#anyways they are gonna make a simon one too right………RIGHT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shotmrmiller · 2 months

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johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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lvrxly · 6 months

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ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚɞ˚‧｡⋆

a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

2K notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 6 months

Note

I REALLY wanna see Johnny get mad! Like white hot angry at reader. Don’t know what/how it happened but Johnny’s gonna make all of reader’s poor holes suffer🥺

Maybe Simon gets surprised and turned on by his pup’s newfound aggressiveness

3.6k pwp soap drabble 4 u (cw for referenced burning building, angry sex, some light mutual degradation/objectification, and voyeurism since ghost watches)

You fume silently, face hot with rage while you and Soap walk side by side behind Ghost down the base hallways. There's a tension at the base of your neck that you just know is going to become a migraine if you don't get some medicine soon, and your bones ache from going too long without sleep.

Soap's somehow even stiffer beside you, the distance between you two small but intentional. Usually he's impossible to pry off of you, always brushing against you and looking for more physical contact, but since you landed he's kept at least half a foot between you two at all times.

Fine by you. You don't want him touching you right now anyway.

The silence is thick as Ghost leads you two to his room, his shoulders loose and relaxed.

He's got no reason to be tense, you suppose. He's not the one who had a massive disagreement on the field, who had to drag his squadmate back from a blazing fire and deal with his bitching instead of his thanks.

Just the memory of it makes you scowl.

Ghost leads the two of you into his room in rare silence, though it's only rare because usually you and Johnny would already be teasing or flirting at this point. But you don't bother now, not with your anger so fresh in your mind.

Ghost is the only one to get settled once Johnny closes the door behind you. You two stand on opposite sides of the doorframe, both too tense to do much but stew in your own righteous anger, and Ghost starts to get dressed down into something more comfortable.

He lets the two of you stay quiet until he's fully changed into a tank top and sweats, no boxers then sits on the bed with an overly loud sigh.

"You two even gonna look at each other?"

Your lip curls as you glance at Johnny from the corner of your eyes. "I have nothing to say to him."

"'S not what I asked."

Your cheek twitches and you bite your tongue, rolling a sharp canine over it. "Honestly, Simon, I don't even want to see him right now."

Johnny scoffs, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and nearly stomps to your side, leaning in front of you to try and force eye contact. "Oh, really? Ye can't even look at me, huh? Had no problem lookin' earlier, when you were draggin' me away from my goddamn mission."

You want to growl, you want to rake your nails down his face and scream about what a fool he is, what a jackass, and you want to make him remember.

Some of your ire must shine through in your expression, and Johnny mirrors it, eyes sparking as he straightens and stands diagonally from you, chest nearly brushing your shoulder.

"Dragging you away from your death, more like," you sneer.

"Wasn't your place," he bites back, moving forward enough that you can feel the heat of him even through all your layers. "You aren't my fuckin' CO and I'm not yours - wasn't any of your business how I chose to execute my orders."

"It is when you chose to do it in the most lethal way possible! Fuck, MacTavish, had you taken half a second and listened to me-"

"Oh, that's all it woulda taken? Just had to shut my pretty lips and listen to you, jump before you even say how high? Newsflash, lass, you don't get to make those decisions."

"And you do?"

"In this case? Yeah, you're fuckin' right I do. Price said drag the man out, alive, and that's what I was doing."

"You ran into a burning building!"

"Under orders from our CO!"

"You know damn well that's not what he meant, Sergeant, cut the shit. The orders were to bring him back alive, not kill yourself in the process!"

"That's the job, Sergeant. You do whatever it takes to fulfill your orders."

You're both panting as he snarls the words, nose to nose and eye to eye, teeth bared in rage that feels almost primal. His close brush with death, the way you'd had to tackle him to keep him from running after the damn target, leaves you raw and unsteady. Had you been any weaker, any less filled by adrenaline and panic and something deeply possessive, you know Soap would've thrown you off and gotten himself killed. You were hardly able to hold him down until the screaming stopped as it was.

You take as deep a breath as you can with your heart racing, and reach up to wrap the collar of Johnny's shirt tight in your fist, dragging him so close that your noses brush, hot breaths shared.

"You don't get to fucking leave me." You shoot a glance over Johnny's shoulder, to where Ghost sits comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed. "Leave us. I won't let you."

It's the last sentence that has him bristling, that ruins your chance of a settled argument.

The only person who lets Soap do anything is Ghost. The two of you listen to your Lieutenant with no questions, no doubt, no hesitations, but the same doesn't go for your fellow Sergeant. Since the 141 had formed, you and Soap have been fighting for dominance over one another, both of you determined to establish your control of the other like Ghost has for both of you.

The insinuation that you would let Soap do anything isn't something he'll let slide.

Hours later, fucked raw and sated, you can admit to yourself that the wording was slightly intentional. But now, with the fresh wound of Soap's close call with death still stinging in your subconscious, you only mean it as a way to push his anger to the level yours has been at for hours now.

"Let me?" He rumbles, muscles relaxing as he steps forward enough to press his chest to yours, head ducked low so all you can see is Johnny. "You don't let me do shit, lass. Couldn't stop me if you tried."

You can't help the way your lips quirk up into a humorless smile, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Had a pretty easy time of it earlier, MacTavish. Had you pinned and writhing under me, like a bitch-"

Before you can finish your taunt, you find yourself pinned to the door, a mouth covering yours.

Johnny's teeth are sharp against your lips as he nips at you, leaving behind a sting and a throb. You dig your nails into his shoulders, raking them down his arms and rumbling in dissatisfaction when his clothes keep him from feeling anything.

You bite back as you push at the hem of his shirt, desperate to get your hands on him and make him hurt. You trace your fingers over his abs as you get his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him down to your height and smirking at his glare.

You don't kiss so much as fight with lips instead of fists, there's no affection or softness between the two of you right now. You're nothing but your anger, but your desperation, and deep down your fear. You cling to Johnny with something verging on desperation, bite and scratch to make him feel even a bit of the pain you had at such a close call with death.

He leans almost his entire weight into yours to keep you pinned against the door, but you only have to shove at his shoulders a few times for him to get the hint and move backwards.

His lips never leave yours as you walk him back to the bed, his hands coming up to grip your thighs as he falls back and keeps you on top of him. You taste the slightest tang of iron as you shift your knees up next to his hips, squeezing his sides between your thighs and his tongue between your teeth.

"You gonna ride me?" He pants when you pull away for a breath of air, your hips working over the tent in his pants. "Think you're in charge, bonnie?"

You bare your teeth at him, grinding your core against the tent in his pants. “I’m not the one on my back, MacTavish.”

His smile is all teeth as he bucks his hips into yours, knocking you off balance so you’re forced to brace your hands on either side of his head. “I don’t need to be on top to keep you on a leash.”

It’s all too easy to hook your fingers in his throat mic - his collar. His pupils blow wide when you tug harshly enough to pull his head off the mattress, his hips following as he moans and grinds you down onto him with a bruising grip on your thighs.

“Down,” you smirk, leaning your weight back and forcing his hips to the bed, grinding your hips. “‘S my turn, Johnny. Gonna use you ‘til you’re wrung dry.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, then rests on his bottom lip instead of settling behind his teeth. You can’t resist the urge to lean down and lick over his lips, covering them in your own spit and groaning when he pulls you back into a proper kiss.

Despite your hand around his throat and your weight on top of his, you’re both equally in control as you strip the other. You can’t be bothered to wrestle his wrists to the bed, far preferring to let him paw your shirt and pants off while you tear the seams in his indecently tight shirt.

You only have the patience to get his pants to his knees, unwilling to help him kick them off for full mobility. Instead you grind yourself against his hard length, the soaked gusset of your underwear dragging wonderfully over both his cock and your clit.

You shift your hand on his neck so your palm is resting on his Adam’s apple, giving him just enough pressure to stay flattened to the bed.

He nearly growls when you push, the head of his cock getting caught in your panties and brushing the crease of your thigh. “Fuck, bonnie, get it on with.”

You blink down at him, cocking an unimpressed brow and shifting your hips so he slips between your folds, tucking your underwear to the side with your free hand. “You’re not in charge right now, MacTavish. I’m on top.”

“Only cause I’m lettin’ ya,” he pants, hips twitching as he tries to find your hole, tries to find a hole to sink into.

You lean down just far enough to bite the air in front of his nose, all feral rage and sexual frustration as you let yourself sit on his cock, holding him still beneath you. “You don’t let me do shit, I do whatever the fuck I want to. And right now, I want to ride you ‘til you stop fucking talking.”

You press your lips to his before he can bite back the response you see waiting on his tongue, letting your hips move in the way that feels best for you as you lick over his teeth.

Johnny’s always loved making out. When Ghost keeps him locked up, or he’s just not allowed to fuck you, he’ll happily spend hours with your lips glued together, dry humping each other and swapping spit. You can’t even count the number of times he’s come in his pants while thrusting against your hip or your side, driven over the edge by just a kiss.

You take advantage of that now, keeping one hand on his throat and the other circling the base of his throbbing cock so you can line yourself up above him. He’s far too distracted with your lips and tongue to remember he could tug you down on him at any moment, could flip the two of you with hardly any effort at all.

Despite the complete lack of prep, your body takes Johnny easily, the familiar stretch making you moan as you sink down onto him with one smooth movement. You blink open wet eyes just in time to see Johnny’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when your ass rests against him, his cock buried inside of you.

You don’t let yourself rest for long, though most days you love to just feel the weight of either of your boys inside of you. But that current of anger is still pulsing beneath your skin, and all the hot, sweat slick contact between you and Johnny only makes you feel more desperate.

