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pancake-stray-doggo · 5 months

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Flustered and Shy and Blushing!Simon "Ghost" Riley is great and wonderful but what about Angry and Frustrated and Overwhelmed!Simon "Ghost" Riley when it comes to compliments and showers of affection. Under the cut because it completely got away from me!!

What about Simon who can't fathom or accept that someone would a) love him and b) verbally express that. He can more easily deal with their soft, adoring looks because he's always communicated better with his eyes when they're not hardened and cold in front of the enemy and his own battered mind, but words? What the hell!!!

The mask is the only reason he can accept the loving looks, mind you, because he's hiding so it's easy. If you give him soft eyes and smiles full of adoration when his face is bare he'll get a bit flustered (stoically) but it's something he's sort of prepared himself for kind of because he's got his face bare in front of you and that means he trusts you enough to weather the uncomfortable Positive Emotions that he's not used to.

But words? The mask can help, well, mask his face, but if it's off? If you dare to ambush him with loving, affectionate words he won't be able to compute. Because how dare you wait for him to show his face only to throw these strange lies at him.

It's the truth, you say? Well shit how is he supposed to know that? But mostly, it's because he doesn't know that he can reciprocate these words. He certainly feels that way. And in his mind he could wax poetic about you all damn day because he's accepted his fate of loving you to the best of his ability, but the words just physically cannot come out and it pains him.

Actions often speak louder than words but even Simon knows words are still necessary here and there, still important. Because he feels that way in practice, whenever you show him you love him it's great but when you tell him it's just as affirming if not more because damn it it's important to hear it.

And he hates that the most he can do is glare at you with glassy eyes and squish your face in his giant strong hands like he's got a grudge against you. Because all else he can do is soundlessly flap his mouth like a fish.

And that's not even touching upon the insecurities aspect. What if you find someone who can say the things you deserve to hear in a less degrading tone and also outside the bedroom? Someone who can look you in the eye and speak their love and affection confidently? What if when he gets home from deployment he doesn't find you there because of that reason? Sure, it will be a relief, to know you're okay and safe and away from the stressful lifestyle he lives but. He loves you.

So he takes to writing first. Doesn't show you any of it, usually does it in the time he's supposed to be filling out paperwork or when you're asleep and he's not. It... It feels good. A little cathartic even. Because it shows to him that he can express these very real feelings and he's not that broken. Or maybe he is, but he can still get it out of his system.

And it also helps him become less agitated whenever you shower him with love and compliments he doubts are true (but never doubts you. Or tries not to, because he respects you.) and he can tell it makes you happy because it's progress. You were worried he might be genuinely uncomfortable at first until he'd grumpily shoved his face into your neck to hide his flaming face and you'd realized that he's not angry just... Unable to cope.

So now you're proud of him but not in a condescending fashion or anything and honestly, Simon's a little proud of himself too but he won't ever admit it.

But then the scattered notes of his love for you aren't enough and the frustration creeps back in and makes his eyes sad, which makes you think he needs more and while he's grateful and secretly preening under your affections (which also counts as big progress because he might actually start believing you!), he still can't return them verbally like he wants to.

So he writes down the things he loves about you and eventually it evolves into love letters that lack the apparent frustration and the killer glares of his face whenever he tries to reciprocate.

He realizes he can give those to you and that can be a start because he does want to actually verbalize those three words. But the letter has got to be perfect. And then there's the issue of good timing. And the dilemma of "should I just leave it for them to find when I'm gone next time or do I want to see their reaction?" And of course he wants to see your reaction but can he take it?

So he agonizes for a week over this letter, making sure his handwriting is all pretty and legible and triple checking the simplest words for spelling because fuck knows with his luck he'd misspell 'the' and once it's done and he's not cringing too hard rereading it, he bides his time.

It doesn't go as planned of course. He gets a call the evening he decided to give it to you so now it doesn't feel right. You give him a little smile because you know he'll have to go soon- the kind of smile that reaches your eyes but isn't as bright because of course you're worried, but you don't want your lovely Simon to feel guilty for doing his job that you knew about before deciding to date him.

Maybe you find the note on accident but I really want Simon to go through the wonderful anxiety of watching your face go through a million emotions while reading it in front of him so we'll go with that.

He really didn't want to make it a big thing but he has no other choice and he needs to give it to you before he leaves for his own sake (and safety because it's a miracle he's not distracted by thoughts of you in the field already, knowing he'll have to try and give you the note again would absolutely get him hurt or worse).

You don't make it a big thing and he's so relieved and grateful because he really doesn't have the capacity for that. It's as precious and fluffy (and emotional!) as you imagine and when Simon leaves, he does so with a new lightness in his chest that makes a smile spread behind his mask.

When he gets back after that he finds it's easier still to take your barrage of love and affection (which, mind you, has always been gentle because you never want to overwhelm him too bad) and that night he manages, without realizing at first, to softly say he loves you into your forehead and after that it gets easier but he never quite makes it past softly speaking it when it's dark out or really early sunlight. Always spoken against your skin or lips because that's all he can do for now without exploding from overwhelm. It's a good kind of overwhelm, but overwhelm nonetheless.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #can also apply to ghost x soap #with more drama and some other differences

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catharsisfire · 2 years

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caught in the spider’s web (m.) 18+

Simon “Ghost Riley x Reader

“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice.

Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, inappropriate relations with your superior, orgasm denial, degradation, teasing/taunting, Ghost being kinda mean, also slight!Soap x Reader (just some flirting tho)

Word Count: 5004

A/N: i’m down absolutely bad for this man, so down bad i cant stand up, also thinking of making a pt. 2 and maybe a Soap version tbh so lemme know if you’re interested in that!

Inspo taken from this tiktok audio by dxcrxpit

Gif is not mine

She’s got to blame someone for this; Graves will take the fall for now, until she finds the Shadow that shot her in the thigh and she’ll personally take the fall for being stupid and diving off the road onto a muddy cliff, tumbling the entire way down. Ungracefully, one may add. It’s unfortunate, truly, the turn of events that have now left her alone and in the pouring rain, leaking blood onto the pavement, but life is nothing if not one shitty plot twist after another.

The comms had been radio silent since she fell, with no one calling or checking in, no sign of Ghost or Soap anywhere, so she finds an empty alley, mind set on damage control. It’s nothing to reach behind her and grab the back of her balaclava and pull it over her head, but it’s the feeling of the wet fabric sliding and sticking to her face as she pulls it off that makes her grimace. “Gross,” she mutters lowly with her hands wrapped tightly around the fabric, wringing out her sweat and the rain. Her back braces on the stone wall behind her and she slides down slowly until she’s sitting on the cobblestone road. [Y/n] lets out a shaky exhale as she reaches her hands down and begins to undo her belt, sliding it off in a quick jerking motion and then proceeds to fold her balaclava into a makeshift bandage before laying it over the wound on the outside of her left thigh. The belt is then used to tighten the balaclava down, applying pressure to keep bleeding to a minimum while she finds her way out of this shit fest. It takes her a second of sitting and fidgeting with the tightness of the belt before she decides to slink her way back up the wall again to stand.

“Alright,” She breathes heavily, talking to no one but herself, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She laughs lightly under her breath and her hand makes its way to where her sidearm had been just moments before her tumble, only to find it gone. “Fuck me,” she whines, head falling back onto the stone wall behind her dejectedly, “hard way it is then.”

[Y/n] makes quick work of pushing off the wall and beginning to limp slightly farther down the alleyway, clicking through the channels on her comms as she goes, until Ghost’s voice pierces through her ears causing her to stop.

“Soap- This is Ghost. How copy?” There’s a moment of silence that registers for a second too long and she feels her blood run cold when there’s no response. “Johnny…?” No response. “Johnny… How copy?”

“Solid.” Soap’s response comes quickly and she lets out a relieved exhale. [Y/n] is quick to glance around, trying to find the easiest way down and out and she thinks for a second too long before throwing caution to the wind and her legs move into a slight skip before picking up into a run into a shop across the road.

“You injured?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Life or death. Keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Spider. How copy?” She hears him, vividly so, but her mind is too sidetracked to reply. To focused on finding a way out whilst sneaking up to the Shadow in front of her. She quickly grabs onto the knife that's strapped and sheathed to her lower back and imbeds it into the juncture of the Shadow’s neck, twisting and pulling harshly to retrieve it from his skin as she moves to lay the body to the ground silently.

“Kid,” His voice more demanding now, “how copy?”

“Alive.” She pants evenly through the receiver.

“Thought we lost you there, kid.”

“Never. I’m gonna live forever L.T, remember?” She laughs breathily.

Sometimes she catches Price staring at them with some far off solemn look in his eyes. A certain softness laced with ‘what if’ that you could only catch if you were genuinely looking for it and it startles her every time, making her feel a bit guilty that he cares so much for them. Guilty to know that if one of them died he’d be heartbroken.

“Stop staring at us like that.” She lowly speaks to him, her words taking on a teasing edge as she stares at the Captain.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re terminal cancer patients.”

“I do no-“

“I’m gonna live forever, Captain.” She interrupts so matter-of-factly before lifting her left hand and jamming her thumb in the direction of Ghost to her left, “And you can’t kill a Ghost.” Her thumb falls only for her index finger to point over at Soap who’s sitting on her right side, “And Soap,” she begins, “well Soap can’t die because we fuckin’ told him not to.”

“Copy that, Sergeant.” Price responds with a tilt at the edge of his mouth. Almost a smile, she notes.

Ghost peers down at her from where he’s seated next to her and she looks up at him with a smile present in her eyes and nods once in his direction in confirmation. Her black balaclava does nothing to hide her emotions, not when they’re always written right there in her eyes, and he vaguely wonders if she wears it because her face is more of an open book than her eyes appear to be. Yet it’s a thought he buries deep when she winks up at him, her eyes still dancing with humor and he’s turning away, not wanting to be drawn in by her gaze.

“Where are you?”

“There's a church. I’m heading to it. Let’s RV there.” Ghost declares. “You’ll need to improvise to survive.”

