss your forehead like a brother before letting you down.

There’s nothing on earth you can do to repay him. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.” For a moment, you’re children again—two kids against the world.

Johnny takes the license and the rest of your paperwork. “Gotta run this to Chief Laswell. But- you’ll be fine. Don’t be too scared.” You can tell he’s fucking around, but there’s an edge to his voice that you don’t love.

No person can be scarier than a hospital bill. “Worry about yourself, Johnny,” You tell him.

It takes a second for the steel in your eyes to reassure him. Eventually, he nods. “Good luck.” Then he makes his way to Ghost.

They speak in murmurs too quiet for you to hear, and you can see Soap grip his forearm tight enough to bruise. Then they come to some sort of silent consensus. Ghost’s mask gives away absolutely nothing, but your friend seems satisfied enough.

“Uh- pardon me, I’m sure Lt. Riley and yourself are eager to… celebrate the evening.” The chaplain’s acting like you and Ghost are about to start going at each other right here, right now.

That is a known stereotype for hastily-married couples, and he’s probably seen some traumatizing things in this very chapel. Either way, you coordinate a retreat into the hallway to give the poor man a break.

Ghost holds the door open for you, and you wonder what torture Soap promised to get him to do that. He doesn’t seem pleased. You’d tell him that he doesn’t need to bother, but you’re not so invested in Ghost’s immediate happiness, and that’s a lot of work.

Someone’s waiting for you in the corridor. A poor uniformed soldier has been conscripted into acting as envoy on behalf of the Special Forces, and he asks you both to follow him to your temporary quarters.

Right. Yes.

Ghost doesn’t say a word. He matches your steps with uncanny accuracy, and you’re beginning to understand why people sincerely call him by his preferred moniker. It’s fucking freaky, how quickly and efficiently he moves without any sound at all. You might even forget he was there if not for the heavy, uncomfortable weight on your back that reminds you he’s still watching.

Then the soldier rounds a corner and presents you with an open door. The lights are on, and a bouquet of fresh flowers is on the table inside with a little white card.

Your guide hightails it out as soon as you’re through the doorway.

And then Ghost closes the door behind him.

You and him. Alone. There’s no one in the other room or close enough to hear if something goes wrong.

You watch him keep himself busy, circling perimeters and learning exits and entrances, and you think… you wouldn’t mind it if something went wrong.

Reading people is something that can’t be taught, not really. You’re lucky to have come out of the womb with that ephemeral quality clutched tightly in one hand. While the mask makes it difficult, you are… learning. You are noting shifts in posture, inflections of voice, where those dark eyes linger.

You need to collect more data.

“Do I have to call you Ghost? I can’t just call you Simon?” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and the tension in the air tastes electric on your teeth. It will be a coin toss to see which way that tension goes, you think.

“Don’t say that name. ‘M not gonna repeat myself.”

You’ll do as he says because now he’s staring into your eyes without flinching. “Hm. Fine.” Which is what you wanted.

Ghost removes his gloves for a moment to fiddle with his phone, and you can’t help but stare.

He has beautiful hands. Long, thick fingers, knuckles marked with a lifetime’s worth of scar tissue, more scars wrapping themselves like cords across the backs of his hands. Beautiful.

There are tattoos blanketing his left forearm. You can’t see them from here, and you doubt you’ll get to examine them in detail sometime this century. Tattoos are so personal, and it would take words a lot tougher than a question to get through his shark skin persona.

Gloves go back on. And he’s caught you staring. You don’t give a fuck.

You relish the challenge.

Like a feral raccoon or a bored weasel, you’ll push and push and push until you’ve found something entertaining.

Does Ghost think that if he menaces you in silence long enough, you’ll scream when he says ‘boo’? How cute.

Out of nowhere, he slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You’re lookin’ at me.” You could make a snide comment about noticing the obvious, but that’s not the fight you want to pick. Yet.

You’re far more intrigued by the issue of his ghastly, ghoulish, fearsome camouflage. “Do you really, like, wear the mask all the time? Even to sleep? What about eating? You don’t care about getting crumbs all over it?” Your voice would sound genuine if you put a little more effort into it.

Silence. He knows you’re trying to pry him out into the open, and he thinks he can ignore you until you give up.

Your eyes narrow. “Oh, come on. I’m your wife now. I’m allowed to ask questions.” Those fucking icy eyelashes. Your feet move before you realize it, bringing you closer to him so you can repeatedly run the contrast in your mind.

Ghost crosses his burly arms over his chest. “Not if they’re fuckin’ annoying ones,” He snaps back.

That’s one hell of a British accent. Not a posh one; working class, probably not from London.

Like his eyes, hands, and stature, his low, raspy voice is beautiful, too. “Isn’t that what wives are for?” You bait.

You catch his eye roll and match it with a dirty glare. “Do you ever shut up?” Ghost asks, advancing so quickly that you find yourself trapped against the wall, some primal flight instinct activated by his sinuous, menacing stride.

And you’ve been asked that very same question many, many times in your life. “Um… not really,” You toss out. Smugly, like you’re winning whatever fucked-up game is brewing between you. You totally are.

Like this, you must tilt your head to meet his furious eyes. “Fuck. That’s tedious.” Obviously, this is not nearly as tedious as he complains. He’s still here.

Your eyes flick between the door and Ghost’s mask, indicating he’s free to walk away. “Oh, I’m being tedious? Look at me. Look at me. Say that again.” Under your dress, your skin feels warm. As if he’s already touching you.

Ghost takes another step forward. “You… are… being… tedious.” Close enough that his combat boots touch your fancy low heels.

Kissing someone through a mask is very stupid, both in theory and practice. Just as you thought earlier.

Somehow, some way, Ghost makes it work.

Gentleness seems to be a foreign language to him; he wraps one large hand around your jaw, pushing you against the wall, so roughly that pain radiates across your scalp, and digs his index finger and thumb in until he’s holding your mouth open.