Your pace is merciless, for both him and yourself. Your knees and thighs scream as you slam yourself to the base of Johnny’s cock, making sure you pull off nearly to the tip on every thrust. Without a hand around his throat, you’d have lost your balance on the first thrust.

Johnny’s pulse thunders against your fingers, so fast and so harsh that you swear you can ever see your fingertips twitching against his throat. His breaths are quick and erratic, and you can’t help but subconsciously match his breathing with your faces as close together as they are.

“So fucking good,” you moan, rolling your hips as you lift yourself off of him, dragging the head of his cock along your walls. Your voice cracks when he bucks his hips up, and you’re relieved that he’s already too blissed out to notice, lost in the tight vice of your cunt.

“Yeah?” Johnny pants, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth when you pull away fully. “Stuff you just right, yeah, lass?”

You bite your tongue against an agreement, some deep part of you that’s not quite drunk on pleasure yet unwilling to give Johnny that kindness. Instead you shift your weight, so that your hand is more cupping Johnny’s jaw and putting pressure on his head instead of his neck, letting you really push him down and get the proper leverage to fuck yourself on his cock.

“Perfect fucking-” you shudder against the words, moan when he rubs just over your g-spot and repeating the same motion with your hips again and again. “Perfect fucking toy, so nice to ride.”

The sound Johnny makes is purely animalistic, torn between anger and desperation, something rough and low in his throat. You can feel the rumble of it through your hand and can’t help but moan in return, finally nearing your peak even as your legs continue to burn.

Neither of you speaks as you ride him, your head hanging low so you’re eye-level with his nipples and focused entirely on your own pleasure. The way your muscles scream at you only fills you with more need, more desperation, and the pain pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit grinds just right over the rough patch of Soap’s pubic hair, soaking it in your juices and covering him in slick.

You reach your peak with gasping breaths, nearly going cross-eyed as you use Johnny entirely for your own pleasure, using him as nothing more than something to hold yourself up on and a toy to ride. Your muscles go completely lax as your pleasure overwhelms you, leaving you slumped against his muscular chest as you ride out the orgasm with small rolls of your hips.

Johnny’s still rock hard inside of you as you come down, his grip on your thighs tight enough to bruise. Your hand has slipped from underneath his collar to the mattress next to his face, and you don’t have the energy to push yourself up and away, to deny him like you’d intended.

Your lungs feel too small as you try to take deep gasping breaths, only managing a few before your lungs start hitching. Johnny’s chest rises and falls quickly beneath your head, his heart pounding beneath your ear.

You don’t have time to brace yourself before you’re flipped onto your stomach, face down on the mattress.

One moment you’re floating in post-orgasmic bliss, letting your body clench down on Johnny and milk him, the next moment you’re on your knees with your back forced into a deep arch, that same cock pounding into you like a machine.

Your groan is bone deep when you finally lift your head enough to breathe, eyes rolled heavenward as your body tries its best to adjust to the harsh treatment.

“Show you a fucking toy,” Johnny snarls from over your shoulder, his voice sounding distant beneath the blood rushing through your ears. “Think ye can just treat me like fucking nothing, get yerself off then take a fucking nap? Nah, yer gonna take what ye fucking deserve.”

The thickening of Johnny’s accent has you gushing around him, your sensitive channel clenching down so hard that you’re surprised he can pull out at all.

Johnny’s hand wraps in your hair when you try to let your head fall forward again, yanking you back with enough strength to leave you yowling at the strain on your neck.

“Don’t fucking hide,” he hisses, landing a sharp slap on the meat of your ass. “Think ye can just shove yer head in the sand? Let me fuckin’ hear you, lass, sing f’r me.”

“Fu-uck you,” you manage to groan, syllables interrupted on every thrust, your voice cracking. “You’re not- fuck, Johnny, don’t have to listen to you.”

You can practically hear the way he gnashes his teeth over your shoulder, can perfectly envision the angry snarl on his face at your lack of submission.

“Ye will. Gonna teach ye a fuckin’ lesson about yer place.”

You try your best to rear up, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare as best you can despite the grip on your hair. “My place? Who the hell do you think- oh fuck, fuck, Johnny, you can’t- goddamnit-”

“Can’t even get a goddamn word out.” Even from your terrible angle you can see that his smile is mean. “Think ye can be in charge when ye can’t even finish a sentence? Fuckin’ fool.”

You nearly shriek when he shoves your head down to the mattress, clawing fruitlessly at anything in front of you. You only freeze when you feel flesh give way underneath your nails, the hard muscles of a thick thigh under your palm.

You can just barely angle your head enough to glance up and see Simon looking down at you, but you can’t manage to see anything past his general shape with the way Soap is trying to shove you inside the mattress.

Ghost’s hand comes to rest on your head, and when you lean into him he pushes Johnny’s fingers off.

“Watch it, pup,” he rumbles, and Johnny’s hips stutter behind you. “You’re already in trouble. Do you really wanna make it worse?”

Your self-righteous smirk is hidden in the sheets, but you can’t fully muffle your laugh when Johnny’s whines over your shoulder. The sound quickly morphs into a snarl, and he buries his teeth into your shoulder as his hips start to work again, the sound of his balls slapping against your soaked cunt obscene.

Johnny wraps his arms beneath your torso, hooking his hands on your shoulders so he can tug you into every thrust, moving his face up to nose at your throat. You feel covered by him, consumed by him, as he chases his own pleasure.

You don’t quite manage to get off before he empties himself inside you, but there’s a deep satisfaction in your bones that still lets you melt into him.

Johnny’s all heat and power at your back as he goes weak against you, and a small shove to his shoulder from Ghost has both of you resting on your sides, spooning with his cock still buried inside of you.

Your breaths sync with his quickly, matching the inhales and exhales you can feel against your neck and the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Your eyes flutter shut, relaxing into the bed and Johnny’s arms. You know that you’ll have to Talk later, about what he’d done and how you’d responded. But you know it’ll be an easier conversation after Ghost’s punishment, when all of your consciousness has eased a bit.

“There ya go,” you hear Ghost say, followed by a soft stroke over your head. “Exhausted yourselves, huh? Silly pups.”

You hum and Johnny rumbles behind you, burying his face more fully in your throat. You feel Ghost’s other hand pet over his mohawk, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“I guess you can nap.” Ghost sighs, like he’s doing you both a great favor. “You’ll both need all your energy for your punishment, anyway. Breakin’ damn near every rule in the book just cause you got a little worked up. What am I gonna do with the two of you?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, and the best Johnny manages is a small and plaintive whine. Ghost chuckles from above you, and you feel him lay in front of you, his arms wrapping around Johnny’s back and tugging you both to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just relax now, you’re alright.”

It’s easy to drift off, even if the heat is near suffocating and the stretch of Johnny’s cock verges on the edge of too much. You’re loose-limbed and sated, and Johnny’s safe beside you. There’s little else you could ever want, ever need, and you can’t be much more than grateful as you fall asleep between your men.

#ghoap x reader #nobody saw me complaining about this last night :)#bo writes #soap mactavish x reader #< since it's mostly him #btw i off and on contemplated making this reader male so if their vibes change throughout the fic thats why lmao #2 big military men fighting for dominance over one another while a Bigger & More Muscular partner watches knowing they're under his thumb..#yeah that's the stuff

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d0youc0py · 7 months

Note

Hiii can ypu write something with the 141 boys and their wife who starts a new job and her male coworkers are obcessed with her and dobt believe she is happily married. Please and thank you

“John?”

“Yes, Honey?”

“Something interesting happened at work.” You said slowly. He turned in his office chair, leaning back with a heavy sigh.

“That so?” He hummed. His large hand grabbed your waist resting you on his leg. You hummed back running your fingers up and down the front buttons of his shirt. He leaned into you.

“Remember that guy at work I told you about? Harrison? Anyways, I was walking past his desk and I noticed it was empty. I asked my boss about it and she said he quit in a panic this morning.”

John nodded his head in agreement. “That is interesting.” He gave you a soft smile, running a hand up and down your back.

“John?” You asked again slowly. “What did you do?”

“My job.” He whispered leaning forward planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“Meaning…..” You trailed off swallowing hard.

“Protect you.”

“Did you kill him?” You whispered back, your eyes darting around as if someone was eavesdropping. A chuckle escaped him causing you to jump.

“No, sweetheart. I did gently urge him to fuck off though.”

“Si, can you pick me up please?”

You could hear him already getting his things over the phone.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Remember that new guy I was training? Well he still hanging out in the parking lot and everyone has already left- it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Good Girl.” He praised. You could hear his truck starting. “I’ll be there in ten, just keep talking to me. How’s that book you’ve been reading?” His voice calmed you. You did as you were told, not bothering to question how he was going to make a thirty minute drive in ten minutes.

••••••••

He had made the drive in twelve minutes- the longest twelve minutes of your life.

“I’m outside, start heading down.” You breathed a sigh of relief opening the doors, the chilly night air hitting you.

“There’s my girl.” He quickly wrapped an arm around you giving you a peck on the top of the head. He opened the passenger side door of his truck, hoisting you up. He walked around to his side of the truck, leaning with his back against the door. His cold eyes staring directly into the grey car across the lot. It didn’t take long before the grey car tore out of the lot. Simon had a satisfied smirk on his face as he hopped into the truck. “I’m gonna start dropping and picking you up from now on, yeah? At least till that prick knocks it off.”

“Thanks, Si.”

“Mac! What’re you doing here?” Not that you weren’t excited to see him, he just wasn’t due home for another week.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your hairline.

“I missed you too.” You breathed, enjoying the way his cologne tickled your nose.

“I heard what you said on the phone, about our little problem.” His eyes scanned around your office building wondering who the group of bastards could be.

“Is that why you’re here? John you didn’t need to do that.” You assured, waving him off.