“Oh, joy.” comes Spider’s quick retort. She makes hasty work of digging through the dead Shadow’s pockets, taking his knives and his gun before taking a quick once-over glance over him. An idea toys in her mind for a second and she reaches forwards, unclipping the helmet on his head equipped with night vision and immediately puts it on her own and clipping it down, adjusting the strap to fit. The rifle she picked up is then slung over her chest and it rests heavily on her back on top of her armor and she begins her journey away, crouching low and moving to the next building.

“Welcome to guerilla warfare.”

Ghost and Soap continue talking, but [Y/n] had taken to tuning them out, too concentrated on taking down the Shadow’s in her path. One after another they each fell easily from the blades she kept stealing off of their associates corpses and her hands made quick work of ripping the ammo clips from their pockets and depositing them in her own on her vest. It was messy work and the realization that it was no longer sweat and rain wetting her face, but blood as well, did not go unnoticed by her. Her arm was quick to reach up every so often in an attempt to clear her face but it felt only as if it just smeared everything on her face, making a bigger mess.

“Gimme a sit-rep.” Ghost’s request digs her from her concentration, her decision making stopping momentarily and she goes to reply first but Soap beats her to it.

“Outside… Gated alley.”

“Kid, sit-rep?”

“Outside… Alleyway with a few dead Shadow’s.”

“Your handiwork?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Atta girl.” Ghost's quick reply is all she hears and [Y/n] feels her face heat from the praise.

“What can I say? I live to please.” And then she's back to radio silence, she wants nothing more than to get the upper hand here, but she still feels like she’s failing at it. Moving on the ground amongst the Shadow’s hoping to not stumble across one didn't feel right to her, didn’t feel smart. She was a sniper. She yearns for the high ground and distance and she’s been robbed of the one thing she feels like gives her the tactical advantage, so her brain is working overtime to fix it. It’s a mumbled ‘fuck-it’, that has her chancing it and she decides to take to the rooftops. It’s not without difficulty, climbing up to get to the roofs, but the real bitch comes when she has to make the jump from building to building. Each impact making her wince and gnaw at her lip to stop her from groaning at the pain in her leg. But she feels better from here, being able to survey the land and pick the Shadows off from above, thanks to a silencer she klepted off one of them.

“You’re gonna owe me for this.” Came Soap’s voice from the comms but Spider takes note that it echoes, if only slightly and her mind begins turning. No, not an echo. He’s nearby, close enough for her to hear with her ears and the comms piece.

“Why?”

“We’re fixing each other’s problems.”

“What’s my problem?”

“The mask… Take it off…”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.” Smug bastard. He’s smirking, she just knows it.

“What about you, Spider?” Soap questions, shifting the conversation to include her.

“What makes you think you deserve to see me, Johnny?” She teases back in response, prompting Soap to huff back a simple, “Cold.” into the comms.

“Tell you what,” she propositions, “come find me and I’ll show you anything you want.”

“Both of you, get to the church. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” They both echoed.

It’s not hard for her eyes to catch Soap’s movement, pinning him in her gaze as he maneuvers the alley to her left. Her eyes leave his form as they glance forward to the Shadows ahead of him and she makes the decision to take them out for him. Opting that this was the way to gain a favor for him, having not forgotten how he constantly volunteers her for first watch whenever he can. His reaction is immediate, dropping behind cover and glancing back when he hears the heavy thud of the Shadows bodies hit the ground and he’s looking around to try and find where the shots had come from.

“Who the hell was that?” Soap’s distressed voice rings through the comms.

“It was your guardian angel.”

“Spider? Are you on the roof?”

“Affirmative.” Was Spider’s quick reply, “I’m coming down… Wait for me?”

“Yeah.”

“By the way,” her voice cracks vividly through the receiver, “you get first watch next time Soap. Consider it my payment for saving your life.”

“Spider, you’ve got first watch.” Soap shouts across the room to where [Y/n] is sitting, propped up against a wall with her eyes closed.

“What?” Her eyes fly open in surprise at his statement, “No, I had first watch last time. Switch with me.”

“No.” He tries to sound stern but laughter seeps through the word as he watches her throw her head back into the wall with a thunk and groan lowly at his lack of negotiation with her. After only a few seconds she sighs deeply before lifting her head from the wall and locking eyes with Ghost.

“Switch with me, Ghost.” She whines back exasperated.

“No.” It’s short and curt and she doesn’t let his vague hostility deter her. She wants second watch at least, because right now her eyes feel like someone put sand in them with how horribly tired they feel, with how heavy she is with want for sleep.

“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice, which is almost completely drowned out by Soap’s loud and shocked, “What!?” from across the room. But [Y/n] watches Ghost’s eyes closely, noting the change that happens within them. His normally cold eyes had taken on a flicker of heat and the burn of his gaze in that moment made her skin itch with want. It had been a joke, a joke with a bit of truth behind it, yet a joke nonetheless, but the fact that he almost seems to consider her offer makes the hair on the back of her stand up and her mouth parched. Price’s cough of disapproval rips through the air, but [Y/n] decides to dig herself in further.

“I’m kidding…” Her easy, nonchalant laughter bounces off the walls of the small room, “Unless… unless you actually will trade with me then maybe we can work something out?” Her voice trails off taking on a slightly higher tone as she shrugs her shoulders and gestures her hands between the two of them vaguely.

“No one is trading sexual favors for watch times.” Interrupts Price’s loud voice, hellbent on stomping out whatever the hell this is that’s going on right now.

“What?” She questions, mildly defensive with an all too innocent tone, “I don’t have anything else to really offer right now. Unless you want my knife,” She adds, shifting her gaze from Price’s scolding and directing the offer solely back to Ghost with a hopeful tone, “Then I’ll give you my knife for second watch.” Her eyebrows raise up beneath her mask and her head tilts slightly forward into Ghost’s direction as if to imply that the deal was getting better.

“No.” Price answers in Ghost’s stead, although the fire behind Ghost’s eyes still does not quell as he continues to stare at her motionless. [Y/n] releases an empty sigh, sliding her eyes closed and throwing her head back into the wall.

“Fuck!” She exclaims roughly in defeat, “Fine.” And Spider picks herself up off of the floor and her hands move to grab the sniper rifle propped against the wall next to where she’d just been sitting. “If any of you need me I’ll be on the roof.” She groans out as she makes her way to the stairs, only stopping to call over her shoulder, “Try not to need me.”

‘Try not to need me.’ It rattles around the empty air downstairs after she’s gone until it sticks in Ghost’s mind. ‘Try not to need me.’ Too late.

It’s well into over an hour of her watch shift when she feels the hair on the back of her neck standing up in defense, when she feels like she's not alone anymore. So she turns her head from where she had been laying prone with her rifle watching the streets below between two cinder block openings on the edge of the roof, just in time to catch sight of Ghost making his way over to where she was, sitting next to her with his back to the cinderblock wall.

“You should be sleeping.” Spider mumbled out to him.

“You should be paying attention.” He motions his head slightly to the roads behind him in direction. He catches the way her eyes roll and he can tell she makes a face beneath her balaclava by the way the skin on the bridge of her nose crinkles up slightly.

“Really useful advice L.T,” She mumbles out deadpanned, he can hear the exhaustion clear in her voice, “you ever thought about writing self help books?”

He only hums absentmindedly in response and an empty silence fills the air between them for only a few seconds before he adds in, “You look tired.”

“Be still my foolish heart,” Spider remarks sarcastically, releasing her hand on her gun and grabbing at the center of her chest, “Ghost, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you just invited me to bed.”

“Obviously you know better.”

Spider hums limpidly in response.

“Go get some sleep. I’ve got the rest of your watch.”

Her head shakes and a simple reply of “no”, is immediately followed by a yawn and she turns her head over to look into Ghost’s eyes again to scold him limply. “Stop talking about sleep, you're making me yawn.”

“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep on watch. A punishable offense if you do.”

“Maybe I wanna be punished,” Spider teases in a tired voice, “help keeps the brain awake.”

“Can’t punish you if you’re dead from falling asleep on watch.”

“Sounds like you have to be proactive, L.T. Punish me in advance.” The fire is back in his eyes and [Y/n] realizes how deep she’s dug herself in this time, and so she does the only thing she can do. Dig deeper. “Are you going to punish me, sir?”

“It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it.”

“A morale booster, then?” She offers instead, “Promoting healthy team relations and engaging in bonding activities with your soldiers can have a positive influence on their morale and mission performance.”

“You think wanting to fuck your superior is healthy?”

“No. I think of it as an investment in the betterment of the team, Lieutenant. I stay awake and they stay alive. A win in my books, if you ask me.”

“Yet I didn’t ask.”

“No sir, you didn’t.” [Y/n] takes her time sitting up onto her knees from the position where she lay and moves over easily to sit next to Ghost, back pressed into the cinderblock wall. She reaches over him, torso pressing dangerously into his thighs as she grabs her bag and begins to riffle through it with a leisurely pace, before drawing out her heartbeat sensor. Within a second she is sitting back upright, hands moving to grasp firmly around the device before powering it on and placing it where she had just been laying watching the streets. She peers back up at him, something burning deeply behind her gaze. The smile normally dancing around in her eyes now gone completely, replaced by something altogether darker, and her voice is serious when she tells him, “But all you have to do is say the word.”

“Fucking hell. You’re a minx, you know that.”

“One of my finer qualities, I believe.” She whispers out breathily. [Y/n] makes slow work of invading his space, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart and throwing her leg across his lap, straddling him. Yet she doesn’t lower herself down, opting instead to reach up and release the latches holding on her body armor effectively slipping it off and dropping it to the side.

“Now, what are you going to do if you get shot at?” His question is fair, but it’s simply meant to tease her so she takes the bait.

“Pray they’ve got bad aim.” She states to him as she sits herself down onto his lap.

“And if they don’t?” He presses further into the hypothetical and his hands move from his sides to rest on the outside of her thighs in a teasingly light grip.

“Then I hope you take mercy on me and save my life.”

“I’m not a merciful man.” He states matter-of-factly, hands working up from their spot on her thighs to start moving up to her belt, where they make slow work of undoing the buckle there. Her exhale is shaky at the motion and she breaks eye contact to glance down as his hands work at their agonizing pace. Taking his time as if he had nothing better to do than make her wait for him.