And that’s how he kisses you. Forcing you to be exactly as still as he wants and pressing his mask over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut as if this were a real kiss. If this were a real kiss, you’d have your teeth halfway through his bottom lip by now.

Great idea. Just as Ghost moves back, you nip his mask with your teeth. Nothing serious, no real damage. Enough to teach him something about you, more important than words can say.

For only a moment, it lifts from his face. Not in any type of direction where you can see more, but the fabric stretches, and it reminds him that that’s all his mask is. Fabric. Not metal or bone.

“Nah, don’t do that,” Ghost warns before leaning in again.

Fine. This time, you dig your nails into the tiniest revealed sliver of his pale neck as you kiss him until he’s forced to pin your wrist above your head with one gloved hand.

He seeks to chastise you again, but you put a stop to that by arching into his chest instead of away.

This sets the beautiful, pristine line of your neck on display as you tilt your head just the right way. You know your angles, and you bet he probably enjoys holding fragile things in his palms before crushing them the next second.

The unmarked skin above your pulsing carotid artery sure looks fragile.

And, of course, it invites Ghost to dip his burning gaze lower.

You look good. You know you do; you know that your cleavage pops in this dress, you layer perfume to be the most memorable woman in the room, and this confidence has been insulating you all day.

He’s not immune to it. His other hand runs along your exposed collarbones before dipping between your breasts. He takes the fabric of your dress between his fingers, testing the strength of the cloth and construction.

Wait, hold on, this shit was expensive. And unless he’s going to replace it-

Ghost has been too busy staring at your boobs to notice that he’s let go of your wrist, and you pounce on the opening. You’re out of his grasp immediately before peeling the dress off. Shame is for the weak.

His appreciative groan goes straight to your nerves, to your nipples hardening under your sheer bralette and your panties beginning to stick to your skin.

All that newly exposed skin and soft curves turn the desire in his dark eyes into a ruthless hunger.

You watch him walk towards you, circle you. He checks your ass out in the most blatant way possible, so you feel the compliment more than you hear it.

You turn to look at him through lashes all dolled up with mascara and make your eyes round, doe-like - as saccharine as artificially-flavored taffy.

Even through the balaclava, Ghost grins.

“Can I help you with that?” He asks, gesturing to the flimsy metal clasp in the center of your back that holds the bra in place.

His gloved fingers trail down your spine when you sweep your hair from your shoulders. “What a gentleman.” There are dozens of other more productive things he could be doing right now to get you naked.

He coaxes a slight, involuntary shiver from your spine when he digs his fingertips into the curve of your breast, and you dread what will happen when Ghost finds all the other weak spots.

Just as you’re about to end his fun and get this bra off yourself, he undoes the clasp. “Don’t want to ruin your pretty clothes.” A harsh, jagged leather glove edge clips your skin as he does so. While it won’t make you bleed, not even close, you feel he wouldn’t care if something did.

Fuck.

Instead of dropping both arms out obediently so he can slip you out of it all at once, you have the genius idea of sticking out one arm after another.

This forces Ghost to face you as you let the bralette drop.

A flush crawls up your chest, blooming pink and flustered between your breasts. “You think I look pretty?” You ask, barely suppressing the whine from your tone. It’s a real whine, one that speaks to how badly you want this to escalate.

Someone wolf-whistling at your tits usually makes you angry enough to hit them, but Ghost’s whistle makes the blush in your skin burn brighter. “Christ,” He mutters. The bone-white teeth on his mask distort, then stretch, like he’s licking his lips.

You spent a little extra time this morning hunting down a nice pair of lace-trimmed underwear, and now you’re thrilled you bothered. “Gonna make me wait forever?”

The answer is no. He’s on you in the next second, palm flat between your collarbones as he practically shoves you towards the bare regulation mattress, the kind of thing you’d see in a college dorm.

When you land, the slight impact takes your breath away.

But then he sees your thighs pressing together, your hips shifting, and your eyelids flutter. You’re fucking melting from that force alone. “You like it mean?” He wonders, half-mocking, half-genuine.

You push yourself up on your elbows, making your tits bounce more than necessary. Just to watch him lose his train of thought again.

You’re dripping through your panties, you can feel slick arousal on your skin, and he’ll know as soon as you spread your legs. “I like it mean.” Your smile is wide and beckoning. And filled with your own intentionally-grating menace.

After all, he’s asking the wrong question.

The right question is whether he can be mean enough, whether he can touch you with enough cruelty to make you come. Already, your pussy twitches at the thought.

Something glints in his sin-dark eyes. “Good. That’s a good girl.” No, he promised you something else.

“That’s not very mean.”

You get no further warning.

He braces one muscled forearm across your chest to force you down before shoving that hand under your jaw, so your face is entirely in his control. He keeps you looking at the ceiling, and you realize it’s so he can pull his mask down.

Dammit. You try to fight it, dip your jaw to see his face, but his grip is tougher than iron and so tight that it will leave bruises on your chin.

Then you feel his teeth bite into your throat, mark after mark along the length of your neck, and it hurts. It fucking hurts, and your eyes roll back into your head, skin on fucking fire. “God, real eager, ain’t you?” Ghost hisses as you cough and struggle for breath against his hand. “Haven’t known me for twenty-four hours, and you’re already spreading your legs like a whore.”

There are lingering kisses that are just shy of gentle, long lathes of his tongue along your sweaty skin, and then there are savage bites into the side of your breast, in between them, his fingers plucking at the hardened bud of your nipple.

Your mind is empty, completely empty, as your hips grind up towards his and the thick, heavy erection you can feel through his jeans. “You do that for every man who looks at you twice?” You can hardly hear him over your squeaks of pain mixing with pleasure. Now he’s slotted a knee between your thighs, giving you something to rock your covered pussy on.