“Yes I do, Bon. This is your dream job and those bastards are already making you wanna quit- now point me in their direction and then we can go to lunch together, hmmm?”

“Please don’t make a scene Mac.” You whined tugging at his shirt. “How about I give you a tour and we just so happen to bump into them?”

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to give each one of them a black eye for how miserable they’ve been making you. But you and those damn puppy eyes outweigh his desire for blood.

“Alright. I might ‘accidentally’ trip one of them though.”

“How’s my pretty girl doin?” You could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

“Best I’ve been in a week.” You smiled back. “I have a feeling I owe it to you.” You chirped, running your nails across the dinning room table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”

“Yeah, sure. Well let me fill you in since you ‘don’t know.’ This morning I walked into work and you know those guys I was telling you about? The ones who take turns practically cornering me at my desk to ask if me and my husband are really ‘that serious’ and if I would like to go out with them for a ‘bitchin’ time’.”

“I do remember those guys, yeah.” Kyle mused from the other line. He wished he was there to see the air quotes he knew you were doing.

“Well this morning I walked in and they wouldn’t even look at me!” You cheered. “Ky, I don’t know what you did, but I owe you massively.”

“Don’t owe me a thing, pretty. Just happy you’re not scared anymore.”

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marvellous1917 · 9 months

Text

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

Tagged :

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @1-800-bxrnes @fandomsfallnomore @bushtail @ghostofwinter @missdarlingsb @amiets2 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #ace chats #tattoo artist!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader

1K notes · View notes

tacticaldiary · 9 months

Note

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

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spookypete-94 · 6 months

Text

House Shopping with Simon Riley

Little drabble right before shift starts at work. Literally what the title says, but with public (not sure if you can call it that) but... having in a relations in a place you shouldn't?? SimonRileyxFemale!reader

Language, p in v, quickie

but just know NSFW NSFW NSFW!!!

Somehow, you had domesticated Simon "Ghost" Riley. It was baffling to everyone, including The Ghost himself. Not to you, however. Loving him was easy in your eyes. Someone so patient as you finding no chore in the task.

And that's why Simon literally bent over backward for you. Never at your request, though. You needed something? He was there with it shortly after you said it would help. Even when you wouldn't say anything. He noticed the tires on your car getting bald, paying for a new set, and replacing the worn ones.

It was the least he could do for you. So when it came to the next step, moving from a small flat to an actual house, he didn't hesitate. It had to be a place to make into a home. Strong, sound four walls to make sure you were in a safe place while he was away. With a nice view preferably with no close neighbors to be watching you while he couldn't shield you. A place with a kitchen for meals, and a big one at that. The bedroom needed to be large and spacious for your bed. Maybe even a few other rooms to fill later down the road with little bodies split of the image of you both. Only the best for his, Love.

Finally, a realtor had found a house with all the list of his demands. Taking the day, he told you to dress nice, business casual. You had dressed in a white crisp cotton collard shirt with a tight pencil skirt, and him in a white shirt matching with a black tie and slacks.

"Where are we going?"

"Lawyer."

"A lawyer?!" You asked, shocked, looking at him stunned while he backed up the vehicle, his arm draped over onto your seat.

"Lawyer." He confirmed.

"What for?"

"You'll see when we get there, calm down."

Fiddling with the hem of your skirt the entire time of the drive, you continued with the same nervous habit in the lawyer's office. Only now, you were bouncing your knee as well. Simon's hand reaching over and squeezing your thigh, his way of telling you silently to calm down.

The lawyer had sat down at his desk with a stack of paperwork next to him. It was about the third or fourth page in the stack that you understood that this had to do with a large sum of money. You just didn't understand what for. Your suspicion signified from a raised eyebrow to Simon, but all he wore was a knowing smirk.

"Just need you both to sign these pages," the lawyer you didn't even know his proper name said.

"What am I signing?" You asked

"Just trust me," Simon said, leaning forward pen in hand and sliding the paper over to you.

You sighed, frustrated, but his words enough to quell your worry and anxiety.

You tried to glance over the paperwork, still looking for any hints of what you were signing your life away too, but the jarble of the language too much to just get by skimming.

"Did you find one then?" The lawyer asked.

"Still have to look at it, but believe so." Simon answered.

Conveniently, all was said as you were signing the last page, leaving you unable to ask any questions. Simon stood up, hand out to you to grab. Feeling annoyed and left out, you did it anyway.

"Good luck," Mr. Unknown lawyer waved to you both as you left.

"Simon," your eyes burning into the side of his head.

"It's a surprise..." he said while laughing, watching you roll your eyes and groaning at the same time ,"I'm gonna show you."

"Show me?"

"Sit back," he said, giving you a side eye, tired of your questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shock you felt was unexplainable when he pulled into a driveway of a home with a FOR SALE sign in the front yard.

"Si-mon," dragging his name out for effect.

"I want us to buy a home together." Blurting it like it had been killing him to hide from you.

"You're serious?"

"As a heart attack. Taking money out of a firm that I've had stored away for a while. This is the house closest that fits what I want to give you."

"SI-mon." The excitement you felt when he told he what he had been planning.

"Come on, realtor is waiting," he said, finally opening his car door. Quickly, you joined him, your heels clacking on the cement driveway with joy.

Just as Simon had said, there in the doorway stood a woman who was there to show the house. Holding a clipboard in a green pantsuit and large black rimmed glasses looking all prim and proper with a large smile. Ready to sell this house.

To say the house was stunning was an understatement. Vaulted ceilings, large kitchen with an island in the middle, pantry just off of it. Multiple bathrooms on both floors of the house. Natural light from the windows for days. Your attention was now looking over the bedrooms. Checking out a smaller closet that was between the master bedroom and guest room. The realtor you had learned her name as Peggy, walking around a room in the opposite direction.

What shocked you was Simon pushing you into this small linen closet and shutting the door behind him.

"Simon!" you said his name for the upteenth time today.

"Shhhhhh," he said grinning deviously as he stood before you.

The hot air from his shushing made your skin prickle, but him removing his black tye in a swift motion made your blood run cold. He made a swift loop after lifting your wrists above your head, wrapping it up around a wooden rod to hold hangers just above your head. Then, he pulled it tight as gently as your torso stretched perking your chest to him.

"So hard, not to touch you like this. " his mouth against your cheek and then into your ear. "Skirt looks so nice on you." Gasping, feeling his teeth nip into the pillar on your neck.

"Need ta' test the bones of this house, make sure it's good enough." Coy with a shit eating smile.

His fingers slipping up your skirt, pushing it up at the same time. There he rubbed against your core, making you moan.

"Shhhh," he said while chuckling. "Can't have Peggy hearing us. Worked so hard to find this house, can't ruin her work now." Teasing into your ear while he rubbed circles into your clit. Instead of taking the risk of getting caught, you leaned your head into his chest, masking your sounds there.

Pushing your panties to the side, his fingers rub your bare pussy. What he was doing was testing the waters, checking to see if you were wet enough to take him. Little did he know, your gates of arousal started to flood seeing him slip his tye off so quickly, revealing the collarbone you love to sink your teeth into.

"Dirty girl," he cooed into your ear while plunging a finger in. The stretch felt good but was pulled from you quickly. Your eyes narrowed at him in disappointment, but quickly changed to euphoria as his cock entered you abruptly.

You bit your lip trying to contain your moans, the whole situation hot to you. His large hands gripped your waist and set you on a narrow shelf, you assumed it was for shoes, but it was perfect for this. It allowed him to enter you faster and deeper. The position brought you closer to the brink, his pace perfect.

Your body was starting to catch fire, slipping your legs around him to pull him closer, sending you over the edge. Trying to roll your head back but unable to find anything to rest it on, let Simon see your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loved the feeling of being unable to move at his mercy and will. Thankfully, he was always into pleasing your needs quickly.

His chest lightly thundering with a chuckle watching you come undone.

His rhythm becomes harder, desperate for his own release. Slamming into you faster, you could feel his hot seed fill you making you whimper as your pussy clamped around him greedily taking it all.

"Good girl," he grunted, slowing down. Both of your shallow breaths filled the small space. Simon leaned down and kissed you as he pulled out. Quickly, you pushed your thighs together while he untied you from the rod. Once free, you pushed your panties back over to catch his cum before it dripped down your thighs and onto your black skirt.

"Like that?" He asked, still wearing his devil grin. Clearly, he was proud of the act.

"Very much so," you said helping him tie his tye.

"Hello??" Peggy said, while looking for you both.

It made you cringe a smile, and laugh amongst each other.

Simon tried to deflect the dirty deed you had just done together. Pushing the door open quietly, stating, "This is a perfect place to use, keep my tyes in." A statement that was a double-edge sword. It is a statement that not only you and Simon understood, but clearly, so did Peggy. Her jaw was slack mouth agape, making you both divert your eyes from her.

"It's perfect. We'll take it." Simon's tone almost boastful as he thought about the other places he would rail you in...or on.

Simon Riley Masterlist

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Imagine It | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i have an itch i need to scratch and that is simon being happy. thanks

warnings: mentions of babies, mentions of simon’s kids winnie and mellie, mentions of simon’s past a little

summary: It was just a nice afternoon, your husband’s brothers in arms trying to name your imaginary baby for you.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT

“Rhia?”

“Write it down.” You answered, wiping baby food off of your finger onto a paper towel. Mellie giggled in her high chair, watching you as you brought Simon the little glass jar of mashed bananas.

Soap scribbled the name down on the piece of paper, sitting next to Winnie at the dinner table. The little girl was drawing on Gaz’s arm with a Sharpie, you just didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

“I like Ava.” Gaz piped up, looking up from his crossword puzzle. Soap looked to his friend then to you, you shook your head.