“Then I hope you’ll make my last moments worthwhile.”

“Hmm,” He ponders curiously, fingers popping the button of her pants open, “do you really deserve that?”

“I’m hoping to win your favor.” She mutters back hopefully as Ghost leisurely pulls down her zipper.

“How do you plan to do that?” Ghost questions her evenly, not a single emotion betraying his voice.

“My dazzling wit and charm?” She’s ready to burst, almost shaking with anticipation as she watches him remove his glove to trace the skin above the edge of her panties.

“Hmm… Try something else.” He remarks mockingly.

“I’m useful.” She declares in a whine, hands reaching forward to braces on his shoulders as her eyes close with frustration.

“How so?”

The air is silent for a second too long and when he feels as though she has no intention of answering back he captures the elastic band of her panties and lets it snap back harshly against her skin. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m… I’m good with a rifle.” She stutters out quickly, “One of the best.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m light on my feet, quick,” She’s trying to think, her mind reeling trying to remember notable attributes of herself but her brain short circuits and she begins tripping on her words the moment he slips his hand into her pants, cupping her heat through her panties. “I-i can get in and out of places without detection.”

“Keep going.” He presses her, hand moving to pull her panties to the side so his finger can run through her slit, collecting the wetness there.

“I’m good under pressure. Rational.”

“Is that right?” He seems to contemplate her statement, weighing the validity of it given the current circumstances as his finger begins to circle roughly on her clit. Her response is almost immediate, choking out a sobbed “yes” as her breath quickens.

“Go on then.” He continued plainly, his voice just as even and level as it always was, even as he slips his finger from her clit down to her entrance and plunges into her.

“I’m…” And she has to stop to take a stuttering, stabling breath before lifting her head up from where it watches his hand work into her so that she can lay her forehead on his and stare into his eyes. “I’m damn good at my job,” her left hand moves from his shoulder to fist into the mask at the back of his neck for support, “you know it's true.”

“My intelligence.” She yelps out before he can even tell her to say another thing.

“What about it?”

“I’m. Very. Fucking. Intelligent.” [Y/n] enunciates between panting moans and gritted teeth, “One… one reason Price wanted me in 141.” Her chest is heaving as she shakes her head lightly to clear her thoughts, a poor attempt to get a cohesive string put together. “He found me as a Private. Fuck me,” She whines, “I was exemplary. The goddamn best at everything. I won him over.”

“How’d you manage that? Your dazzling wit and charm?” Ghost teases her with her own words as his thumb moves to rub at her clit in time with his hands sliding in and out within her. [Y/n]’s eyes flutter for a second at the added pleasure and her hand clenched tighter on his neck, twisting the mask fabric in her grip as she leans forward further into him, pressing her hips down to seek his hands movement. Their noses are touching now, barely any space between their mouths as they share each other's breath.

“The spider spins her web to catch what she wants.” She mumbles out through a shaky keen. “I’m soo useful Lieutenant. M-more useful than you could ever know.” Her eyes looked pleadingly into his as her hips moved in time with his hand, “Please don't stop.”

“You get off on praising yourself, Sergeant?” His voice is so goddamn taunting and the slight shame of it burns her face. There’s no other sounds in the air outside except their back and forth, and the sound of his hand moving within her and the slick wet sound of it has her mind reeling with longing and want.

“You’re m-making me.” [Y/n] counters back, “I’m doing what I’m told.” Ghost makes a noise in acknowledgment to her statement before adding a second finger in, working faster as she begins to drip down his hand.

“Then we’ll add that to the list. The good girl can do as she’s told.” His words of praise are met with her clenching down tightly on his fingers.

He’s startled when he feels the cool, trembling grip of her hand grasping desperately into the bare skin of his wrist beneath his sleeve. There’s something exhilarating about the feeling of her skin on his in this desperate attempt to ground herself to him, with him, when they’re both so covered. And God it feels like fire, feels like every nerve in his body has just been sent into overdrive because all he feels is the cool skin of her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist as her nails dig in sharp and the wet heat of her cunt dripping down his hand.

“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything you wanted, Ghost.” She rasped back in confirmation, throwing her head back.

Ghost’s free hand shoots up from where it had been holding tightly to her thigh, capturing her chin in a bruising grasp and pulling her head down roughly until her forehead rests back on his. Holding her there until they’ve returned to sharing breath and air and there's almost no space between them, before continuing its journey downwards to her neck. Her eyesight falters then and her eyes slide shut when he squeezes at her neck just right and she preens at the motion.

“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” He demands and he squeezes her throat slightly harder at the command and her eyes slide open, teary and tired. “Atta girl.” And she can’t help but whimper lowly at the praise, panting heavily and tightening her hands grip on the wrist working between her legs. “See, that's not so hard, now is it?” He taunts lowly.

“No sir.” Her head is dizzy and her eyes are swimming with tears and pleasure each time he squeezes his hand around her throat, throwing her that much closer to the edge. [Y/n] can't help the choked, “oh God” she releases when his hands decided to speed up, the movement of her hips failing to keep up with his ministrations. The arch of her back makes quick work of closing the space between their bodies as she gets closer and closer, and her hand leaves his wrist in favor of bracing her forearm onto his shoulder for added support.

“You close?” Ghost asks, and had [Y/n] been in her right mind she would have noticed the glint of something devious slide though his gaze, but instead she just nods back with a tender “please” in response too focused on chasing her budding release. Ghost’s hand doesn’t relent in its hurried pace fucking into her, but he seems as if he’s waiting for something. Holding out on something until the last second and as she begins to spasm around his finger he seems to find exactly what he was looking for, exactly what he’s been waiting for.

His hand leaves from within her and off her neck in an instant and before she can register what's happened she hears her zipper being slid back up. It sends a panic straight through her when the thrumming of her body catches up to her brain and she realizes that she’s been left high and dry. He didn’t let her finish.

“Wh-what? Why?” [Y/n] wants to cry and for a second she’s very close to it. She wants to scream at the fizzling out of her high, shaking from denial she looks down just in time to catch Ghost’s hands thread her button back closed and slip her belt through the buckle tightening it. She lifts her eyes up for a second searching desperately for his and she sees a smug laughter swimming behind them before she draws her line of sight back to his hands. Hoping that if she stares at them long enough she can will them back to work, back to finishing her.

“You should go get some sleep.” He declares, adding a firm slap to her ass before holding onto it, and he sounds like he’s genuinely on the verge of laughter, like this was some kind of game he’s playing with her that he’s enjoying just a bit more than she is.

“But-but I didn’t…” And she stutters over her words, unable to form anything reasonable in her denial.

Her hand tries to reach down to where Ghost’s had just left, anticipation and her denied release eating at her bones telling her to finish the job, only to get intercepted before she can complete her goal. Ghost’s hand grips at her wrist tightly, bringing it up to rest in the air between their chests. At the same time his other hand rushes up to grasp harshly at her chin bringing her face up in front of his and he slowly peels his eyes away from her hand after a second to look into her own. The heat in them is different now, taking on a chilling burn that leaves her frozen on the spot beneath his gaze.

“What makes you think you deserve it? This is a punishment, remember? That is what you wanted. What you asked for.”

“Please… ” It’s a pathetic whine, one that he laughs at and her face burns dangerously beneath the fabric on her face.

“Go get some sleep.” Ghost orders again.

“I-i don’t think I can anymore.”

“You will. Consider it a test of your self control.” And when she makes no effort to move from his lap, he cocks his head to the side slightly, adding a taunting, “That’s an order, Sergeant.”

“Th-this isn't over.” [Y/n] states heatedly behind furrowed brows and heavy pants, “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Doubt that.” He husked evenly behind his mask.

Ghost finds her a few hours later when his watch had ended, next to Soap. Both of them sleeping on their backs with her head laid on his shoulder and his arm loosely wrapped around her neck with a light grip on her shoulder.

“He’s got the kid in a headlock.” Ghost remarks to Price.

“That can’t be comfortable.”

#Ghost x reader smut #Ghost smut #Simon riley x reader smut #Simon Riley smut #Ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #Simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 24 days

Text

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 32] || [Chapter 34]

Pairing: Gaz x gn!Reader || Soap x gn!Reader || Ghost x gn!Reader || Ghost x Price || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8k~ cw: angst. reveal of secrets. (call backs to past chapters) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: sorry, y'all :)

Chapter 33: Do You Think?

"Hold still, Johnny!" You chide as you straddle one of his bulky thighs, while he pulls a face and squirms a bit.

"Nae, bonnie, I don't like that!" He complains, turning his face and pouting in displeasure.

"I don't care, it's good for your skin!" You retort as you lather some more of the face mask onto his face, trying not to get it accidentally over his lips or eyes.

"But the smell-" John continues protesting.

"It's clay!" You reply.

"It's shite, is what it is!" He retorts like a child, causing you to groan and grab him around the jaw, your fingers holding onto his stubble-covered jaw so you can continue.

"Look at Kyle, he's not complaining!" You reply as you point at the other man, who sat perfectly still on the floor, seemingly relaxed, as he leaned his head back on the seats of the couch.

Kyle has a calm smile on his lips and was occasionally taking sips of a fruit cocktail you had bought the ingredients to make through a straw, wearing headphones and vibing to his own music.

"Yeah, well, Garrick's mask is different!" Johnny pouts, but finally sits still long enough to allow you to finish applying the cream to his face.

"Well, yeah, obviously? You have different needs!" You retort as you finish and look at him. "There. Now you don't move and just drink your little cocktail." You point at it.

"Aye, I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope!" You chuckle as you get up, scurrying off to wash your hands in the bathroom sink.

Once you return and take your seat between the two men, Kyle has pulled off his headphones and is chuckling at Johnny's face covered in a grey-ish green toned clay mask, even slathered over the prickly stubble around his jaw.

"Don't bully him." You tell your boyfriend as you reach for your own cocktail glass sipping from it as your own face mask takes effect.