“Only for the ones who deserve it,” You get out between clenched teeth, holding back your moans, so he doesn’t get that satisfaction.

He chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. “Fuckin’ hell.” When he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking, licking, sending jolts of pleasure through your nerves but hovering on the edge of real damage…

It takes an embarrassingly long time for you to put together a retort. “Jealous that you haven’t had a turn yet?”

“Naw, I ain’t jealous. Ain’t gotta be. I know you want me.” He punctuates his words by cruelly pressing his knee harder into your clit, wrenching a long, tortured sound from your throat.

If he keeps that up… already, something hot and vicious begins to simmer low in your stomach, a hollow ache.

Then he fucking lets up on covering you in marks to watch your face twist in rapture when he does it again. “Come on then, Lieutenant. Big, scary, mean Ghost,” You tell him breathlessly.

Again, his knee, your aching clit, you don’t wanna come all over his pants except you kind of do, and if he realizes that, he’ll make you.

His fingers pluck your nipple one last time. “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ show you.” Then he shoves his mask on haphazardly, withdrawing his hands so he can pull his gloves off. “Take that shit off. Right now,” Ghost orders.

The fabric of your soaked panties rips a little in your enthusiasm to get them away from you, and you toss them in some corner without looking.

And as you hold his gaze, face flushed and dewy from his kisses, you part your legs.

Ghost is so taken by the sight of your glistening, aroused core that he has to sit back for a second and just… “Fuuuck,” He groans, eyes lidded with want.

You run a single teasing hand along the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Still pretty?” Your smile is all teeth, hunger, and a promise that you don’t need him to have a good time.

He shakes his head. “I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches,” Ghost warns. As if he isn’t literally rolling up his sleeves as he speaks. As if you can’t see his muscles strain and flex with the effort of not touching you.

His shoulders are so huge that he casts a shadow when he looks over you. “You will.” You pause to make a show out of sliding your wicked gaze down to his jeans. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to your…” Then Ghost grabs your hips before you can finish your sentence and drags you to the edge of the mattress.

You hear him sigh through his teeth. “Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen. Prettiest tits, prettiest ass… Where have you been hiding?” It seems that he does, in fact, like you self-absorbed. You’ll drag more compliments from his mouth before the night is over, you swear it.

When you try to slip a leg over his shoulder before he’s ready, Ghost traps your soft thighs open and in place with his hands. “The United States of America.” Fuck. Fuck.

He strokes through your folds with two fingers, not deep enough to do anything but tease. Still, you jump as soon as you feel him brush your clit with a feather-light touch.

Ghost takes those two slick fingers and lazily holds them out in front of your mouth. “Look at me, and this is over. You hear me? I don’t give a fuck how much you whine or complain.” You take them in your mouth in a show of obedience that surprises him, eagerly lapping up your musk and the salt of his skin.

But not entirely obedient - you nip his fingertips before you pull away, and a string of saliva stretches between you. “I hear you.” Whatever. Avoiding peeking at his face is, like, the easiest thing someone could do to get eaten out.

He waits until your head is properly thrown back, and you rest a hand over your eyes, so there’s no chance you will look down.

As if remembering your reaction to his earlier mercy, Ghost takes his sweet fucking time doing everything but eat your needy, dripping cunt. Your stupid, annoying, evil husband covers the soft, plush flesh of your thighs in kisses, he licks up the arousal that’s leaked onto your skin throughout this game, he leaves more love bites in the crease of your thigh.

Asshole.

And it feels good. Of course, it feels good, and you’re already a squirming, pleading mess, holding back your sighs because you’ll be damned if he thinks you’ll fold with no effort.

When he finally licks a hot stripe through your folds, carefully sucking at your clit, your resulting moan fucking bursts out of your chest, drawn out and desperate.

You can feel him laugh against your sensitive flesh before he just…

Your hips can’t get closer if you tried, you’re caught between grinding on his face and trying to flinch away as he fucks you with his mouth, Ghost’s tongue moving with unerring precision to pour pleasure like lightning through your veins.

Your cunt clenches around nothing as he goes back and forth, licking, sucking, making your thighs tremble around his face. “Shit, shit, keep doing that, fuck-“ You beg, mouth open because it feels like you can’t breathe. The air tastes hot, like sex, like smoke and bourbon.

Ghost’s groans are barely audible over the sloppy, explicit sounds of his mouth coaxing more slick out of your core, all over his face. “You taste-“ He presses two thick fingers inside. “So fucking-“ It stings, it’s a stretch, he has to lap at your swollen clit with a delicate touch to get you to loosen up. “Good-“ Your muscles twist and spasm around his fingers, fluttering in time with each thrust.

Then he picks up the pace. “Ghost, Jesus, what the fuck are you-“ You sob, gasping as you try to get control over your body. He’s got every reaction, your vocal cords, your nerves, your needy, desperate cunt, entirely in hand.

His free hand digs into your leg, nails aimed to hurt. And like the whore you absolutely are, every time he does that, your stomach tightens further. “No need to say my name twice, love,” Ghost tells you in a voice as smooth as velvet, like he’s endlessly amused at your expense.

“Oh, go fuck yourself,” You bitch before getting that knee over his muscled shoulder and dragging his hot, wet mouth towards your pussy again.

Your shriek fills the air when he bites, like really bites your thigh in revenge. “‘M busy fucking you. Come on, lemme in. Lemme find it.” His fingers-

They’re thrusting into you deeper, he slides his other hand under your hips to angle your pelvis up.

And then you feel him brush something deep inside your pussy that makes you clench as tight as a vice around his hand. “Um, fuck, I-“ Your back arches off the mattress, and you’ve got your eyes screwed shut in pleasure, your free hand flailing around as you try to just- just get everything under control…

You can’t think, can’t speak, he touches that patch of sensitive flesh inside of you, and it just wipes your brain clean, replacing everything with Ghost. “There we go. That’s it,” He coos at your helplessness, smug with the knowledge that all your bravado and rationality fail when his fingers fuck you harder, rougher.