“Had an Ava in middle school who stole my hair tie and cut it into pieces, and kept doing it until junior year of high school.” You moved back to the fridge, opening it and looking into it. “We don’t have that much food, boys.”

“Ye kept a grudge this long?”

You looked over the fridge door at Soap, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sort of. My brother handled it by getting her expelled.” You closed the fridge, walking back towards your dinner table and pulling a chair from it. You settled yourself beside Simon as he fed Mellie her mushed bananas, her little head trying to get a peak at Price at the head of the table. But, of course, he was completely disguised by the newspaper he held up, just like a grandfather. “More suggestions?”

Soap looked down at the list of names he had printed and brought, shoving the paper past Winnie and to Gaz, the man put down his pencil and took the packet in his hand while giving the Scot a side-eye.

“Just going to roll them off.”

You looked to Simon, the unmasked man glanced at you with a nervous glare. You looked to your left and spoke gently, “Make sure they’re not stupid ones. We’ll say yes or no.”

“Lila.”

“No.”

“Penelope.”

“No.”

“We’re talkin’ to yer wife, buddy.” Soap commented, Ghost had rejected the names while you just smiled at your husband. His eyes were still on his daughter, the little baby’s gaze now on her father.

“We’re not even having a baby anytime soon.” The Lieutenant commented, you nodded.

Soap shrugged, Gaz scoffed. “We get to name the next one - this is a meeting, for your information.” The Brit looked down at Winnie, she was still focused on whatever she was drawing on his arm.

“Oh, so you lot get to name my baby?” You laughed a little. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, Mellie’s my godbaby!” Soap whined. “Gaz’s gotta have one too!”

“He’s right, I’ve got to have a godchild too.” Gaz declared, Winnie switched markers from black to blue, beginning to color in some of her drawings. “This one’s Price’s.”

“I’m not popping out kids for each of you to have if we both die.” Your voice was loud and declarative, Soap and Gaz shut their mouths. “What if these are the only two we have? You gonna go to court and get joint custody?”

“Leave the lady alone, muppets.” Price’s voice echoed through the kitchen, he flipped the page in his newspaper.

Soap turned to Gaz, a mischievous smile on his face. “We shuid git married sae we have joint custody.”

You burst out laughing, hand flying to your mouth as Gaz squawked like a bird. Simon glanced at you before staring at Soap, who was cackling and saying , “Wh-What?! ’m right!”

“They’ll be adults before I die anyway.” Your husband commented, before turning back to Mellie - her little hand was reaching for the spoonful of banana he had in his hand. He moved the spoon towards her hand, her fingers curled around the plastic as her father commented, “Last time I checked, my girls’ godfather is Price.”

“They’ll all raise ‘em together anyway,” You then looked back to Gaz and Soap. “Won’t you, boys?”

“Yes ma’am.” Both soldiers nodded, now looking away and interested in Winnie’s art.

Soap began to chuckle as he grabbed her black marker. “Ye'r gonnae hae her art oan yer arm forever, buddy.” He held up the Sharpie in Gaz’s face, whose face paled. He looked down at the marker she was coloring her drawings on his arm in, seeing that it was washable before staring at you.

“You gave her the marker!”

You shrugged, nudging your foot on Simon’s calf. He glanced at you before he took the spoon away from your baby, she made a noise of annoyance and tried to reach for it again. The eight month old let out a whine, tears bubbling up in her eyes but he was quick to hand her the spoonful of banana again. Mellie giggled, taking the spoon from his hand as he said, “Thank you.”

“You gotta name for ‘em, Price?” Soap asked, yanking his list of names from Gaz and grabbing the Sharpie.

Price hummed from behind his newspaper. “Yeah, my mum’s name. Used to be a volunteer at the women’s shelter, used to help troubled kids.” He flipped the page. “Her name was Lyra.”

Your eyes shot to Simon, who looked like a fish out of water for just a moment. His eyes narrowed just a little as he went to wipe away some food from Mellie’s cheek with a wipe. The baby babbled a little, trying to grab his hand and chew on it.

You saw Price’s eyes over the newspaper, the little crinkle of eyebrows told you all you needed.

Simon knew Price’s mom from when he was a kid, at the woman’s shelter Simon’s mom went to several times. He must have been one of those ‘troubled teens’. Your hand went to Simon’s knee, giving it a squeeze before looking back at Price, who had disappeared behind his newspaper again.

“Mumma,” Winnie spoke from beside Gaz, looking over to you.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Can I color on Uncle Soap?” Her hazel eyes were big, she looked as if she was going to pop her lip out to beg. You smirked and pointed to Soap, who had a big smile on his face.

“You need to ask Uncle Soap. Did you ask Uncle Gaz if he liked your art?” You nodded towards Gaz, who stared at the Sharpie in Soap’s hand until Winnie looked up at him.

She quietly asked him if he liked his new art, he smiled and said, “Love it. I’ll keep ‘em forever.”

The girl squealed in delight before looking back at Soap, blue marker in her hand. “Uncle Soap, can I pretty please draw on your arm?”

Soap jutted out his arm, letting the little girl grab it with one hand and immediately began to scribble. Soap’s smile got even bigger as he watched the little artist, you looked back at Simon. He settled the small glass jar on the table beside Soap’s packet, moving to wipe off Mellie’s face as she chewed on her spoon.

Your arms went around Simon’s bicep, moving to rest your cheek into his shoulder to gaze at your baby. You do want another one, but it’s up to your husband - another little girl that smiles just as wide as her sisters, or a boy that loves to play firefighter with his sisters.

You pressed a kiss to your husband’s shoulder before looking at the rest of your family at the dinner table, holding your husband just a little closer. He pressed a kiss to your head before trying to take back the spoon from his daughter, who almost started screaming bloody murder.

———

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley headcanons #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x you #simon riley x wife!reader #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

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euovennia · 1 year

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short and sweet | ghost/soap/könig

sorry to the anon that it took me so long to get out, i've been dealing with some stuff but here it is! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairings: ghost x reader, soap x reader, könig x reader

warnings: bigotry, misogyny, people just being jerks, canon typical violence

summary: in which three buff military men become all too aware of your struggles. (based on this request)

simon 'ghost' riley

when the idea of simon having a crush comes to mind, i feel like he's one of those people who prefers to observe them from afar rather than have direct interactions with them

so that paired with the fact you're not in the 141 and you're mute, it's gonna take a very long while until you two start interacting, at least a few months after he realizes he's taken a liking to you

they'll usually be pretty short and sweet, but not in the typical sense you may be thinking of

i'm thinking something more along the lines of giving each other a small nod of acknowledgement when you pass each other in the shooting range; him having already practiced and you just barely walking in to start practicing

and honestly? he's completely fine with this arrangement

in fact he prefers it

he still gets a chance to give you a once over without getting distracted from the things he wants/needs to do throughout the day, he considers it a win

but when your target practice slowly begins to overlap with his, he's a bit surprised to find that he doesn't really mind it all that much

there's something oddly comforting about knowing you're just a few stalls down from him

and of course there's the added benefit of him getting to see you and your signature sniper rifle in action

for those of you wondering, yes, he's become quite aware of your talents

how could he not when soap made himself comfortable at his table during meal time and went on about, "a real cute girl and her impeccable aim."

soap's words, not his

and it continues on like this for a while, you two continuing on with your unofficially official meeting times

it becomes comfortable and familiar, two things simon isn't quite used to, but two things that he's quite content with

so he can't help but feel a little empty when you stop attending your unofficial meetings at the shooting range

he's more frustrated with himself than anything cause, let's face it, he's not the type to let himself get comfortable/familiar with just anyone so he's honestly more annoyed that he let himself get attached when he hasn't even made a move to properly talk to you (what a silly goose)

anyway, in true simon fashion he decides to deal with it by not dealing with it

in other words, he just kinda continues on with his routine because he's become so numb to the idea of people leaving his life (no matter how big or small of a role they played) that he doesn't bother acting out on any emotion he has if it does happen

and i think after a while he'll just kinda end up pushing you out of his mind (despite the fact his eyes are fully glued onto you whenever he sees you around base)

so when you walk into the range and make yourself cozy at your usual stall, he's a bit frazzled

so much so he ends up packing up his equipment and making a beeline for the exit

but it's at this moment he bumps into a particularly bratty group of recruits they'd gotten not too long ago

he has to practically hold himself back from snapping the poor kid's neck when he asks simon if he'd seen you enter the range

call it extreme, but the mocking smile that stretched across the recruit's lips as he said your name just ticked him off

simon is a man of intuition and so he can already tell something's not quite right so, curious, he just gives off a gruff, "yes," before waving them off

he's surprised that he manages to bite his tongue when he can hear of the recruits whisper a small, "what a fuckin' arsehole," as they walk away from him

anyway

cue him silently stalking after the group and being met with the sight of them crowded around you as you lay flat on your stomach, hands still steady on the rifle

he watches as you line yourself up to take the shot before eventually resting your hand on the trigger and pulling it, only to miss when one of the recruits purposefully kicks at your shin

another recruit makes herself comfortable beside you with a grin spread across her lips as her voice rings out in a mocking tone, "aw, poor thing missed her shot again. it's a wonder she's made it this far."

while his eyes narrow in confusion at your lack of response, it only eggs the girl on as she nudges your shoulder

"still can't talk, i see," she lets out a wistful sigh, "that's a shame. i think you'd sound really pretty screaming out for help on the field."

another recruit takes this as their chance to jump in, "guess we'll just have to leave her stranded. better for us anyway, no dead weight."

the girl by your side rolls her eyes, "we probably won't even get the chance to abandon her, she's so tiny. she'd probably get squashed like an ant before we could even try anything."