"I'm not. Just think it's funny how he's putting up such a fuss over it." Kyle teases and shakes his head in amusement.

Things at home have been calm and chill... Even after you and Kyle confessed to one another you're in love. Johnny doesn't know about it and, in a way, it feels a bit... weird to not tell him.

But it would also feel weird to tell him, and make a big deal out of it. To possibly risk rushing him into saying it too... just so he doesn't feel left out. You'd hate to do that to him.

You can't help but wonder how Simon himself is going to react when he comes back and hears about Kyle confessing to you.

Simon...

You wonder how he's doing.

You hope he's safe.

"Wha's wrong, lovie?" Kyle's voice draws you out of your thoughts as he leans against you and rests the soft underside of his jaw on your shoulder, avoiding accidentally rubbing off any of his peach-colored face mask on your skin.

"Just... thinking." You murmur, realizing you'd likely been zoning out and staring at nothing, mindlessly biting your straw as it sits between your liips.

"About wha'?"

"Simon... John... Do you think they're okay...?" You trail off, feeling Johnny shift around beside you so he can listen into the conversation as well.

"You shouldn't worry. They're fine, they're the toughest." Johnny replies as he softly rubs your shoulder with one of his calloused hands.

"I know... It just-" You trail off and bite your straw again, resuming the mindless gnawing at it.

"They're the best of the best, lovie, they'll be back in no time, safe and sound." Kyle says reassuringly.

But you've learned to catch when Kyle is lying. And this is one of those times. He doesn't know that they'll be safe, that they'll come back. Nobody knows.

But then, you find yourself sighing and shaking your head, to push away the feelings of worry.

"You know what, you're right. Either way, it's not like they'd let each other get hurt, right?" You muse aloud.

"Of course not, bonnie, they're responsible and make a good team." Johnny quips besides you, Kyle agreeing on your other side and nodding along.

"Oh, I was more so saying that because they're obviously in love with one another." You add before taking a new sip of your drink.

Both set of eyes are suddenly glued to you, eyebrows raised and jaws going slack.

"What did ye say?" Johnny asks you in shock.

Turning to look at Johnny, your brows knit together and your eyes narrow in confusion.

"That... John and Simon love each other?" You reply as you look at them.

"What do you mean?''Kyle is the one to speak this time, while Johnny goes onto being the one stunned into silence.

"What do you mean 'What do I mean'?" You ask them and raise your brows. "I thought it was obvious?"

"No it's not?!" Kyle exclaims.

"You lot work together, what do you mean you've never noticed?!" You ask them in earnest confusion.

"It's Simon, for God's sake, it's not like the man is open!" Johnny retorts.

Turning to face Johnny, you narrow your eyes at him and then tilt your head like a confused dog.

"So you figured out Kyle and Simon were coming to see me, but not that Simon and John seeing each other?" You say in a pointed, accusatory tone.

"Well, to be fair, the Captain's very private." Kyle replies, trying to defend his (and Johnny's) lack of perception.

"No, he's bloody not! He's an open book, you just don't know how to read him!" You retort.

"Either way, what's it matter? Aren't we all together? I mean, you're with Simon. Garrick's with Simon. I'm with Simon..." Johnny trails off.

Shaking your head, you look between them in confusion. "Have you truly never noticed the way he looks at Simon?" You ask them.

Kyle and Johnny look at each other as if you've just told them a riddle they are trying to solve by getting their respective brain powers to work together.

"How does he look at Simon?" Johnny asks after a moment's pause, giving you a confused puppy look.

Pausing for a moment, you seem to mull over the thought. You've seen the way Johnny looks at Simon too. Would it be too much to tell Johnny that Simon's in love with you?

"He looks at Simon the same way Simon looks at me." You reply in a gentler tone, catching the way Johnny's brows rise in surprise, and then he glances at Kyle. So do you.

Kyle's brows are also raised in surprise and he purses his lips, seemingly unsure of what to say. So, you continue.

"John looks at Simon like he personally hung all the stars in the night sky. He always looks to him when everyone's laugh. He kisses Simon's forehead and cheeks a lot, always lays a hand on his shoulder..." You trail off.

"And Simon never shakes him off. Never pulls a face. Never freezes or tries to shy away..." You continue. "If I had to guess, he's loved Simon for a long time... And I think Simon loves him back."

Your eyes going back and forth between Kyle's and Johnny's faces, noting how their respective expressions seem to change ever so slightly to one you can't read.

Simon shimmies into the flat after texting you to let you know he arrived, and getting a reply from Johnny.

As soon as he enters, the door having been open by Kyle, he finds Johnny standing in the living room with crossed arms.

"What?" Simon asks softly, quite aware that you're asleep in your room, too tired to notice Kyle and Johnny currently holding an intervention in the living room.

"When were you going to tell us?" Johnny asks directly.

"Tell you wha?" Simon asks in earnest as he carefully sheds his gear by the front door. "That you and the Captain were involved." Johnny answers, glancing at Kyle who is looking at the scene with wide eyes and doesn't join onto the interrogation.

"Well we're obviously involved?" Simon retorts deadpan, not even glancing at them.

"We mean you and him. Alone. In the past." Johnny retorts.

Simon slowly turns and simply stares at Johnny, silently, before glancing at Kyle, and then glancing at Johnny again. "How do you know?"

"Bonnie noticed it." The Scot replies. "Answer the question."

Simon sighs and turns, setting his hands on the back of the couch. "There's nothing to answer. You already know."

"It's not fair." Johnny says bluntly. "The Captain tore into us for dating them, and for dating each other, only for him to be a hypocrite and do the same?" He complains.

Simon sighs and crosses his arms. "I'm not saying I disagree," He begins. "but it's not like we planned on it." He replies softly.

"How long has this been going on though?"

Simon sighs and shakes his head. "A few years. Since he got divorced."

"Captain Price's been married?!" Kyle finally breaks his silence.

"Wait, you knew he was married back when we got together to create his Tinder profile and didn't tell us anything?" Johnny confronts Simon who sighs again.

"Not my business to share." The Mancunian replies with a shrug. "He didn't want it to be known, I'm not-"

"Just like he didn't want it known that he shags anything that moves?" The Scot announces with a scowl and gestures broadly to all three of them.

"Soap!" Kyle complains and groans softly. "I told you that in confidence!"

"Oh, please, Ghost already knows about it!" Johnny replies, failing to see how Simon's figurative hackles raise at the mention of his moniker, his alter ego, one he wants (and tries) to shed at the door of the flat. "Don't'cha, L.T.?"

Simon simply nods. Then, with another sigh, he looks past them, his eyes locking onto your silhouette at the door, behind Kyle's shoulder. "Sweet'art..." He calls out, finally drawing the lads' attention to you.

With three pairs of eyes on you and rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you murmur a soft little "Why are you all awake? Come to bed..." You beckon and reach a hand forward.

"Sorry, mo leannan," Johnny tells you apologetically. "we're discussing the mission." He lies easily. "We're just going."

"Let's get you bacj in bed, lovie." Kyle assures you as he moves toward you and guides you back to the bedroom, leaving behind Johnny and Simon, but glancing at them one last time.

Now alone in the living room, Simon and Johnny stare at one another. "Were you thinking of telling me?" The Scot asks directly.

Simon sighs and turns his head for a moment and rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't know how to."

"So... the last couple of years, whenever you and I would..." Johnny gestures vaguely.

Simon sighs and looks down with a huff. "Yeh..."

The Scot takes a deep breath. "You know, the Captain being a hypocrite I could forgive. But you..." He trails off, in a disappointed tone, and shakes his head.

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

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@blckbrrybasket , @agoodmoviekiss

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #gaz x reader #ghost x reader

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meatonfork · 2 years

Note

may i request more wholesome task force 141 but like with a gen z reader that’s constantly cracking outta pocket jokes and super self deprecating humor ect. and if not then more grim au would really soothe the soul thank you!!

ps. i love your writing sm you’re doing an amazing job ��

Platonic 141 x Gender Neutral Gen Z Reader

————————————————————————————————————————

ask and you shall receive :)

pairings: platonic 141 x gn!reader

warnings: self deprecating jokes, suicide jokes, reader being out of pocket

summary: just hc's :) this can also be applied to grim, as they are also gen z and self deprecating. so anything you see here, they have probably done

————————————————————————————————————————

you know that meme of ghost staring at you through the rear view mirror? that's exactly how he would look at you when you say one of your suicide jokes.

one time you noticed that price cleaned up his beard and told him he looked slay before walking out of the room.

"gaz." "yes sir?" "what the fuck does 'slay' mean, and why am i slaying?"

whenever you think one of the guys says something cool, or you agree with them, you just say 'real' with a nod of your head.

they just go along with it

constantly calling soap 'bestie'.

"hey, bestie. come here, i have to show you this sick new knife i got." and he will come running over like a puppy being told there's treats.

one time, on a mission, you got punched pretty hard and said something about it hurting less than when your dad hit you.

"how you feelin', kid?" "ah, my dad hit me harder than that guy on the regular. i'll be fine." gaz did not find this funny.

one night, while sitting in the commons room, soap decided to ask you what the stupidest thing you believed as a child was.

"that i would grow up to be happy." "dude, what the fuck."

you had a uti once, and instead of taking care of yourself, you asked price to bring in the firing squad to put you down.

"i don't really think this warrants this reaction." "it absolutely does."

telling gaz you have a mask kink, as a joke.

it wasn't a joke. he didn't know that.

he told ghost.

when ghost faced revealed to the whole team, you let out the deepest sigh of relief

he asked what that was about and you told him you were glad he didn't look like buff colonel sanders because he scares you

letting everyone know that when soap drives you are NOT the passenger princess, but instead a survivor.

calling price "mommy"

he cried the first time you said it

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this! again, this goes hand in hand with grim :)

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milkteahood · 2 months

Text

forgotten

Simon Riley x reader

Summary: mission gone wrong leaves Y/N with amnesia

note: will proofread later. Felt angsty. Not very proud of this one but oh well lol. Do let me know if I should turn it into a mini series

Listening to Simon’s slow breathing was always comforting for you. His arm wrapped around you while you were discussing the mission ahead.