Ghost helps you chase the orgasm gathering on the horizon, so powerful that you can feel it humming like power lines in your teeth. “Hn-“ Your moans rise and echo off the bare walls, and he drags his fingers inside you at the same time he places his mouth on your aching, swollen clit.

“Got 60 seconds to come, or I’ll stop.” It’s right there, just out of reach, like your skin is on fire and your body is so, so, so desperate for everything he can give.

Tears gather in your eyes. “No, please, don’t stop,” You beg, words garbled up with whimpers and cries, tears tracking down your sweaty cheeks.

Whenever your leg tries to hold him in place to fight off the pleasure or your core clamps down so he can’t withdraw his fingers, he fucks you harder. “Pretty girl.” Holy shit. You just need to breathe, to try and focus, but you can’t. It’s so- “Good fucking girl.”

You need to come. You need to come, you’re trying, you don’t want him to leave you like this, so much arousal pours out of your flushed, oversensitive core that it covers his wrist, and your hips begin to buck and shake. “5, 4, 3, 2, 1-“

“I- I’m coming, oh my fucking God-“ Your orgasm drags you down in a fury, pulsing hot and violent. Every muscle trembles and your whimpers reach a fever pitch. And Ghost pries at each scrap of your pleasure he can get, sucking and sucking at your flesh, and you can’t do anything. You have to let him swallow you whole.

You forget how to fucking breathe, and you’re sobbing under the hand over your face, trying to escape the sensation, but you can’t stop coming, clenching, chasing the high.

He lets you ride out the last of it on his hand, helping you through the aftershocks and gentling the pace of his tongue until you’re spent.

When that ringing sound clears from your ears, you sit up with sore stomach muscles and reach for him; mask be damned. Ghost gets the balaclava down over his nose, exposing his mouth shiny with your cum.

Your first real kiss is messy and slick, lips slipping against his and saliva going everywhere. His sticky hands tangle in your hair, and you gasp into his mouth from the sudden, sharp pain. It’s his turn to sigh when you nip at his full bottom lip, a deep, raspy sound that you could become addicted to very easily.

Your fingers slip under the edge of the mask - just where it covers his neck, and Ghost pauses for a moment, lips suspended over yours.

It takes three thundering heartbeats for him to return to kissing the air out of your lungs.

His hair feels short under your fingertips, bluntly cut to a regulation length. You’ve done it before for Soap when he first enlisted. You take your nails over the back of his neck once, then again, hard enough to make it sting.

“Bitch,” Ghost hums, and it’s the softest thing he’s said all evening. Like your teeth and claws are more impressive, more beautiful than your obedience.

Clearly, no one taught him how to behave toward a wife. “Manners.” This time, you draw a little blood from his mouth, and Ghost almost melts into a puddle in your hands.

“Let me fuck you.” He has one hand on your throat, not a chokehold so much as a loose necklace. A wedding ring on your finger couldn’t be more possessive than Ghost’s lingering, eager touch.

And when you press your forehead to his through the mask, he permits it. “I thought you just did.”

Something about his eye roll makes him seem younger. Lighter, more playful. “Let me fuck you again,” He tries. Yeah, no. You’re not a cheap date. “Turn around. Come on.” He has to do better than that.

The look on your face makes him sigh. “Don’t make me beg.”

Next time, he shouldn’t try and give you ideas. Definitely not for free. “What happened to ‘I don’t fuck self-absorbed bitches’?” You ask coyly. You could ask him for anything right now, you think, and Ghost would give it to you.

Pained, aching frustration blooms in his dark brown eyes.

“Jesus, you’re never going to drop that, are you?” Ghost is so cute like this, squirming in his own vaguely-repressed way. He answers you quickly, far more quickly than someone who’s only tolerating this would. “You were right.” The hand on your throat moves delicately across your shoulders, massaging your neck, all luxury and indulgence, a slow seduction.

His words are like music to your ears. “I usually am.” You’re a sucker for that specific compliment. And with Ghost determined to caress every inch of your skin, your arms, the dip of your waist, well…

You bat his wanting hands away and flip yourself over. It takes a little care not to tweak anything, but being on your hands and knees is better for your spine in the long run, anyway.

His large palm runs up and down the length of your back, leaving warmth wherever he goes—softening your muscles, getting you used to his presence when you can’t see him, until you’re relaxed and pliant on the bed.

Fabric rustles behind you. It’s the balaclava; he’s pulled it off and tossed it to the side. You can just see it out of the corner of your eye. “Spoilin’ me with this view, love.” Then Ghost kisses the small of your back as he kneels on the bed, covering your skin with appreciation as he makes his way up.

You can’t help your small, genuinely breathless laugh when he kisses the side of your neck. “Make this good, and you’ll see it a second time,” You promise. Then he palms one of your tits, and you grind your ass against his hard-on, so he doesn’t get too lost in the sauce.

He nips your earlobe. “I’m the best you’re gonna have.” When he withdraws, he takes all his warmth with him, leaving you cold and bereft. “Might be a tight fit, doll,” Ghost tells you as he unbuckles his jeans.

Ooh, doll. That’s a new one. You haven’t been called that before. You like it.

His fingers dip between your thighs, nudging at your clit until you’re gasping and writhing. When he works two, then three digits into your cunt, he stretches you out with brisk efficiency.

The slick sound of skin on skin - Ghost pulls his fingers from you to spread your arousal over his dick, pumping himself a few times.

“I can take you.”

One of his palms rests on your back as he carefully, so so, so carefully slips the blunt head of his cock inside. “Ohhhhh, oh fuck.” You go completely slack, cheek dropping to the mattress. He’s big. He’s fucking massive.