her remark elicits a laugh from the small group of recruits, but ghost certainly isn't smiling when he approaches the group and stares down at them with his trademark glare

they can definitely feel their souls leave their bodies when they look up and see him standing over them menacingly

it gets even worse when he opens his mouth, "that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"

they all just kinda stumble onto their feet at his words, not bothering to say anything as their eyes remain pretty much glued to the floor

he's not having it though so he'll repeat his question, tone louder and meaner than before which causes one of the recruits to just let out a meek, "no sir."

too bad it was the one who insulted him earlier cause he immediately steps in front of them and just kinda, "what? arsehole not good enough an insult for ya?"

you, still lying on the ground and watching everything unfold, can't help the small smile that tugs at the edge of your lips as you witness the way the man's face visibly pales

upon receiving no response from him, simon straightens out his posture before point over to you and speaking once more, "you better pray that girl is more forgiving than i am, because if it were me, you'd all be covering your own asses out on the field."

he watches with great joy as they each begin to shift on their feet uncomfortably before dismissing them in a gruff voice

after making sure they left, simon makes his way back over to you who is still lying on the ground with your rifle as you line up your shots once more

he feels a small wave of pride overcome him when you hit your target perfectly

so much to the point where he walks over to you and spills out a quick, "good aim," to which you'll look up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and give him a small nod of acknowledgement

his eyes narrow, "you don't talk much, do you?"

you simply shake your head

he'll give you a quick once over before looking down at his watch and realizing the dining hall will be closing soon

tempted as he is to just walk away, he can't help but wonder if you'd already ate

so he speaks again, "dining hall is closing in a bit. you're free to join me if you haven't eaten yet, was just on my way."

you pause for a bit and give it a bit of thought before nodding and packing up your stuff before eventually walking out of the range with simon by your side

you don't have the heart to tell him you already ate

but when you look up and see him quickly avert his eyes from you and onto the pavement beneath your feet, you don't see why you even would

john 'soap' mactavish

when i tell you this man was gone the moment he saw you, i mean he was GONE

he genuinely couldn't believe someone as sweet and lovely as you could exist in the same space as him

but the moment he sees you shoot that gorgeous little rifle of yours with a precision that could only be described as pure, raw perfection? it's over. he's all in.

i'm talking, 'fuck me up and send me straight to heaven. this is how i die.'

he's so down bad for you it's insane

and i imagine soap can be quite confident and charming when he wants to be so best believe he'll have no problem in walking straight up to you and trying to strike up a conversation

i'd like to put emphasis on the 'trying' part of that last bit because it becomes quite clear quite quick that you're don't talk

well

maybe the 'quite quick' part isn't so accurate because it probably takes him a minute or two before he finally catches onto the fact you don't talk

in other words, it takes you pulling out your phone and looking up a volume muted symbol and pointing at it before motioning to yourself for him to catch on

he just kinda makes an 'oh' face before letting out a small chuckle and saying something like, "i see now, why didn't ya just tell me that before?"

and you're just looking at him like ???

but he's looking at you like :)))

yeah he's being a little ridiculous right now, but he just got back from a long mission and he's quite sleep deprived so don't mind him he's just being a silly goose, ok?

but truth be told, that dumb little first interaction doesn't even really matter in the long run because it's the bold initiative on his part that makes it so easy for the two of you to become friends

you spend a lot of time hanging around one another and your once carefully planned, scheduled days turn into unpredictable blurs that are jam packed with soap getting the two of you into trouble

i imagine you've become quite familiar with the stoic face of captain john price

but really, how could you not?

especially when soap catches onto the fact that price is more inclined to let soap off with a warning for whatever trouble he's got himself mixed up in whenever you're around

he may be older than the rest of his team, but he knows that dopey grin soap's got plastered on his face whenever he's around you means he's extra sweet on you

and who is he to stand in the way of his boy's happiness with some extra chores?

he's a total dad <3

anyway

because you spend a lot of time around soap, i think it's fair to say that you sometimes end up pushing off work in favor of hanging around the scotsman

and really who could blame you?

he's got a dazzling smile, a charming accent, and a sparkling personality. you'd be a fool not to soak up all the time you can get with him

but that just means whenever he does end up leaving for missions, that's when you really buckle down and start getting all your piled up work done

it can be frustrating and a bit of a bother, but knowing your schedule will be completely free (at least for a little bit) as soon as he gets back is more than enough to get you through the tedious work load you've allowed yourself to accumulate

only this time it's a bit harder to remember that

and it's all because of your newly assigned CO

he's a bit of an older man, which isn't a bad thing

at least until you find out that his mindset lines up with the ideology of a 1950's working husband

you know, the kind of guy who believes it's a man's job to go out and work a job to provide for his family while his wife stays home and takes care of the children, house, and meal prepping

in other words

a complete and utter bigot

so between trying to complete all the work you'd so foolishly neglected in your time hanging out with soap and trying to stop yourself from snapping your superior's neck every time he grabbed your rifle from your hands with a condescending, "careful! wouldn't a small thing like you hurting yourself with this," it's no wonder you couldn't remember that today was the day soap was returning from another one of his top secret missions

in fact, the thought doesn't occur to you at all until soap pulls up a chair beside your desk and makes himself comfortable while you're looking over some paperwork your darling CO had left you because he, "works too hard and needs a break."

more like a break in his skull, but to each their own

anyway i can definitely imagine soap carrying around a small notebook that you use to communicate with him when you can't be bothered to watch him try and fail to decipher your hand movements

and yes, he totally brings it on missions with him just so he can open it up and trace over your handwriting with a gentle touch and a soft smile and oh my god imagine confessing to him like that (i'm kinda dying to write an imagine based on that now (mute or non-mute reader, i'm down for either tbh) so lmk if you're interested!)

anyway

when the two of you break apart from your usual 'welcome back' hug, he'll slide the notebook over to you as a simple question falls from his lips, "since when do you do paperwork?"

and this just prompts you to let out a huff and roll your eyes before snatching up the notebook/pen combo and writing out all your frustrations on the pages

it's safe to say this man is absolutely floored when he reads through it all

frustrated and angry as he is, he doesn't outwardly express it

he simply grabs the heap of paperwork sitting on your desk and promptly tosses it into the nearest recycling bin before grabbing your hand and leading you off to something completely unproductive and time wasting

it's exactly what you need

the night will eventually end off with him walking you to your room and offering you a sweet hug with a small lil kiss to your head

it's adorable, really <3

what's not so adorable is the way he barges into price's office with the notebook in hand before tossing the pages where you'd detailed your CO's behavior onto his desk

price reads through them and best believe all this man can see is red

as someone who takes pride in becoming a role model for those who work under him, he can barely believe of the things he's reading

he's so ready to throw hands

but he can't sadly

so he settles for the next best thing

COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS

with how ruthless price is in his mission to humiliate this man, it's really no surprise when you eventually find out he's been fired

the moment you and the rest of your unit get the news, you practically run all over base to find soap

and the moment you do, you've pretty much tackled him to the ground in a hug

and he simply wraps his arms around you, that same dopey grin price teases him for stretched onto his lips because he knows and he couldn't be happier

he's just happy you're happy <3

könig

so because of his affiliation with KorTac, i like to imagine that you're part of another PMC group that tends to help each other out on missions whether it be due to mission overlap, or just needing some extra support

but despite this, i imagine it would take quite some time before you and könig even meet simply due to the fact that you're almost never assigned to be sent out on the field

and if i'm being honest, i can definitely see not a single member of KorTac having even the slightest clue that you exist until you're randomly brought onto the field one day during a particularly tricky mission

long story short, könig and a few other of his team members got ambushed and they needed all the help they could get which is where you come in

granted they don't actually see you until you all meet back at base, safe and sound as can be

while könig and his team are surprised by the new face, they're even more surprised to learn that you've been part of the team for nearly eight whole months

when asked about why they've never seen you on the field before, the answer is simple; "she's been doing other missions," which you've come to learn essentially means, "she's still in training because we don't trust her to be on her own yet."

and while the other members of KorTac seem to just take that simple explanation at face value, könig can't help but notice the way your face falls and shoulders slump upon hearing it

and it's at this moment he realizes he hadn't seen you anywhere on the field at the time, so where the hell were you?

he decides he needs to be more attentive

so the next time KorTac calls on your group for some extra assistance, he's keeping a sharp eye out there in hopes that he'd see you

but he doesn't

even so, he still holds out hope for next time

and the next

okay this is ridiculous

where the hell were you?

he knows you're going on the missions with the rest of the team because you're always there when everyone gets back to base, still dressed in your tactical gear and wiping off the dirt that seemed to cling onto your uniform

so why did he never actually see you?

he's a tall guy so surely, he, out of anyone, should be able to pinpoint your location on the field with a few simple turns of his head, right?

well apparently not

you're practically a ghost (hehe see what i did there)

his frustration with not knowing where you're at on the field has him going mad

he so desperately wants to just come out and ask you directly, but he's convinced himself that you'll somehow take offense to such a question so he decides against it

so he decides to settle on the next best thing

which is pretty much just endlessly staring you down on the field before you eventually disappear off to god knows where

it's not the smartest idea he's ever had if the way you seem to squirm under his piercing gaze is anything to go by, but he just can't seem to help it

especially not when he comes to notice just how pretty you really are

the soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way your cheeks puff out so cutely when you're finally able to get your hands on a much needed snack after a particularly long mission

you're stunning, how could he not stare?