“We should go on a vacation soon”

Simon looked at you, meeting your gaze as you raised your head from his chest.

“And where would you like to go birdie?”

“Somewhere warm!”

“Hm. We’ll see about that” he said before pulling you into another kiss.

***

“I’m almost there sir! I can already see the safe house”

“Wait for us there Y/N. Ghost is the closest to you, he should be there any minute” Price responded.

“Roger that sir!”

“Y/N. Ghost is in close range”

“Y/N. Do you copy?”

“Y/N!”

There was no answer from you. Everyone took turns to try and reach you but it was just radio silence.

If only he was faster. If only he made it to the safe house first, then you would be safe. But he wasn’t. And now his whole body was shaking, the same feeling that rushed through his body when his family was murdered was engulfing him again.

“Ghost! Do you copy?!” Price’s voice was merely white noise.

“Ghost!”

“Yes.” Simon finally answered. Tone cold, devoid of all emotions.

“What is going on Ghost?” this time it was Soap, but there was no answer for him.

As Ghost approached your limp body, he could swear his legs were close to giving out. An ambush, that’s what it was. They wanted to make an example of someone and you were the unfortunate one to be there first.

The dim light in the safe house should’ve already been your red flag. But you were tired, and wanted nothing more but to stop for the night.

The slightly open door caused you to draw your gun out when entering the building. One by one you started to clear out the rooms, looking for any signs of intrusion.

The unfortunate situation was that the ambushers expected you to do all that. And they were also more than you, so when they finally showed themselves, you stood no chance. The knife was in your abdomen before you even knew it.

Everyone was rushing to the safe house. They knew something was deeply wrong and they were already expecting the worst.

“No. No” Simon kept repeating, mind already filled with the images of his dead family. He let himself fall to his knees, too out of it to even touch you. In that moment Simon could swear he was cursed. Everyone he ever loved ended up the same way and now it was your turn. So many years of peeling away layer and layer until Ghost was gone and there was just Simon in front of you. The one person he trusted with his life could just be gone.

Soap is the one that was there second.

“Ghost!” he said rushing through the door “what the fuck is going—“ “oh no. Oh no no”

Simon was frozen in place. He has just been staring at you and the pool of blood your body was in. It was Johnny who knelt down next to your body, checking for a pulse.

“Ghost! Ghost there’s a pulse!” he said while his fingers were on your neck. Johnny quickly put pressure on your wound.

That alone was enough to make Simon snap out of it and pick you up as gently as humanly possible, while Johnny was doing his best to keep applying pressure.

When the others arrived, Ghost was holding you in his arms while Price was barking orders at everyone, trying to make sure you were rushed to a medical facility as soon as possible.

***

3 months have passed since the incident, and you still weren’t waking up. Doctors said it was a miracle you even survived.

Simon on the other hand wasn’t doing so well. Price managing to pull him away from you only for missions. Outside of that, he was like a dog waiting for his owner to come back. Waiting for you to come back.

Until one day, Simon’s head snapped up when you winced in pain. The cold light above you was hurting your eyes. Your head was still spinning, and you couldn’t make sense of what was around you. Grunting, you looked around the room, vision still blurry.

“Y/N!” Simon yelled, standing up from his chair and approaching your hospital bed.

Y/N. You knew that name, it was yours. But who was the man calling it? Your eyes slowly adjusted until you could see him. A hunk of muscles with a creepy mask towering over you.

“Y/N” he repeated himself. Doctors warned him you might wake up disoriented, and not to touch you until you properly wake up. But nothing prepared him for your next words.

“Who… who are you?”

Simon’s eyes widened “it’s me, dove. It’s me, Simon”. His fists clenched so hard one could swear his knuckles would snap.

“Who’s Simon?”

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader

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sirenmoth · 1 year

Text

Breeding Team

Everyone x AFAB!Reader

You can thank @/simonrileyscockring a/b/o orgy asks for this, only fem!reader im doing for the time being, dont try this at home. I regret nothing, haven’t wrote smut in 5 years so this might be bad

CW: DUNCON, no use of y/n, gangbang, unprotected sex (obvi), porn with very little plot- and that plot is also porn, breeding kink/breeding, cum marking, pregnancy mentions, p in v sex, oral (m and f receving and m and f giving), exhibitionism, voyerusim, fingering, choking, anal, anal fisting, dumbification?, double penetration, double penetration in one hole (quadruple penetration? idk how to explain it), massive dubcon, rough sex?, manhandling, abo dynamics, knots, knot fucking, mention of collaring, biting, marking, overstimulation, pussy slapping, squirting, scent marking, degradation, praise, lactation, aftercare, 3 holes and two hands made to service 8 men, i wrote this between 1am-7am, sexulising your military propaganda, the tagging and warnings killed me

AO3 Next

Being the only omega on a team made up of alphas was draining, even more so when you were unmated and unclaimed, you liked it that way, being free and your own person, until Soap came running into the Commons room, waving around your box of prescribed scent suppressants you asked for to hide your omega stance and scent from the team of men you worked with. All turning to look at you with hunger in their eyes, more then ready to eat you whole.

Who knew you’d up here, like this.

Sitting on Ghost and Königs laps, their cocks, questioning whose idea it was for you to take the two biggest men of the whole squad in one hole as the rest watched, watched you get prepared for what was to come as they both had four fingers each moments pire in the same hole their cocks were occupying, stretching for them. “Such a good pet, such a good omega for us.” Ghost whispered as both he and the Austrian man adjusted their positions, both men had their masks pulled up to their noses, leaving only the bottom part exposed, ripping a whine out of you, allowing enough room for Gaz to get behind you with a bottle of lube in hand. Opening it up and applying a generous amount to your back entrance as König and Ghost soothed you, one petting your hair other other muttering sweet nothings of reassurance in your ear “You can take it doll, it’s ok” helping to distract you from the burn as Kyle pushed in two fingers, scissoring you open, pulling moan after moan, soon he added a fourth, the his whole fist, adding more lube before slowly thrusting his fist in an out.

“That’s it Hase, doing so good for us, so pretty like this, spread open and ready for us to use” König muttered into the crook of your neck before biting down, the other masked man following suit, placing his mark on the other side opposite to Königs, soon each memeber of the team placed their mark somewhere on your shoulders or neck saying “You look so pretty claimed, but you’ll look even prettier mated and breed.” as Gaz applied more lube as he entered four more fingers, sending you into an unexpected orgasm.

Clamping down on the two cocks already inside you, Kyle pulled out his fist and fingers just in time before Alejandro lined up his shaft to your freashly prepped hole, slidding in with ease until he bottomed out, snaking his arm around your waist to play with your neglected and overstimulated clit as Price joined in, graciously applying more lube to the already spit-lubed slick hole, groaning out a quiet “fuck” as he entered. Soon enough the Captian gave a quick nod to the rest of the team, the one inside you started moving in an uneven rhythm, never leaving you empty, keeping you stuffed. Graves and Rudy turned your head to the left where they stood, sliding their awaiting cocks into your open mouth as your hands worked up and down on Kyle’s and Johnny’s members, licking and swallowing all eight men’s scent and musk like air. The sound of skin against skin, gags and garbled moans filled the Commons room, the four inside you pushed in their knows, effectively knot fucking your already streached and abused holes, the four above you passed your mouth around like a fleshlight, making you take them right down to their knots.

“Gonnae cum if ye keep this up, bonnie” Soap slurs above you, throwing his head back in bliss as he moves your mouth on his and Gaz’s shafts, your hands occupied by Graves and Rudy’s members, smearing their pre-cum up and down, “C’mon bonita, squeeze tighter, gonna cum all over your face, mark you up” Rudy takes your fist in his hands to make you squeeze tighter as he fucks into it. Your cum-smeared, sweat soaked skin was littered in brusies and hickies, making crude constellations on your skin, your stomach, womb and ass filled with their cum. Bite marks, their bite marks covered your neck, lesser bite marks over the rest of your body, claiming and marking you as their omega, the teams omega. Their bitch. Their free-use cumslut.

“There ya go, luv” Priced murmured into your ear, the prasies dripped from their lips as they filled your holes was like an aphrodisiac drug you never wanted to come down from. Alejandro leaned down, kissing your neck, smiling as he promised to “Keep you stuffed, mi amor, keep you so full of our cum and our cubs you won’t be able to move. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” Your moans was the only consent they needed as they pumped you full of their seed, unable to tell who was where, who was inside you rearranging your organs you whined you a pathetic “please, breed me” as they manhandled you into different positions, using you as a way to get all their pent-up stress and frustration out.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? It was hard to keep track of, some of the team left to go back to their jobs once they were satisfied, coming back in their free time with more stuff to add to the nest, sometimes telling whoever was using you to give it a rest as they feed you and kept you hydrated, “shhh, cariño, you to drink” Rudy pressing a water bottle to your lips as you rest against his chest, holding you in place as Gaz eats your pussy like a man starved, limbs feeling heavy and weightless as you drank the water, wanting to be a good omega.

After Gaz had his fill, König lifts your wek legs over his broad shoulders, putting you in a mating press, effectively pinning you in place with nowhere to run as he bullied his knot into you, keeping eye contact as he rips orgam after orgam out of you, watching your blissed fucked-out expression, once he was done, knot still fully inside you to make sure “it catches”, König moves you legs from his shoulders to his waist, petting your frizzy tangled post sex hair, cooing about how “pretty you look” and “you’ll look like a godess pregnant with my cubs”. Moving a pillow under your head, “Get some sleep, Maus, we are not done with you yet.”

Waking up some time later to light feather kisses on your face. Opening your to notice your being held up by two pairs of strong hands and König was gone, “G’morning, bonnie. Yeh sleep well?” Soap chirps, his accent thick with lust, he pulls you into a heated his as he entered you pussy, the soft blankets and pillows of the nest, as well as the sqauds old clothes they brought, keeping you grounded as the team breeds you over and over, legs unabled to move without support, little did you know that was their intention to make sure by the time their through with you your fully breed with their pups, too swollen and fucked out to move, begging for more, to be fucked full again.