Ghost is hardly moving at all, and still, your pussy is trembling, desperately trying to clamp down on him, but you’re too stretched out-

He’s gasping, exhaling hard through his nose while he tries to re-adjust. The feeling of you squeezing him is unbearable.“God. My fuckin’ God. You’re-“ Ghost cuts himself off, and you hear him curse. He pulls himself out slightly, then pushes back in. “Loosen- loosen up a little. Please.” You can’t even make sense of his pleading, not when his dick is so big inside your belly that you don’t have room for thoughts.

When he plays with your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb, you feel the pleasure grow and churn and make you shake. “I- you’re so big, I can’t,” You barely succeed at getting out.

But- he rolls his hips again, and your body opens for him bit by bit. “Please. That’s it, that’s it, pretty girl. Doll. Good girl,” He chants.

And what can you do but let out an answering moan, a strung-out, needy, desperate sound for words your brain doesn’t know?

Your nails are seconds away from tearing the plastic mattress cover. God, if only- if only your cunt wasn’t stuffed so full. “Ghost… fuck, you’re splitting me in two.” He bottoms out, and he’s so deep, like he’s molding you around him. After a moment, Ghost starts fucking you in earnest.

“Holy shit, yes, right there-“ You gasp when his hard cock presses against your g-spot, your core shivering around him.

Ghost keeps at it with both hands on your hips to hold you steady. “I know. I know. I have you. I have you, love.” Your body trusts him to guide you through this - he’s sturdy and strong, and you feel every inch moving inside of you with his thrusts. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, Christ.” Sweat gathers at your hairline before tracking down your face to join the little pool of saliva below your slack, open mouth.

When he grinds into your hypersensitive, tender pussy, you shriek, his cock fucking the sounds out of your strained vocal cords. “Feels so good,” He groans in a shaken, undone voice.

Despite your fucked-out head, despite getting the best dick of your life, you find another ounce of spite you haven’t tapped into yet. “B-best you’ve ever, hngh, had?” You’re dripping around him, so soaked that the wet sounds of your cunt echo almost drown out your nonsensical, cock-drunk noises.

Ghost laughs before fucking you harder, determined to make you scream. “Yeah, best fuckin’ pussy. Best girl. Fuck. Fuck.” And just as he does that, you hear him lick his fingers before pressing them to your swollen clit.

Oh no. Oh no. Your pussy begins to tighten and twitch, and you didn’t plan for this, the pleasure sneaks up on you as you fight it, trying to keep your head above water and your body from… “I’m not gonna last, shit, you’re too good to me,” Ghost growls, relentlessly pounding into you.

Your stomach aches and screams with your orgasm, but you’re not ready yet, you need a second. You- he’s manipulating your body so keenly, you’ve never felt anything like it.

His hips snap into your ass, aiming viciously for your g-spot. “You’ll come again. Like this,” Ghost orders, then presses down on your back, so you drop your chest and cant your hips up.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can,” You confess, each sound chopped up and breathless as he fucks you harder and harder.

He keeps his fingers on your clit at the same pressure, same speed, and it feels so good that you’re going to start sobbing at any second. Your knees are about to give out, and Ghost’s thrusts get wilder, messier.

“Come. Come for me.”

You’re screeching, crying, wailing as you come. Cunt spasming on his dick, your lungs empty and howling for relief. Your hips keep pushing back towards him to chase the high. Each wave is more painful, more powerful than the next, leaving you a twitching, helpless mess.

You come so fucking hard around him that you think you were meant for this. It’s the sweetest relief, like hot fire licking through your veins. It’s all Ghost and the cock he’s breaking you open on. Your pleasure slices into your gut like a sharpened knife, and your slick covers his pants, your thighs, the bed below you.

He shoves himself into you one last, impossibly deep, painfully good time, and Ghost comes with a long, drawn-out moan as your muscles milk him. There’s a burst of warmth - except your spasming, still-orgasming pussy is packed to the brim with his cock, so you feel his come drip all over your trembling, weak legs.

When he pulls out, he slides an arm around your waist before gently lowering you to the bed. Then Ghost lays on his side so he can draw your bare, sweat-soaked back to his chest, tucking you into him. And while you’re insensible, he grabs the balaclava and shoves it over his face.

You come back to yourself in increments, your head hazy and filled with small snapshots of tenderness.

Ghost adjusts the open buckle of his belt, so it doesn’t hurt you or irritate your sensitive skin. Your hand seeks one of his blindly until he wraps his fingers around yours. He stops your shivering by unzipping his hoodie and draping it over your naked body.

Your heart rate slows to something more reasonable, and as your eyes open, you see his tattoos. He’s got your head cushioned on his shoulder, so your hair has draped itself all over his arm.

You can see monochrome shadows dancing on his muscled, scarred skin, skulls, bombs, and dog tags, all of it peeking out.

Beautiful. Edgy, scary, beautiful. “I like them,” You say as you outline a lovingly-detailed sniper’s scope with the tip of your finger.

He doesn’t laugh, he’s recovering too, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Not too shabby, eh?”

Barbed wire in that faded, blue-black color that tattoos turn with age, greyscale fire, and brimstone… “They suit you. And so does the mask.” Ghost exhales softly, air fanning out across your skin.

Then he shifts, tightens his arm around you, and brings you closer. “Thanks,” He murmurs after a long, substantial moment.

You try to banish the exhaustion creeping on you to the recesses of your mind. It makes your tongue slippery, makes the thoughts fall straight out of your head and into the world. “Yeah, no problem. Did you know that your eyelashes are blonde? I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw you.”

There are many other things you want to say, but you chew on the inside of your cheek and manage to stop them.

“Have you now?”

Aw, damn. So you did say that out loud, and he heard you. “Yeah. Yeah.” Each time you blink, you do it slower, like gravity is somehow increasing as time goes on, and you’re losing the power to resist it.