yeah he's definitely got a little crush

but he'll never admit it

especially not with the amount of teasing horangi throws his way whenever you enter the room

anyways i think i'm getting ahead of myself here, let's get back on track lol

i imagine it all comes to a head on the battlefield

one moment könig is going at it with no more than three enemy soliders, but it seems within the blink of an eye those numbers have nearly tripled as he sees a sizeable group of enemy soldiers heading this way

he knows he's more than capable of holding his own in close combat, but with this many people? he can't help but feel a little uneasy as he sees the group grow closer and closer

that is, of course, until the unmistakable sound of a rifle fires through the air and the group of soldiers who were previously approaching him steadily begin to fall to the ground, a pool of crimson blood flowing from their heads

könig's eyes catch onto a bright red laser making small patterns on the ground in front of him so, curious, he looks up to find the source of the light coming from under a pile of rubble located on the roof of a building

upon making eye contact with the small area, the red laser pointer goes dead and you quickly poke your head out from your self appointed hiding spot and offer him a small 'ok' motion with your hand before concealing yourself back into your spot once more

he swears his heart soars at the sight

satisfied with himself and your stellar aim, his mind becomes preoccupied with the mission once more, a newly placed sense of vigor in his attacks

but when everyone is cozying up in the common area after the mission's been completed (with the exception of you bc you're taking a shower), könig decides he can't hold himself back from asking a certain question that's been on his mind for a long time

so he simply decides to go for it and ask, "why hasn't she been assigned to our missions before?"

your teammates all look at each other for a few moments before one of them pipes up, "didn't think she was ready."

another one decides to offer their input, "there are times we still don't think she is, but our captain told us to bring her in anyway."

könig and the rest of those present from KorTac's confusion must be apparent because one of the other members of your team decides to speak out, "she was still a bit rocky when she first came to us. we just wanted her to polish up on her skills before we sent her out on an official mission. it's more out of worry than anything."

the explanation calms the small bout of worry that had infested his mind when they first offered their reasoning for not including you on missions, but he can't help but feel a little pit grow in his stomach

so he decides to speak up once more, "well i think they're capable. perhaps it's time you trust them more."

one of your teammates brows raise, "you think so?"

he nods, "took out a whole group of soldiers that were coming at me, i'd probably be done for if it weren't for them."

he finds the look of shock on their faces amusing as they ask, "how?"

könig leans back, "they were hiding in some rubble on one of the buildings. took them out with a sniper."

he watches a look of realization come over their faces as one of them exclaims, "i thought they were running around the field, not hiding!"

horangi decides to pipe in, "you didn't know? she's always running around the rooftops. i see her all the time."

your teammates practically implode on themselves at his revelation before they start hounding him for questions, ones he graciously answers

könig watches with a small smile hidden under his hood before he can see a small movement of the corner of his eye

he turns his head and sees you peering over at him with a small smile and he watches as you sign out a quick, "thank you," with your hands

he sucks in a sharp breath before bringing up his hands and signing back a shaky, "you're welcome"

his hidden smile widens as he watches your eyes glisten with delight, "you know sign?"

he's quick to respond, "since i was little."

horangi is the one to give his arm a harsh nudge when könig all but freezes upon seeing what you sign to him next

"would you like to join me for dinner?"

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ghouljams · 7 months

Note

Friend, I found the funniest writing prompt on Pinterest and immediately thought about your cowboy!AU. I know you have a lot of asks, but I couldn’t just let the opportunity to share it with you slip between my little fingers.

« I never thought my day would start with a goat, but… Here I am. With a motherfucking goat. »

For some reason, I can picture Ghost saying this, with a very deadpan look and tone of voice. If it took place in the past cowboy!au, where he is quite obviously enamoured with Goose but also still quite clumsy around her, it would probably be even funnier ?

Or Bee. Who doesn’t really know how to handle the farm life, but is still trying. With König looking at the goat in her arms like - « well, time to go get some wooden planks then. »

I can’t stop cackling at those scenarios I’ve got in mind. I hope they will make you laugh too x)

1870's!Ghost my beloved. He's so off his game with Goose despite being head over heels for her.

"You know when you said you had a surprise for me this isn't what I had in mind," Ghost tells you, holding the new born kid in his arms close to his chest. Both his muscular arms hold the little goat as it bleats, the poor kid looking so much smaller when held by such a giant of a man.

"You know this isn't exactly my version of a perfect morning," You tell him, soothing the new mother goat. You think she's got another one in her, which makes you a little nervous for her. You like this goat, be a shame to lose her.

"Never thought I'd be starting my day with a goat," Ghost gripes.

"What did you think? That I was bringing you out to the barn to take my fuckin-" You glance over your shoulder at him, the sharp heat in his eyes when he looks at you, "Oh my god you thought I wanted to fuck you in the barn!"

"Did not," He insists. You scoff, and turn your attention back to the goat.

"You think the barn is a good spot to take a lady's virtue?" You call over your shoulder.

"Course not," Ghost's voice is rough, even, he's stating a fact, "unless the lady asked."

"I'm not askin'," You throw back in annoyance. This isn't exactly how you wanted to start your morning either.

"Don't wanna fuck ya in the barn," Ghost grumbles, his voice low enough you could almost ignore it. You don't. You glare over your shoulder at him, he glares back. He's lucky you're sweet on him or you'd make him sleep in the barn. Damn pretty boy.

"You wanna wait 'til we're married like a gentleman, right?" You snap at him.

"Gonna marry you anyway, what's the point waitin'," He snaps back.

"What?" You frown, not expecting him to agree with you. Simon holds your gaze firm, still glaring. You blink, trying to come up with something to say back that isn't "I didn't know you wanted to marry me" or something similar. But you also... didn't know he wanted to marry you, you'd meant it as a joke.

You feel another contraction as you pet you're goat's stomach and transfer your attention back to her. Maybe if you keep your focus on your work you won't be able to feel Simon's eyes staring holes through you. Patiently impatient.

He's going to marry you, just you fucking wait.

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ohbo-ohno · 9 months

Note

Johnny being allowed to fuck but not cum all week because he pissed simon off, he tries bargaining with reader at one point to just - ease the cockring off , simon won't notice it'll be fine. Reader doesn't even have a chance to consider it before Johnny ripped out of her and is muzzled because bad dogs need to keep quiet

hm. you shot me dead with this one. like. what am i supposed to do with myself now?

1.4k of smut below the cut. cw: rough puppy play, itty bitty tiny second of cbt, edging/denial, simon is real real mean to johnny

something about johnny being in trouble and not being allowed to cum in you but trying anyway.... oh he's horrible

maybe this is after he was a little too rough with you (like that ask where he fucked up your wrist, or something similar) and he's in deep shit with simon. not only is he allowed to fuck you, simon makes him fuck you at least once a day. lines up behind johnny and moves his hips for him, doesn't even let him thrust on his own, guides every tiny little twitch. tugs him out right at the last second, makes johnny watch as he comes inside you. spends the whole time calling him bad, says if he could just learn to fucking listen for once he could mount you properly

johnny spends the whole week in misery. guy can barely sit down, he just wants to hump fucking everything. simon tells him he can't sit on the furniture when he's so drippy :( makes him sit on the floor instead - or he can let you clean johnny up, but no coming. does he want to be edged again or kneel between his legs like the mutt he is?

jacks him off in the shower in the morning, stopping right before he comes. leaves him crying and makes johnny wash his hair. has you cockwarm him for a bit, to make sure he stays completely hard. makes johnny eat you out til you're nearly knocked out, jacks him off slowly and stops every time you come.

he's nearly done with his punishment when he fucking breaks. it's a night simon isn't meant to be home until after midnight. you'd gone to bed earlier than johnny, wake up to him at you back, nose nudging your cheekbone and hard cock thrusting against your back.

"just gonna- just gonna fuck you, bonnie, 'k?"

"johnny?" you murmur, still half asleep. "but... simon said-"

"simon isn't fucking here," he snarls back, and you feel his bared teeth press against his shoulder. "he won't know. i'll be quick, ok, lass? just gotta... gotta cum, then you go back to sleep, yeah?"

"johnny," you'd whine again, getting a little squirmy in your spot as you feel his hands work at his own dick, then feel him start to slide in without any prep. "john- ow..."

"hush," he breathes heavily in your ear, hips already starting to work. you can feel how quickly his heart beats against you back. "i'll eat you out after, just let me... just..."

he doesn't speak after that, and neither do you. he's fast, needy, you can tell he's only gonna last a few minutes. you're still half-asleep, lost in the comforting warmth of your blankets and pillows, can't do anything but lay limp like a doll for him and relish in the pleasure.

you don't hear simon come in. one minute johnny is thrusting away inside of you, the next he's being ripped off, a sharp yelp coming from his lips followed by a long drawn out whine.

"bad fucking boy," you hear simon snarl over your shoulder, the sound of a slap echoing through the air. "you that fucking lost in your instincts, dog? can't think with nothin' but your dick - you see a pussy and fuck it, that's it huh? can't even listen to a simple command from your master. useless mutt."

you turn your head to the side, sleep clearing from your head at the sight of johnny crumpled to his knees, simon tall and proud above him. you can see the shine of tears on johnny's cheeks with the little light from the doorway.