“You can take another, can’t you pet?” Ghost growls behind you, nipping at your ear as he pushes into your abused asshole, “This is where you belong, a good breeding bitch for us to use.” He growls again and begins moving at a faster, brutal pace, Johnny laughs at your whines and moans, moving at the same pace as his superior, the men sharing a kiss over your shoulder as they move, speaking as if you weren’t there,

“Maybe we should get a collar, a pretty collar for our pretty omega.”

“Get the task force’s symbol engraved on it, along with our names.”

“Aye, let everyone know who she belongs tae.”

Ghost moves his hands to your breats, kneading them until milk spills over from the excessive fucking and breeding, “So good, so so good puppy” Soap grumbles before attaching himself to your right nipple, sucking up and drinking as much milk as possible, “Leave some for the cubs, Johnny” Simon hisses out as you clamp down after another soul shattering orgasm, “Cannae help it L.T, just taste so good” both men continue talking as if you weren’t there, weren’t impaled on their cocks and knots, sandwiched in the middle. One of the masked man hand moved towards the base of your neck, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy the other hand moving to your abused nub, pinching and pulling, leaving the occasional SMACK while Soap nursed from your chest.

A lound moan from you brought them out of their conversation, “Ye gonnae cum, hen?”Johnny teased the nipple he was just sucking on, moving to nurse from the other one, a long incoherent whine escaped your lips as Ghost flattened his palm against your mound, both men rutting their knots into you, chasing their high, as Ghost behind you kept slapping your exposed nerve, over and over, getting rougher until it was hard to make a single noise “Soak us, ya can do it, pet, be a good slut and soak us.” you couldn’t tell who was speaking as you were brought closer to the edge.

“Soak” SLAP “Us” another SLAP

until you finally snap, letting out a high pitched squeal as you came, squirting over both men and the nest underneath you, head falling back against Ghosts chest as they kept thrusting into your worn out body “t-too..mu-ch..” was all you could stammer out, unable to take anymore, Johnny kisses the tears away from your eyes telling you “We’re almost done, bonnie” grabbing the fat on your hips as leverage to pound into you, Simon tightens the grip around your neck as they cum inside you, slow thrust to make sure their seed stays in. Smearing what fell out over your body, letting everyone know who you belong to.

Finally it was over.

Each man came and went, cooing and whispering sweet nothings and praises at at you, as they bring food and rearranged the nest so it was more comfortable for their good little omega, rubbing your swollen belly, swollen with their cubs and their cum, Graves helps you into one of his shirts to cover up with, Alejandro and Rudy went to the kitchen to make the squad some food as Price and Ghost went off to find more nest material for their well breed omega, they clean you up with their clothes, keeping their smell on you, laying you down on the nest comfy nest floor. König laid in between you legs, suckling off you clit saying he’s “making sure your all clean” as Gaz and Soap nursed off your chest, now plump with milk “gotta make sure everything works, doll” Kyle smiles, looking up at you with a nipple still in his mouth “Can’t have the litter starving now, can we?” he laughs before taking the bruised nipple back into his mouth.

Laying there, surrounded and covered in you teams musk and smell, their warmth, you finally felt relaxed, nestled in a cocoon of your alphas blankets, pillows and old worn clothes,weakly running your hands through each of the boys’ hair, quietly moaning and whimpering, you accept there no place better then this, accepting you role as the squad’s breeding bitch.

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captainfern · 8 months

Note

Bestie- I know requests are closed and ily and I apologize I'm really just writing this so the idea is in the air and now wasted. But I was wondering if you could do a fic of Price + 141 where reader accidentally used a pheromone perfume.

It WORKS tho, like WORK WORKS. The guys (or just Price ofc) just kinda run on instinct and are super like..RAR SEX ya know??

Also HII IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE REQUESTED!!! My birthday was the 15th, I'm now 20😐 but I also got a car so😋

Anywho glad to be back reading your stuff after I went away for a bit. LOVED the Marigold stories that came out!!!! Love that series sm. Thank you!!

-🌻🐾

aghh this is so late i’m sorry !! but happy late birthday and i hope you had a lovely day <3

here’s a birthday present for you x sorry it’s not a full fic, but i hope you enjoy anyway :)

18+, gn!reader, 141

price

he smells it on you and does a double take like what ?? what is that smell ??

you’re all like “what smell ?? 🙈”

starts rubbing his facial hair against your neck like a cat, trying to collect as much of the smell as possible on him — he’s gripping your hips and pressing you as close to him as he possibly can while he does it

pinching and grabbing at your hips each time you try and put some space between the two of you. he continues to rub his beard against you, it tickling your soft skin

he’s grunting and not really listening to you as you try and speak to him. the only time he responds is when you say that he can fuck you and he goes off !!

ruts into you hard, nosing up and down your neck, kissing along your pulse. he’s got a heavy grip on your hips, no doubt leaving indents, as he thrusts in and out of you

his sounds are deep, like grunts and groans, and he doesn’t talk much, so focused on that yearning feeling clawing inside him each time he inhaled the sweet smell of you

gaz

you physically show him the perfume and show you putting it on, and he’s all like “that will never work it’s fake 🙄”

spoiler alert: it worked

throughout the day, he’s following you around like a lost puppy, trying to put his hands on you any chance he can, even just holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your lower back — you feel so warm against him and you smell so good he can’t help it

if you applied some on your inner wrists, he’ll place gentle kisses there and along your arm, leaving your skin sparkling with tiny patches of saliva

he whines any time you pull your arm away, especially if you’re carrying on with your day at home as usual after putting the perfume on. he’ll whine and try to get your attention without actually trying to get your attention

when you finally give in, he’s eating you out like no tomorrow — you’ve sprayed a bit on your inner thighs, so he’s pressing his cheeks to them as he shoves his tongue inside your hole

is a whiner and whimperer !! so so desperate for more, tasting you on his tongue and smelling your heady scent

soap

he buys the perfume for you 100%

real cocky about it too. he knows it’ll work and he can’t wait to test it out

tries licking it at first, dragging his tongue across your neck or wrists, and you have to fend him off before the cheeky cunt licks it all off of you lmao

if you’ve sprayed some on your pillows/clothes, you’ll come home to find him burying his face in it, probably grinding his hardened cock into the mattress, moaning your name under his breath

he’s obsessed with you, but you can’t blame him, you’re fucking stunning !! he’s so happy just to start humping up against your arse, pressing his cock against you, moaning loudly

fucks you doggy, pounds you straight into the damn mattress with deep, heavy thrusts that have you mewling, his full balls slapping against you

moans loudly, and definitely kisses wet and sloppy along your spine, leaving a trail of spit as he fucks you harder into the bed

ghost

you watch his pupils physically dilate right in front of you as he catches the smell

he straight up starts salivating too

intrigued by the way whatever you’re wearing is effecting his body — drapes his body over yours carefully, whole body weight against you, your back against his front as he casually inhales in deep breaths

very attentive and loving — rubbing the fat of your thighs and arse gently, hands splaying across your tummy, interlocking his fingers with yours, massaging your shoulders and back

keeps his face buried in your neck the whole time basically. if he had been wearing his black paint, it’d be smudged all across your skin

mmm he fucks you nice and slow, and no matter the pigment of your skin he is sucking kisses and dark bruises all over your neck and chest !! his thrusts are almost too slow, but he’s grinding his pelvis against yours and making you tremble beneath him

praises you the whole time, telling you how good you are for him, how much he loves you, how pretty you are, how perfect your body is, how proud he is for you taking all of his cock <3

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #cod smut #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty mw2

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mudisgranapat · 4 months

Text

III. Where the sun doesn't reach

Word count: 3,2 k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader Content: zombie apocalypse, children, enemies to lovers, slow burn

Taglist: @poohkie90 @gaida-511 @synthe4u @beebeechaos Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

Note: Sorry it took so long to update, I'll try to be more consistent. This one was hard to write because there is a lot of information i needed to put out there and i wanted to make sure it made sense. if it doesn't, please let me know so i can explain better on the next chapter. Enjoy :)

There was something alien about seeing life growing in a rotting world. Her soft baby skin was a contrast to everyone around her, who wore their skins dirty, scarred, and calloused. He hadn’t truly noticed the baby at first. He had seen her, because soldiers like him were trained to see everything: a child, around a year old, with dark hair and dark eyes.

As the Humvee hit a bumpy road, he noticed how her curly brown hair was secured in place by two pink elastic bands, the locks on the pigtails moving side to side. She held a pink stuffed dolphin with her chubby hands and swung her feet, making the pink socks go back and forth. She wore a pink jumper that seemed a number too big and was covered in drawings of pink unicorns and rainbow clouds. In Simon’s opinion, it was an obscene amount of pink. He didn’t know if he was more astounded by the combination or by the fact that it had been put together in the middle of an apocalypse.

Her eyes were hazel, and they bore into Simon’s skull with innocence he thought he would never see again. Especially in a vehicle like that, made for war and destruction. They sat on the back of it, on the seats that faced each other, like he used to do when going on missions, and ‘odd’ didn’t even begin to describe seeing Cami there. Cami. It felt weird to know her name when all the other boys didn’t. Like it was their secret to share. As if she could read his mind, Cami giggled, somehow not fazed by his mask. He was used to people cowering in front of him, children hiding behind their mothers and peeking at him from behind their legs. The opposite seemed to apply to the baby in front of him, as she grinned showing her scarce teeth.

“Stop staring at my baby.” He rolls his eyes, redirecting his stare to her with a new layer of hardness. The woman looked like she was in her early twenties, but she spoke with the authority of someone who had lived a dozen lives. Her nose and cheeks were covered in scarce freckles from the sun exposure, and her hair was tied in a ponytail, with loose strands now matted to her face in dried blood. Unlike Cami, she hadn’t escaped the crash unscathed. There was a large gash on her forehead from when she probably hit her face on the steering wheel, now covered in gaze from the medkit. Her lip was split and her nose bleeding. During the crash, the instrument panel from the car had collapsed, causing a gnarly knee injury. “Stop staring at me”. He didn’t. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t mind Ghost. He does that sometimes.” Johnny said in a joking tone, but lightly kicked Simon’s foot, secretly telling him to quit it. “I think it’s about time we do some proper introductions around here, don’t you think?” She gives him a small smile of approval, moving Cami in her arms. “My name is John McTavish, but you can call me Johnny or Soap, since the old man behind the wheel is also John. We usually call him by his last name, Price. Or Captain, but I feel like that won’t be exactly your vibe”

“I’m not old, Johnny.” Price says behind the wheel with a sigh.