Where’d he go? “Gotta fuckin’… put some sheets on this bed. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, love.” You poke your head up for a second and look around. No Ghost behind you, no arms cradling you.

Then you spot him by the door, shoving his keycard in his pocket. “Mmph.” You don’t lie down until he circles around and curls his palm around your cheek.

“I’ll be right back,” Ghost promises, and with his blessing, you roll over and close your eyes.

Tagging @abbiesxox @thedevillovesflowers @poohkie90 @averyyreads @lialacleaf @backupgal @kitty-satan1 @androgynoushellscape @555ilovecats @pinkwigonmytv @almightywdm @discowizard88 @castielsangelsx @jaymicrosoft @rengokulover96 @copiasratscheese @fluffysmiko @d3athtr4psworld @drugsaftersex @teenagegever2k22 @badame0224 @toilet-paper-headbands @itsrosebabe @bangirl134 @silverianni @nezukos-number1fan @deadpoetsandhoney

Idk how tag lists work so i guess just reply if u want to be added? and reply/shoot me a message if you want off!

Thank y'all so much for the support and love <3 <3 <3, the next chapter will be more smut, as well as the 141's reaction to your wedding!

One last thing - please do not ask a disabled author/person in general to disclose intimate details of their disability because you think their disability should limit them from doing something. that is very rude, and also very ableist. the only person entitled to my medical history is my doctor, and I've already had someone act entitled toward my medical history over this fic. i am super uncomfortable that i had to disclose anything at all, but i felt that if i didn't, they would pick a fight. my pinned post contains the comment i made on AO3 about this, including said details that I wish I didn't feel forced to tell people. I am not going to be responding to questions of that kind going forward. thank you.

(as always, dedicated to cuckoo <3)

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yuesgirlfriend · 8 months

Text

of birds and honey

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

part 1/part 2/part 3

warnings: canon typical violence, masturbation (afab)

A week passes without much happening.

Excitement over new knights has died down, and the people go back to their regular routine. Wool is spun, gardens are weeded, new straw with sweet smelling sprigs of rosemary is spread over the floor. Peasants in distant fields begin planting and tilling as spring slowly settles into the dreary air.

She feigns reading when her father discusses defenses with the Knight Commander Price, hears gossip of French ships breaching southern shores by the kitchens, and overhears one of the knights (Garrick, she heard his name was) express worry about leaked battle plans and French spies.

She does not see the man called Ghost again, until one afternoon she is practicing embroidery while balanced on a windowsill overlooking the courtyard.

Shouts sound out from down below- when she glances down, a small crowd has gathered around two figures circling eachother.

She rushes to the scene when sounds of steel striking steel begin to ring out. Down the stairs, past the hall, through the kitchens, and there he is- Ghost- swinging a blade towards another knight.

A duel, a duel! Sir Graves and the Ghost!

Says one of the stable boys as the other man- Graves- dodges another strike. She pushes her way to the front of the crowd, needing to see every line of Ghost’s armored body as he grunts and dodges. He moves like he is dancing, brutal and calculated.

Duels are vicious, bloody ordeals- very few have ever happened under her fathers watch, the clergy under his thumb finding the merciless bloodshed godless. But now her father watches from his balcony as Ghost parries Graves thrust and, with one fluid motion, takes his head.

Something wet and warm splatters across her face. She doesn’t flinch.

While Ghost holds the mans head by the helmet and roars warnings of what happens to traitors to the rest of the watching, silent knights and crowd of stunned servants, she stares at the red hot blood splattered across her shoes and silken surcoat and tries to put a name to the feeling coiling in her stomach.

The sky is streaked with red as the run sets into the horizon, as if God saw the blood in the courtyard and took inspiration. Every sound and color seems muted, unable to break through the buzzing in her ears. She spends the rest of the evening picking flecks of blood off her face, feigning a headache and skipping dinner.

Her hands don’t stop shaking, and she’s filled with the need to run, to move. Once the sun sets, she slinks out of her room. Favoring the shadows and moving only when sentries are turned away, she makes her way to the highest peak of outer wall. The stars peek over the horizon, the moon hanging above them like a pearl.

A shiver runs through her when her eyes land on the hulking form standing over the parapet. She moves on soundless, slippered feet towards him.

“Lady.” He says as if in greeting. How he heard her, she’ll never know.

“It must be true, what the cook says.” She steps up beside him, overlooking the dark his surrounding the castle, the plains muddled together under the blanket of night.

“And what is that?” His voice is gruff, his hood up over his masked face.

“That you have got eyes in the back of your head.”

That’s the abridged version of what the cook had said; she had overheard the old man telling the maids of rumors he had heard- that the Ghost was the spawn of the devil, a witches son, a biblically deformed creature hiding 9 eyes and countless heads beneath the mask.

Something vindictive and admittedly childish had rose up in her and led to her placing several handfuls of nettles in the cooks bed.

She refused to feel guilty, even when she spotted the irritated welts on the mans skin the next day- was it not the prophet Amos who said to let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-failing stream?

He lets out a huff. Something tells her this is as close to a laugh as he will give her. For a long moment, there is only silence broken by the occasional scurry of a rat, as they stand watching the night where it’s unfolded before them.

“There’s a storm on it’s way, lady.” His gloved fingers tighten where they grip the stone. She wishes he would turn, so she could see his eyes. “It’d be wise if your father sent you somewhere far.”

“I’m stronger than I seem- have faith, I can weather any storm, sir. And the stronghold is well defended.”

“‘S not the stronghold I worry about. It’s the people.” Finally, he turns to face her- in the moonlight, his eyes look like moons themselves, haloed by a dark night of greasepaint.

“Be careful who you trust, lady.” In one fluid motion, he takes off his cloak and wraps it around her shoulders before bodily turning her away. “Get back inside. You’re father would have my head if I let ya freeze.”

She follows his orders without question. Maybe he really is a witches son, she thinks as she slinks back into her quarters.