"simon- simon-"

"no," simon's tone is merciless, his boot coming to rest on johnny's rock-hard dick and pushing down. "that's not what bad boys get to call me."

another whine, a plaintive "master..."

you see johnny's hips work a little, tiny thrusts against the sole of the boot. simon's scowl grows, backhanding johnny with bruising force and sending him sprawling to the floor. "why are you speaking? dogs don't fucking talk."

he stares down at johnny for another moment, both of them taking great heaving breaths. finally, he sighs loud and angry. "fine. i was going easy on you, mutt, was tryin' to be nice. but clearly you don't deserve nice."

he stalks over to their closet, yanking open a drawer you know holds the mean toys - the ones you don't like nearly as much as the others. he grabs something silver and shiny, storm back over to johnny and hauls him up by the hair.

johnny scrambles to follow, but simon doesn't give him a chance to stand. just drags his weight to the bed, throws him onto his back nearly on top of your legs.

you squeak a little, simon's aggressive energy something you're not entirely comfortable being so close to. you curl your legs up, folding into a little ball against the pillows as you stare at the two of them with wide eyes.

simon glances over to you at the sound, eyes softening behind his mask immediately. "oh, love, you're not in trouble. you couldn't stop the mutt from fucking you, huh? don't worry. we'll get him punished and i'll take care of you."

johnny whines again and starts wiggling around, eyes squeezed shut as his hips desperately thrust, looking for any sort of sensation. simon's attention slams back to him, a growl rumbling from his throat as he cups johnny's dick in one hand.

"gotta get you soft, dog," he growls, and you see his hand moving around a bit until he's got johnny's balls in a vice-grip. "the ring wasn't enough for a horny bitch like you, we'll see how you like the cage."

johnny's past words, can only writhe on the bed with little animal noises slipping past his lips. simon doesn't give him any leeway, doesn't give him comfort when he starts to sob a little, just keeps squeezing.

once he's apparently soft enough, simon is quick and methodical about locking johnny's cock up. almost impersonal.

"there," he grunts when he stands up to stare down at johnny. he lands a slap to johnny's dick, gets the smaller man jolting and crying out. "in your cage now. you're not sleeping in bed with us people until you prove you can handle it."

johnny hardly struggles as simon forces him to his knees, kicking at his side to guide him to the crate looming in the corner of the room.

just moments later simon's at the bed with you. he tugs the mask off now (knows you like it sometimes, but also knows it scares you a little - rarely wears it outside of punishments) and crawls on top of you, hands soft and slow as he coaxes you to stretch out back on the bed.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low and just for you. "you're a good girl. can't help what the mutt does, huh? i know, i know. i'll take care of you now, fuck you right."

there are whines from the corner as simon flips you onto your stomach. he lifts you up to your knees, everything soft as he rubs your pussy a few times before slipping his cock into you.

he's always so heavy. you sink further into the bed when he gives you his weight, little moan slipping past your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. johnny gets louder.

"yeah, there you go. good girl, baby, so good for me, huh?"

simon fucks you deep and slow. no rush whatsoever, just nice and languid. you'd probably fall asleep if not for johnny's increasingly desperate noises, the sound of his crate rocking against the wall as he does something in there.

at one point simon sighs all annoyed into your ear, pulls out without warning. you whine and he pets a hand over your hair, whisps "just give me a second, doll, gotta shut the dog up and then i'll finish you off" before walking away.

you don't open your eyes, but you hear simon moving around the room. hear him spit, "makin' me fucking muzzle you because you can't shut up. nothing but a goddamn animal, are you?"

when simon fucks you again, johnny is silent.

he brings you to a slow and easy orgasm, fingers stroking at your achy clit. finishes inside you at nearly the same time.

he tucks you into his arms after, curls you into him and sighs, the sound all satisfied man. you fall asleep like that, johnny's predicament the furthest thing from your mind.

#asks and answers #bo writes #dlmliyh #btw simon totally lied about what time he'd be back so he could catch johnny and get him in more trouble lol #favorites

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tacticaldiary · 10 months

Text

Where One Goes, The Other Follows

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Angst.

Note: Mentions of attempted suicide. Death on a mission

"You said we'd get out of this, remember? You promised."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out."

A/N: I don't feel great, so you get to not feel great with me! You're welcome!

Masterlist

It hurts.

Everything aches, a deep-seated anguish pulsing through her entire body. Like a shot to heart...no, a shot to the heart would have been quicker than this. Painless. Instant.

Merciful.

She chokes on shallow breaths as blood pools between the shaky hands pressed to the middle of her abdomen. Crimson gurgles up in her throat, so metallic she can almost make herself relax with the familiarity of it.

A simple mission, they had told her. A simple in and out, no clearance to engage. Keep it clean and quiet. When Price had handed her the packet of information, Ghost already flipping through a similar one, she'd joked about it being a vacation from the gruelling environments the team is usually forced to tough out.

It was supposed to be easy.

So why does she have a bullet lodged in her stomach? Why did they pick up the intel in a suspiciously empty warehouse, only to be ambushed by a few dozen Russian soldiers laying in wait? Their intel was rotten, she grits her teeth at the thought.

Pinned behind a metal container, the roar of gunfire crescendos over her ears. Pressed thigh to thigh, she feels hopelessness claw at her when Ghost makes a frustrated sound at the empty clicking of his last pistol.

Nothing. They had nothing but the slowing beat of their hearts and the uncertainty of their lives.

Despite the situation, she laughs. A tortured, humourless, choked sound as her head hits the metal behind her. One soldier injured, the other soon to be ripped apart by dozen. What a way to go out.

Ghost glances at her, eyes a little too wide under his mask.

It was funny. Everything was a little funny under the prospect of dying right now.

"Keep pressure on that." He orders when her hands slip. "They don't know we're out of ammo." Patting down his vest for a second, he unclips a grenade. The last one there, a last resort. You didn't throw a grenade like that in a close quartered environment unless it was a last resort.

"We'll make a run for the shutter on the left once this goes off, yeah?" He says, eyebrows knitting together in what's blatant concern when she doesn't respond. "Copy, Sergeant?" He says sharply, moving to shake her shoulder.

"I can't move, Simon." Comes a soft reply, the resigned tone sends chills down his spine. "I'll stay here and distract them. You take the shutter. Gotta get this intel to Price."

"Negative." he barks, shifting into position. "We move as I planned. Evac is just beyond those doors in the field. They won't follow us there, not enough cover against heavy fire."

For a moment she comes back to herself. Did he not hear her? "I can't...Simon I can't move-"

"Heard you the first time, love." That's all he says before pulling the pin out and tossing the object. There are a couple of clinks as it rolls, then the shouts and yells of their enemies as they recognise the threat. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

Hope dwindles, like the last rays of light before the sunset. There was no getting her out of here. She knows that. Dead weight is tough to deal with, useless in their line of work.

"Promise?" She breathes out roughly, a joke for a dying soldier.

The conviction he meets her eyes with, fierce and determined makes even her dark thoughts halt in their tracks. "I promise."

She closes her eyes, braces for the loud noise and flying shrapnel, only to be yanked to her feet and thrown over a broad shoulder. The movement makes pain wash across her body, enough to make black dot her vision, but she gets her bearings and clutches onto the back of his vest anyway, letting him do as he pleases.

The explosion sounds, ringing in their ears and Simon takes off instantly. Ducking behind containers, he almost makes it to the exit before shots start firing again.

He grunts, jolts more than a few times before he reaches the shutters, slipping out and slamming them shut behind him.

The metal and concrete is scraped from her vision, replaced with a green field and the sound of a chopper's blades whirring. Wind blows against her hair and for a moment it seems surreal.

She thought she was going to die. A shuddering gasp makes its way through her as they stop midway through the field. Simon moves to set her down gently-

And sways.

"Simon-?" She starts to ask, halfway to the ground. Eyebrows furrowed in intense concentration, she can't help but notice the way his mask is damp from sweat...his clothes too, and surely that much of a run wouldn't have been enough to wear him out. She's so making fun of him the moment she can suck in a full breath if that's the case, and-

Simon buckles to the ground, taking her with him. She lands on top of him, pulling a strangled groan out of the man. "Shit, are you...you okay?" She pants, clutching a hand to her wound before sitting up on her knees next to him.

Her entire front is covered in more blood that it had been before, and that's odd because...oh.

His front is stained with enough blood to make his previously green vest the colour of wine.

The sight stuns her, knocks the breath out of her because...what?

"Hey, you-Simon you're bleeding." She gasps, abandoning her own woes to take a better look at him. Blinking away the sluggish dizziness from her own blood loss, she carefully tears off his vest and-

His torso is riddled with bullet holes.

Too many to count. All of them bubbling and bleeding, pouring out liquid that should be inside him because he needs that, it's important and he's going to bleed out if this keeps going...

Hands hovering over his chest, they move from injury to injury, not knowing which one to press down on. For each one there were three more, and the fight against the rising panic and bile rising in her is getting tougher and tougher by the second.

"Made it out, at least." He breathes, shallow and raspy.

"You-you're bleeding." Is all she can manage to say, voice shaky.

In shock.

"I noticed." His humour isn't appreciated.

"I'm sorry." She chokes out. "I didn't...you got shot because I-"

"Oi." He grits out. A shaky, trembling hand moves to cup her jaw and despite the state he's in the touch is grounding and as rough as ever. "None of...that."

"You can't die." She encases his palm with her own, keeps it pressed there uncaring of the blood slicking her face. "You can't. Simon, you-it's okay. It's going to be okay." A sob rips its way out of her, though she tries to choke the rest back.

"Can't...can't kill someone who's already dead...love." He mumbles into her hair, blooding it with blood that he's coughing up way too fast to not be concerned about.

"Don't leave," She begs, hunched over him, clutching onto his gear. She wants it off, wants to rip it all off and feel his skin, press her hand against his chest, and make sure his heart never stops beating. "Don't leave me, Simon. I can't- I need you." With a scratchy voice, she pleads and begs, trying to keep him talking. "You promised, remember? You promised we'd get out."

She feels him shake his head minutely, a movement she might have missed if not for how close she was pressed against him. "Promised you'd...get out." He croaks, bleeding out but nevertheless the same strong, still presence as always.

Still...still?

Her breath chokes her, her entire body trembling as her grip on his shirt tightens. "Simon...?" She whispers. No answer.