“Sure, Grandpa.” Soap retorts, and Price lets another defeated sigh, focusing back on the road. Y/N laughs, and Cami laughs too, even though she has no idea what she is laughing at.

“I’m Kyle Garrick, but you can call me Gaz. We still use our callsigns from when we served together.” He explains, poking his tongue out at Cami and making her laugh even more. This time, she even claps, letting her pink dolphin fall to the floor. She immediately frowns. Not even the car crash had been able to separate her from the toy, her little hands crushing it as she cried in the backseat, and now her face was starting to contort like the crying was going to start again.

Simon reaches out to it at the same time Y/N does, but grabs it first due to his longer arms. “Ghost.” He introduces himself shortly, looking her in the eye. Neither of them breaks eye contact until Cami stretches her hands out towards the toy.

“Dodo!” she screams, shaking a demanding hand in front of Simon. He’s taken aback by the sound of her voice, not expecting her to be able to talk. He hands her the dolphin and she gives him a big smile. He smiles behind the mask in return, a secret infatuation that he buries under the skull. He notices her gaze on him now, studying his reaction, and he has the urge to say ‘Stop staring at me’.

“Kamila is just learning how to talk”. At the mention of her name, she turns her head to Y/N, and shows her the stuffed animal with excitement. Kami wasn’t the only one to hang onto her personal belongings; Y/N had managed to grab a backpack she had taken with her from the house. “She is a bit shy, but once she gets used to you she can be quite the talker, although most of it is in her own language.”

“It’s a beautiful name. Suits her well.” Soap says, smiling at them.

“It’s Arabic, spelled with a K. Means ‘perfect’.” She kisses Kami on her nose. “What about ‘Soap’? What does it mean?”

“Let’s just say I’m pretty good at what I do. Clean with it.” He says with a smug grin on his face. “What about you? Any nicknames?”

“Well, there was a crackhead near my house that used to call me ‘strawberry’, because I liked to wear red lipstick. Until one day I got hit by a bicycle in front of him so he changed it to ‘smoothie’, since ‘I got mushed’.” She says using air quotes.

Soap and Gaz burst out in laughter and Simon snorts, holding in his laugh out of ego. Price is too focused on the radio with Laswell to listen, probably debriefing her about what happened and the new addition to the group. “Peaceful neighborhood, I see”. Gaz tries to recompose, while the Scot is still doubled over, slapping his own knee. “Whereabouts did you live?”

“At that time, Liverpool, but I moved around a lot. My mother was a Journalist.” Her voice sounded distant at the last part. For most people, it was hard to talk about the past. They had lives that were worth living and never thought that they would have to watch it slip through their fingers. In that sense, being a soldier made things easier. They were always ready to pack their lives into one bag, and most of them had made peace with the thought that they might not come home whenever they stepped foot on the tarmac. Others, like Simon, didn’t have a home to come back to and found solace in the nomad nature of the profession. She coughs in an attempt to clear her voice and continues. “I followed in her footsteps, so that’s how I ended up here. I was investigating a corruption scandal in the Government.”

“Always chasing a story. Is that how you got in trouble with the Resistance?” Gaz was good at getting information out of people. Like Price, he had a trusting face and a calming voice that quickly tore down people’s walls.

Although Y/N had been previously reluctant to share information about her past, she knew that she didn’t have a choice now. They had saved her life and jumped into the crossfire to rescue her and Kami. She owed them answers. Taking a deep breath and rearranging Kamila in her arms, she starts talking. “When the first people got infected, I got curious. The story I had been writing had come to a halt after my main source stopped cooperating with the investigation, so I had been looking for a break. The virus seemed unrelated at first, but interesting enough to write a story about. So I started digging and came across some familiar names. The people I had been investigating for corruption had been dislocating funds from the Government for an unsanctioned project on biological weapons.”

The Humvee was quiet, except for the sound of the engine and Y/N’s voice. She looked at Kami again, now fast asleep in her arms. There was a softness in her eyes that Simon yearned for in his darkest thoughts. He dreamed of caring eyes that pulled him out of his nightmares, only to wake up alone, drenched in sweat. During nights like that, he would pour a glass of moonshine and sit on the old kitchen chair in the base. Time would pass as he stared at the glass, each second increasing the burning in his lungs. He ached to scream, to punch, to tackle the thoughts that tormented him and sink a knife in its gut. But he couldn’t, so he would just sit and stare at the alcohol-filled glass, imagining the liquid burning down his throat and numbing the ache in his chest. He would then get up and empty the glass on the sink, because the only thing he could hate more than himself was his father. He relished watching the moonshine go down the drain, a small victory in his demise, a promise that he would never become the man who buries his sorrow with glasses of booze.

“I found a guy willing to talk to me. His name was Eric Rhodes, a brilliant scientist. He had been working on the project but got fired for asking the wrong questions. He thought that the virus he had been working on before he got sacked was the same one that was turning people into… Well, zombies. I guess that’s the technical term for it. At first, I thought it was just some conspiracy theory, you know? The guy gets angry because he got fired and needs to find someone to blame. But then he showed me solid leads, names, and notes he had been able to keep, detailing what he was doing in the lab.”

“Did you believe in him?” Price asks from the front, now engaged in the story. Laswell had the same theory, that the apocalypse was a result of a biological weapon gone wrong, but hadn’t been able to prove it. Not that it would change a thing: they were already doomed, and whoever was to blame was probably dead by now.

“I didn’t, in the beginning. But after he showed me the documents… Yeah, I did. He stopped talking to me after that. I figured he got scared that I was going to rat him out. The virus was spiraling out of control by then, so I decided to reach out to him while the phones still worked.” She pauses, looking at Kami again as if to check that she is still safe in her arms. “His younger brother, Killian, picked up the phone. Told me they had sent someone to kill Eric, burn his house down with all the evidence. He said Eric had told him about me and asked for us to meet. He wanted to know more about the reason his brother was killed.”

“Killian Rhodes. That’s the guy who started the Resistance.” Simon points out in a low voice. He knows his tone is suggestive, that she is way deeper into this than they had previously thought. The silence is palpable in the atmosphere by that point.

“Yes. He did. It wasn’t all bad in the beginning.” Simon scoffs and leans back on his seat. Her voice is more pleading now, trying to resonate with them. “Killian wanted to avenge his brother. I told him about the virus, and how Eric thought it was a biological weapon built by the Government. It was never meant to turn into this, I know it’s not what he wanted.”

“You’re defending him? He tried to kill you. He sent people out to kill you and your kid!” Soap shook his head, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Killian died protecting me and our daughter!” Her eyes were glossy, but she refused to cry. She was determined not to show any weakness. “Don’t you dare try and blame this on him.” Her tone was angry and bitter. It wakes up Kami, and she tries to put her back to sleep, but to no avail.

“Mommy sad?”

“No, mommy is fine, love. Go back to sleep.” But she doesn’t, alarmed now, looking at her mom with worried eyes. Gaz, Soap, and Simon also look at her, surprised by the revelation that Killian Rhodes is Kamila’s father. But she doesn’t give them time to digest the new information. “We made it to the first quarantine zone together, when things started to get bad. Killian had always been good at convincing people, talking about how the government was dirty and that they were better off on their own. With the rations and the way the soldiers were treating people, it didn’t take long before an insurgence was formed. We took them over and that’s when we started the Resistance.”

We. Simon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wanted to laugh and say ‘I told you so’ to Johnny, but the disbelief on the Seargent’s face was satisfying enough for him. If they thought they were helping an innocent girl, they were wrong. They were harboring the founder of the most prominent and deadly rebellion created in the apocalypse. Not that they were sophisticated criminals before, but they had caused enough trouble to get their reputation: either you were with them, or against them. And now they seemed to be more keen on that policy than ever.

Price stops the car, looking at the backseats through the rearview mirror. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Simon recognized that tone, and it meant that whoever it was directed to was in deep shit.

She huffs. “I never asked for you to take me in. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was dragged here.” She gives Simon a pointed look, that aggravates him even more.

“Then leave.” Simon stares her down. “But you won’t, will you? You know you don’t stand a chance against them on your own, so start talking.” His voice is low and threatening. He doesn’t look at Kami when he speaks. He knows his voice would falter.

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head, looking at the ceiling, trying to find shelter from the prying eyes that stare at her. “People started coming in from other quarantine zones, escaping totalitarian groups and ill-intended people. Other communities began to rise, but they weren’t as strong as we were. They wanted to weaken the Resistance so they spread word that Killian’s brother, Eric, was the one that created the virus. It drove him crazy. His brother had died trying to find the truth and now people were blaming him, trying to use his brother to taint his name. We were forced to step down and give up everything we had built. There was too much invested in the Resistance, too many people with too much to lose. Leadership changed, and we had to sit back and watch as what we stood for was deprived of its meaning. We just wanted to help people. We thought we could stop what would come next but we were wrong.”

“You killed people before that.” John said in a stern voice.

“That was different. We didn’t start battles, we were forced into them. You can’t blame us for fighting back. There is no revolution without war.” She shifts Kamila in her arms again. “For fuck’s sake, you were in the army. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Don’t act like you haven’t done worse.” She says the last sentence looking directly at Simon. This time, he looks away. He knows he has done worse, much worse. For some reason, the fact that she would assume that of him hurts.

“You did more than fight back. We’ve heard about what the Resistance has done.” Simon wants to hurt her back, remind her that no one gets to be innocent their whole life.