The fire is nothing more than a collection of dim coals, now. Wrapping the Ghost’s cloak tighter around herself, she tosses another log onto the fire and crawls into her bed.

The feeling from earlier that day is back- the tensing, the coiling in her stomach, the heat in her abdomen as if someone is churning her chest over hot coals. Usually venturing out at night cures her of this incessent, shaky need to move, but this time, it had only exacerbated it.

Squirming around, she buries her nose in his cloak. Ghost’s cloak. It smells of lye soap, wood ash, cold night air.

Some kind of hot and heavy pressure hangs in her stomach- her thighs rub together, twisted around her sheet, and that seems to help for a moment, but then it gets worse.

Without thinking, she sends a trembling hand down between her legs- to her womanhood, as her old governess would have said- and adds more pressure. And, oh- that is new.

She hesitantly moves this wetness around, up and down, until her back arches off the mattress, until she masters this new feeling and she has to bury her moans in the rough frabric of Ghost’s cloak.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw ghost #cod mwii x reader #simon riley x reader angst #part 2 coming soon #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley headcanons

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vcnillazelda · 1 year

Note

hello! i'm pretty sure your requests are open but i'm not sure if your write for all the cod characters if possible could you write for a reader who does beauty pageants/is a beauty queen and is really famous because of it. Thank you!!!!!

ghost team/141 with a beauty queen s/o

tags: established relationships, reunions, fluff, jealousy, talks of death/kidnapping, no actual death or gore, general chaos

characters: simon, johnny, gaz, price, alejandro, rudy, farah

a/n: this wasn’t exactly specific so i’m assuming it’s their s/o, i’m sorry if that’s wrong 😭

✞———————❖———————✞

ghost

he never actually talks about you

if word got out at all he knows he’d be putting you in danger

so everyone in his squadron is surprised when they touch down and a beautiful woman is standing there

they’re immediately gossiping, accusing each other of holding back on a relationship status- no attention lands on simon

johnny genuinely thinks you’re gaz’s girlfriend due to how young and vibrant you look (which mildly offends simon- is he saying he looks old 😭)

gaz on the other hand thinks you could be dating alex or rudy- who immediately gets flustered whereas alex laughs and said he wishes

this annoys simon, so he walks away from them, towards you. no one seemed to notice- but when you call simon’s name excitedly and fling your arms around him they’re all stunned

johnny SPRINTS over, wanting to meet you and tease his friend- simon punches him in the arm

“you’re beautiful by the way, i’m johnny. so how long have you been seeing this grumpy ass- ow!”

simon rolls his eyes, whereas you shook johnny’s hand and met all his colleagues

of course, they all complimented you, giving you wide smiles and sweet words

simon feels a spark of jealousy, protectiveness- he wants to pull you away but that would be extremely out of character

you notice simon’s discomfort and hold onto his arm, deciding on telling them the basics such as your name, occupation, how long you’d been seeing simon and the fact you were his fiance

johnny and gaz go wild- literally trying to get more information- yet price pulls them back

“sorry about them. have a nice evening, ma’am. you too, si’.” he smiles, and simon finally gets to leave

pampers you over you pampering him- he loves taking care of you

washing your hair, cooking for you, all that domestic stuff drives him wild <3

will only allow you to give him a massage when he’s half asleep, lord knows he needs one- but he will allow you to wash the fading face paint from around his eyes and press kisses along his lips and face

he’s very happy to be back with you, hugging you tightly and swaying with you

if you came home with another trophy from a pageant he’ll congratulate you then say sorry for missing it- so many kisses, he’s so proud!!

johnny

OH MY GOD THIS BOY LOVES YOU SO MUCH

will NOT stop talking about you

shows many pictures of you to the team- they think he’s lying 😭

simon teases him about having a ‘fake girlfriend’

gets so defensive of you, if someone even tries to say your images are ‘photoshopped’ he goes off on one saying how they haven’t met you and how you’re really pretty!

as soon as he can, he gets you to meet his friends :)

he hates feeling like he’s leaving you out of things when he goes out with colleagues, so he finally brought you along when your schedule was clear and literally everyone nearly fainted from shock

“so johnny wasn’t lying, huh?” “seems that way.”

he’s so prideful- HE pulled YOU, he’s so proud and loves you so much

keeps an arm around your waist, leans into you, kisses your cheek- loves pda

he makes sure to watch EVERY single one of your pageants- he gets upset at other models trying to one up you

the others just thought he was really into it because he has 3 older sisters, but they didn’t actually know it was you in them so they were really mean about it 😭

LOVES helping you pick out costumes or outfits, LOVES IT

will beg to do your makeup- he was used as a model for his sister’s stuff when he was younger so he knows the basics about makeup

it’s a little sloppy tho, he doesn’t practice so you’ll look a little… off

if you had to join some sort of reality tv style beauty show, he will kick EVERYONE out of the rec room to watch every episode and records every episode he misses on his phone 🫶

he loves you so much and is so supportive

gaz

he’s only open about it if people ask him if he’s dating anyone

so of course, johnny being johnny, asks one day

“hey are you seeing anyone?” / “oh yeah, my girlfriend back homes waiting on me.”/ “WHY DIDNT YOU TELL US????” / “no one asked..?”

when he shows everyone a picture of you, they’re all so shocked

“y/n l/n??? are you sure?!” “nice try kid, she’s a literal celebrity” type attitudes all around

he silently plots to prove them all wrong

texts you asking to meet him when his mission is over ‘because he misses you’ when in reality he wants to rub it in his friends’ faces- he’s so mischievous

as soon as johnny sees you he trips and falls out the jeep- he thought he saw a ghost or smth

“baby!” you grin, engulfing your boyfriend in a hug. he twirls you around as you kiss his cheeks saying that you missed him

“i missed you too. come meet my friends.” he’s so sweet

smug little smile as you talk to everyone, holding your hand, eyeing each of their surprised faces with pride

his plan worked perfectly and he was in such a good mood

anyway- as a general lover, gaz is so sweet

he’s got some spare cash- so he likes to spoil you

literally loves buying you dresses or makeup palettes and accessories, even if you can buy it yourself

adores your pageants- doesn’t understand them, but watches them anyway just to see you smile

if you get all ‘oh don’t look at me, i haven’t got ready yet’ type of person, he puts a whole ass rule on the house saying you’re not allowed to dress up fancy- he wants to see you however you look because he loves you no matter what <3

price

is very secretive. more than simon. doesn’t want you getting tracked down, linked to him or worse

comes home silently in the dead of night and kisses your face gently

you wake up when he gets in bed, rolling over and hugging him tightly.