A sob rips out of her, raw and painful because this wasn't real. It was a dream. There was no other explanation.

She'd wake up in her room, head pillowed on his chest and pretending to still be asleep just to have a few more minutes of his warmth. Simon would chuckle, she'd feel the motion under her skin, and he'd prod at her side, line kisses against her forehead until a smile broke free and her ruse was up.

They'd be happy.

She'd be happy.

Her face stays pressed against him, her grip iron. She doesn't pull away, letting the primal fear and grief mix with the senseless hope that maybe he was still alive. She hadn't confirmed it. Hadn't peeked up to see it, so maybe he was still there, waiting for her. Like he said he always would.

Hours, days, maybe minutes? A period of time later footsteps thunder behind her. Shrouded in delirium and grief, she's still a soldier, and her instincts kick in.

Protect, protect, protect.

It's a mantra in her head as she curls over him, unwilling to let them take him away from her.

People surround them but her grip does not falter. Hands grab at her shoulder and someone's speaking, saying words, what...

"-go, you have to let go." The voice is...shaky?

Gaz?

Confused, she tilts her head up a centimeter to catch a glimpse of the person who has her. Gaz. It was Gaz. Looking exhausted, shaken but determined. His eyes flitter away from Ghost on the ground repeatedly.

"Gaz?" She asks, voice cracking. He nods, taking her confusion to his advantage and pulling her to her feet. When she makes a strangled sound and hunched over, he finally notes the wound on her abdomen and curses.

"We need a medic." He calls over his shoulder, pulling to sling her arm over his shoulder. "We've got you, exfil's here. You're gonna be alright now, yeah?"

"N-no." She shakes her head, fuzzy and full. "Not me, I-...Simon...Ghost, you have to help him he's..." A hacking cough cuts her off, sending sharp flares of pain all across her body. Gaz firmly keeps her head towards the front when she tries to look back. "What-...no, not me." A weak attempt at pulling away is made, "Simon, Gaz I need to help...Ghost." Mumbling to herself half incoherent, she finally bats his hand away and turns to cast a glance back.

Her steps falter into nothing when she sees her boyfriend.

The sliver of skin beneath his mask is a sickly pale, blood dripping out from under it. His balaclava is soaked in blood, a strange waterboarding technique to chart for the future, her delirious mind unhelpfully supplies.

It's the stillness that jarrs her, makes the reality finally sink in.

Simon was quiet, he was purposeful, he could lay looking through a sniper scope in one place for hours but he was never still.

This kind of stillness was one brought by the absence of the warmth of light.

Gaz is talking...is he? His mouth is moving that much she can see out of the corner of her eyes, but all she can hear is static as her mind clicks together a devastating picture, a scene that would haunt her for as long as she lives.

Dead.

She thinks she might throw up.

Simon. Ghost. Simon was dead.

They were supposed to be a pair. Unbreakable. Where one went, the other followed offering the silent reassurance that neither of them would ever be alone.

Where one went, the other followed.

She lunges against Gaz's hold, the strength in her battered form surprising the soldier enough to allow her to rip free and stumble over to her lover.

Shaky hands fumble around Simon's body, one of them grips his gloved one in her own tightly, God he was cold, how was he already cold? until cool metal meets her fingertips, slicked with their blood.

People call her name. One person...maybe five? It doesn't matter, nothing matters right now but the press of the barrel against her forehead.

There's no hesitation when she pulls the trigger.

But there's a distinct lack of blinding pain.

A stunned, heavy silence takes hold of the field. Slowly, guilt and dread and hate and self-loathing curling up in her gut, she peels her eyes open to see her team. Her family.

And if the cold corpse of her lover beside her wasn't already punishment enough, the devastated, broken, confused looks on theirs' definitely does.

Soap makes a strangled noise when she pulls the trigger again, her head full of cotton.

Click.

Oh.

That's right.

The chamber was empty, wasn't it?

Staring numbly at the gun, at the pistol that Simon had carried with him throughout his entire career, she doesn't fight the hands that grip at her, that pull her up.

Doesn't fight the way Simon's cold hand slips from hers. When the gun is gently pried from her iron grip.

Words fall upon deaf ears, a buzzing sound accompanying her glazed over expression as she stares at two soldiers dragging over a body bag towards him over Price's shoulder.

"It's alright, lass." Soap mumbles in her ear, and distinctly she notes the sheer of tears in his eyes out of the corner of his own. "We've got ya."

"He's..." She says faintly. Simon's head is zipped into the bag out of view. "Gone..."

And then she cries. No, crying is too lenient a word, for what leaves her is a sound reserved for a wounded animal, a sound that not even the most experienced interrogators could ever hope to coax out of her. She wails and cries, hoarse and raw because nothing about this was okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

Because she was alive.

And her other half was dead.

And she was still alive.

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(1/08/2023)

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soap-ify · 6 months

Text

simon can't be with you anymore.

cw gn!reader , angst , hurt / no comfort, simon doesn't know what he's doing.

notes streets said that it's angstmas !! didn't know that it existed until recently. anyways, since i'm having the worst week of my life, i'm gonna ruin it for simon too.

maybe simon was being stupid.

he probably was. not that he could think of any other options besides leaving you.

his work was too dangerous, and the next deployment was probably going to be his last. especially after the recent briefing he went to where the captain spoke about the upcoming mission — a highly risky one. in fact, even the most skilled like ‘ghost’ was bound to either get severely injured or just die. probably the latter. especially since he wouldn’t be with the rest of the taskforce 141 in the fucking warzone.

just a sacrifice for the better of the world, yeah? even though a part of him didn’t want to. fuck the world. you meant so much more to him. but he had chosen this job right. he had agreed to the mission.

and after all, he never considered himself deserving of you, deserving of this relationship he had with you. he knew he was somewhat of a distant boyfriend — barely opening up about his own feelings or past. at least he had shown you his face. you didn’t deserve someone as dangerous as him, someone so… damaged.

he didn’t want to die knowing that you’d be waiting home, all sad and lonely. he didn’t want to leave you like that, but at the same time, he didn’t want to stay and just watch this sweet bubble you two were in shatter. in both ways, he had to leave you. he had to somehow make this less painful, to make it easier for you to move on.

god, he was an asshole. he knew he was. he spent the week just distancing himself from you, responding to your words with nods and grunts while barely reciprocating to your affectionate touches. his heart was breaking more and more everyday, noticing the pained look in your eyes.

he couldn’t keep doing this for much longer. eventually, he had to end this, and he did.

“we can’t be together.”

his words hit you like a brick. literally on a random friday evening. not so random now, it seemed.

“what do you mean, si…?” your voice got quieter with each word, uncertainty towards your own state of mind flooding inside you while a lump formed in your throat, restraining you from properly even speaking out. your eyes stared at him in pure confusion and heart, noticing how he was cladded in his uniform, how he wore that damn skull mask balaclava — building up those walls again that you had managed to break so easily with your love.

simon hated this. he didn’t want to see you so confused and defeated. he had to stop himself mentally from doing something irrational. he was doing this for you, for your own good. though hearing you call him ‘si’ seemed to somewhat crack his composure.

“look, we can’t be together. s’too dangerous. too risky for you. you never know when i might die.” soon, but he held himself from saying that. you didn’t need to know about his deployment, not at all.

“w-why so sudden?” your voice cracked as you tried to properly make sense of his words, emotions taking off your being while you tried to hold in the tears that had begun to sting your eyes.

too dangerous, too risky — maybe somewhere in your heart, you had known that a day like this would come. simon riley was too careful about safety, too dedicated to his work while simultaneously being madly in love. suddenly, all of his sudden distant behavior made sense, and you felt somewhat stupid. stupid for, well, everything.

he was the plague that had infected you, and now he needed to leave so you could heal.

but you never thought of him like that. he was your rock, the anchor that held you from slipping away into loneliness that had always somehow stuck with you throughout your life, a sting that only simon could soothe. it was simon who would craddle you in his arks every night, it was simon who would listen to your rambles. it was simon who your heart was so willing to give love to.

and now he was going to leave.

simon had expected you to scream, to somehow target your anger and frustrations at him. he wanted you to yell at him, he deserved it.

but you didn’t. you sniffled, beads of tears beginning to roll down your cheeks as you took a wobbly step back, too exhausted to fight back or anything.

you didn’t blame simon. how could you? even now, you couldn’t find a flaw in him. too in love? maybe.

as silence filled the living room of the apartment you used to share with him, he slowly picked up his duffel bag and sighed, trying to keep his brown eyes cold and unfeeling, to make it look like he didn’t feel remorseful, to hide his heart was threatening to tear out of his own skin.

“i’ll always love you, simon…”

you said after a few seconds, causing his head to turn over to look back at you — your eyes teary and puffy while your cheeks were streaked with tears, his hands aching to wipe them away. your voice was weak, reluctantly defeated. you know that there was no point in stopping him.

i’ll always love you too, he mentally thought, though never said.

"one final kiss...?" simon froze at your request, knowing that if he were to look at your face any longer, he'd actually stay. he sighed and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling away, brown eyes hardening up.

he gave you a final nod and exited the apartment from the front door, leaving you alone all over again, your heart torn in pieces as you fell down on your knees, shattering into pieces that no one was going to bother picking up now. only simon could, but he was gone.

simon riley had died three months after that, and you never found out. for you, ge had just disappeared, leaving no traces behind.

just a memory that you were afraid you’d forget eventually, forget his touch and his voice, forget his face — just a memory that was going to bury itself no matter how hard you may try.

#i don't know what i am doing #literally writing everything EXCEPT the simon oneshot i am actually supposed to be writing #evilly ruins simon's life.#teared up while writing this #WHO GETS THE REFERENCE HERE !!#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic

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