“you should of told me you got home” / “no, no. it’s okay. i don’t want anyone affiliated with me seeing you… you’re too precious.”

so protective, when someone recognises you in public he’s got a hand on your lower back- if anyone asks about him you literally just flat out say he’s your husband (because he is), as much as he doesn’t like it

he understands you may want to be public about your relationship, but he doesn’t want the wrong people seeing it and coming after you- it’s his worse nightmare

he’s literally had nightmares of you dying, is so paranoid sometimes that he forgets to relax and spend time with you

as badly as he wants to keep it under wraps… he loves you too much. if you wanna go to dinner, he takes you. wanna go shopping? sure, where do you wanna go?

loves pampering you, like the others, but his pampering is much more personal or gentlemanly (not that the others aren’t) he loves showering with you, zipping up the back of your dress, holding the door for you, etc

literally the definition of gentleman, he loves doing things for you

calls you beautiful and gorgeous every time he sees you

can’t always watch your pageants because he’s such a busy man, but he does his best- he definitely forgets everyone’s names and does not understand anything

alejandro

you were a big face in las almas, but no one in his life other than you, his and your families and rudy knew about him being your husband

johnny saw your face on a billboard modelling something and immediately was like “she’s so pretty omg??”

alejandro grew very jealous, but understood people would react that way to you a lot considering you’re a beauty queen

like price, he keeps everything under tight secret- he’s dealing with a literal cartel, he can’t say a peep about you in any presence in case the wrong person hears it- your life is literally on the line

when he’s home with you, gives you gentle kisses and hushed words on how much he loves you

as much as he wants a normal life, he can’t take you out to places, el sin nombre has eyes and ears everywhere and if the cartel were to see you it would mark you as a target immediately- however, he does want to take care of you and give you a semi-normal life

he goes out, buys takeout for you, little gifts, ect

loves how your eyes light up when you see him, it’s what he lives for

doesn’t get to watch any pageants you’re in, but loves hearing you talk about them and you’re experiences

hugs you tightly at night, he’s so protective and silently scared- he doesn’t want you to get hurt. his worse nightmare is waking up and you’re dead or missing

such a clingy lover, he’s so romantic too. he wants you to know he genuinely loves you

brings rudy around sometimes, it’s always lovely because you and rudy are like best friends (i.e sneaking off to plot a prank whilst alejandro is terrified thinking something happened to you)

he adores making homemade food for you, it’s one of his passions, not to mention his food is amazing and it’s the least he can do for you

gets so involved in any gossip you have, literally sits on the couch with you gossiping and expressing his feelings on the situation/drama

will repeat the gossip to rudy on missions because he’s awful with drama, loves talking about it (in mexican spanish so the others don’t really understand it)

rudy

same as alejandro, he’s petrified something could happen to you

unlike alejandro, he loves going out to places with you

he’s a pushover too, if you wanted to go on a day out for your anniversary, he’s all there

keeps his pistol on him because he doesn’t want any trouble and wants to protect you

calls you his mariposa (butterfly) because he thinks butterflies are beautiful like you :,) <3

avid cuddler, yet he’s the one on your chest, head resting on you as you talk about all the drama going on with other models/beauty queens

adores you, stares at you with lovesick eyes because you’re just so pretty!!

doesn’t have a lot of money, but saves up a lot to buy you nice things :)

he’s reluctant, but after johnny nagging him he introduces you to the team- much to alejandro’s disapproval because he’s like your older brother and wants to protect both you and rudy

rudy will one hundred percent spend some time in and out of missions looking at pictures of you, you fuel him and give him a reason to fight to survive when he’s away

one hundred percent has a locket with your picture in it- the picture is of the two of you on your first anniversary with rudy smiling brightly and you kissing his cheek- but he isn’t stupid and leaves it at base just in case anything happened to him

watches your pageants on his phone, absorbs every drop of information so he can talk about it with you either on the phone or when he gets home

he’s such a dedicated lover too, spend so much time with you because you’re his favourite person :)

farah

gushes about you around base

like literally brags

“yeah that’s cool alex, but have you seen my girlfriend?” / “yes. as a matter of fact we all have”

rerun nights? rerun nights

will rewatch everything you’ve been in with you, face masks, junk food- she wants you to be a normal person outside of your ‘beauty queen standards’ that the company you’re under force onto you

never expects you to uphold those standards around her, she loves you and wants to let you be yourself <3

adores how you look no matter what- her gallery is full of candid shots of you and selfies of the two of you

nights out!!!! loves going out with you, especially if alex comes along because you guys are a triple threat

if you’re not from urzikstan like her, she wants to introduce you to her culture and wants you to do the same, loves cooking traditional meals for you and wants to know everything about your country

her wallet has pictures of you two in a photo booth, it’s her favourite things to show everyone around her

she CRAVES that domestic life with you, but also craves the chaos that comes with your fame

wanna chase paparazzi?? she’s leading the charge and will bark at people- she’s going the full mile

the public love her, they literally adore you two

interacts with your fans a lot too :) she loves watching them go wild when you post a pic of the two of you on a date night

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