“That was after Killian and I were forced to step down. We didn’t know what was going on. We thought that the foundation that we had built would be strong enough to last after we were gone, but things changed completely”

“Look, lass. We want to believe you. We really do. But you have to be honest with us.” Sometimes Simon wants to grab Johnny by the shoulders and shake him, so he would stop being so trusting, so willing. But it is also the reason why they became friends in the first place. Soap never judged him, as broken as he was. Whether he was Simon or Ghost, Soap would crack jokes and share a pint, and for that he was grateful.

“When we were forced to leave the leadership, Lawrence took over. He was ruthless and thought that the Resistance should be more than a safe harbor for people. Those are the stories you have heard, of civilians killing each other for no reason. We didn’t know how bad it was for the people outside, how Lawrence had been looking for groups and attacking them, forcing them to join the Resistance or killing them. He had no purpose, no direction, he just wanted power and he kept us blind to it all.”

“I’ve heard of Lawrence. He was killed.” Price’s voice still carries a somber tone.

“I left right after that. He had been talking about how they were finally going to rise to their full potential, about how the Resistance was going to control what was left of the world. He was delusional, talking about how they were going to have enough firepower to kill whoever stood in their way. Killian and I knew we needed to leave by then, that the principles we had stood for were long gone and now the Resistance was just a power-thirsty militia. We only understood how serious things were when the military group arrived. They killed Lawrence and took control of what was left. Killian sacrificed his life so I could run away with Kami.”

“But why are they after you and Kami?” Price pressed further. “Why would a military group want to kill two civilians?”

“Because I’m the only one who knows their identity and their plans. I ran away with documents that could compromise them, photos and names of who operates the Resistance now.” She gestures towards the backpack that she had salvaged from the crash.

“Why would they take over the Resistance but want to hide their identity? That makes no sense” Simon inquires, still skeptical of the story.

“Because they like to operate in the dark. That’s why they call themselves The Shadow Company.”

me writing that plot twist: 🤭😝🤓

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #call of duty #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you

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mistydeyes · 1 year

Text

undercover with undiscovered feelings

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: Your codename is Belladonna and one thing is clear you have a mood more sour than Ghost's. You hated the limelight, the shock and awe of it all, preferring to take your enemies out discreetly and quietly. Suddenly Laswell throws you to the wolves along with Soap, your fake French American fiancé. As if that wasn't bad enough, you have one secret. You're in love with him but you won't let him see past your hard exterior.

pairing: Soap x fem!Reader, sunshine x grumpy trope

warnings: SWEARING, violence, depiction of wounds, feelings being brought to the surface

a/n: thought it was time my scottish boy deserves some love

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Belladonna, the infamous 141's specialist in stealth and toxicology. Price took you on board due to your decorated resume and ability to discreetly take out your target. From day one, a certain mohawk soldier would not let you live down that your code name was also one shared with a porn star. God you hated him. Although maybe not hate, more like "unwillingly attracted to." You were polar opposites. While Johnny always was one for the theatrics, you were not one for shock and awe. You preferred to blend in the crowd, a grey man if you will. But stealth wouldn't help you here as Laswell planned to put you on in the limelight.

God, you should've known that breaking a mirror with your stray bullet would have its consequences. Now, you were sitting in this debrief in a safehouse in Italy wishing you had taken that bullet instead. Your legs bounced with nervousness as Laswell went through the planned covert op.

"I see you looking at me, Bell. I'm sorry but this mission is going to require you to get more intimate and not hide in the shadows," she said as you tried to silence your rapid heartbeat. All eyes were on you as Laswell continued, the mission was a simple one. One team would enter through the vents and gain access to a museum's records, a front for child trafficking. Another team would work undercover and make sure no one noticed the information extraction. What was your role? Oh Laswell made sure to painful describe how you would pose as a wealthy art collector accompanied by your body guard and your fiancé to be. "And who would those be?" you asked, fearing the worst. "Soap will be your dutiful boyfriend of 5 years while Ghost chaperones you through the night." You couldn't believe what you were hearing, out of all people why did they pick the Scottish idiot who you secretly liked. "What about Price and Gaz?" you wondered as Laswell had not reached the end of her debrief. "We'll be doing the hard work, you're just the distraction, Sweetheart," Price said and soon you would realize what he meant as a distraction.

"Stop shaking, Y/N," Price said as Ghost delicately tried a ring on your finger. "First, you all expect me to go undercover. Next, you make me act all cozy with this sweaty idiot. And now, you're having me try on rings to be fake proposed too?" you shouted as Soap held your hand to stabilize it. "Not just any ring, bonnie. A ring hand picked by me with the finest Japanese saltwater pearl and a band of 3 ct of diamonds set in pink gold. Now let me put it on your finger and you can go." You huffed as he and Price examined the fit of the ring, ensuring it was perfect for the planned engagement.

To your dismay, the night had finally arrived. You nervously checked the mirror as your hair lay loose around your shoulders. It was parted to one side, covertly hiding a comm in your left ear. Earlier, the boys had been relentless as you applied your makeup and curled your hair. Soap almost gained a black eye when he joked, "Well, our wee Bell actually cleaned up for once." The mission might end up being the death of you and your heart.

You felt nauseous looking at your self, examining how the dress flowed from one shoulder and ended with a waterfall of restricting pink tulle. The only thing you liked about this dress were the navy blue pearls adorning the layers of fabric, a subtle nod to your code name. "Lass, it's time," you heard Soap knock. You bunched up your skirt as you made your way to answer him. You were thankful Laswell had graciously gifted you with a knife tucked in a garter along with a set of Clostridium botulinum syringes. You opened the door to see him finely dressed in a midnight blue cashmere wool, silk blend suit. You couldn't deny he was handsome. Your pulse quickened as you examined him further, he had been asked to shave his famous mohawk and instead had a simple haircut. To him, you were also a sight to behold. Your cynical demeanor had endeared him, he loved making fun of you until he noticed a slight reaction. But now you looked even more gorgeous, he felt his breath hitch as he saw how the dress fit your curves perfectly and showed off your frame wonderfully. "Soap, let's go," you said breaking the silence and ending his trance. "You look breath-taking, Lass. Couldn't help but stare." You were glad he walked behind you as your face was bright red.

You exited the safe house marveling at the black Aston Martin Laswell had obtained for the op. As you got in the car, you noted Laswell driving along with Ghost in a black suit fixing his cufflinks in the passenger seat. "We're bringing you out of the shadows tonight, Bell" Ghost began, "don't worry we got you covered" he said and flashed his inner coat to show a gun tucked in its lining. Laswell, ever the observer, could feel your nerves. "Bell, there's some tequila in the console for you," she said and you quickly leaned over Soap's lap to grab it. Bless this woman, she knew your favorite. After taking many sips from the bottle, you tried to offer it to Soap but he disgustingly replied, "that shite tastes like dog piss." More for you, you guessed. You nursed the bottle as Laswell drove over the rolling hills of the coast. You tried to calm your nerves reminding yourself this was just another mission, something that you could add to your resume. You kept mentally telling yourself, "keep it professional".

Finally you felt the car come to a stop as Soap lightly tapped your shoulder indicating your arrival. "Let's go, my pearl," he said in a surprisingly convincing American accent. In this narrative, you were from a wealthy Portuguese home while Soap was your new money, New York City-transplant French American. He held out his hand as he helped you out of the vehicle. As you felt the cold coastal chill on your shoulders, you made your way to the entrance.

You made your way to check-in, Ghost silently following behind. You forcefully smiled, introducing yourself as Elaine de Rosales and your date as Renoir Cretin (dumbass in French). The host stifled a laugh at Soap's fake last name and allowed you three to enter.

As you entered the large gallery, you noted some familiar faces from the endless files Laswell had "gifted" you with. "Fucking bastards," you said under you breath and Simon whispered behind you, "that's no language for a lady." He was definitely getting his ass kicked next time you had a training exercise.

When Soap went for your hand, you could feel your heart jump. You should've downed that entire tequila bottle. He held your hand, gracefully leading you around the gallery as you made painful conversation about each piece. You were never one for arts and your horrible comments made that clear. "This looks nice," you said with a questioning tone and you heard Price laugh at your comment. He remarked, "Kid, you're so dry. Just try to act like you don't want to inject yourself with botulism right now." Every one was seriously out to get you today.

"You look more breathtaking than this painting, darling," Soap said aloud as you admired The Birth of Venus. He was laying on this whole couple thing, hard. You hoped he couldn't feel the heat radiating from your face as he planned a soft kiss on the crown of your head. "My love, you're too kind. You're practically carved from marble," you replied back, catching a glimpse of a pink blush on his cheeks.

After you examined yet another painting, Price notified you that they had gained access into the main server room. You gave Soap a subtle set of three taps with your thumb. He knew it was time as he lead you over to the main attraction. You lifted your eyes, gazing upon the large rendition of Eros and Psyche in front of you. Soap let go of your hand as he set himself on one knee.

Weeks before, Soap attempted to relieve your nerves as he described the masterful speech he would deliver to you. There were many revisions as he practiced the fateful moment to you. "You know, Soap, if I were a dumb, I'd say you're in love with me" you joked, "that speech was disgustingly romantic from the likes of you." "Oh fuck off, Bell. The first nice thing you say about me ends with an insult," he shot back. To anyone watching, the tension was clear but you remained your grumpy self, hiding your emotions.

Brought back into the moment, you could hear the crowd hush, eyes focused on you and him. "Elaine, ever since I saw you lost in the streets of Versailles, you have captivated me with your beauty and elegance. Your vast knowledge of art has shown me that there's more to a painting than a canvas with paint. I love you and will forever be there to listen to your musings about Monet and Degas," he began and you waited for the fateful words to fall out of mouth. However, to your surprise he continued, "I have never met anyone who entertained my antics quite like you have. You challenge me constantly with your fiery words and quips. This little dance of ours makes me a more humble, more loving man. Looking at you tonight, I realize that you are the woman who inspires me to surmount all obstacles. Will you make make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?" You were shocked, that was definitely not part of the script. Your face flushed at his kind words and he looked deep into your eyes.

"Oh yes, Renoir!" you whispered as tears fell from your eyes. He triumphantly picked you up, spinning you in his arms. He set you down and held your chin gently in his hand. He raised your face to his and placed a long kiss on your mouth. Your lips moved in sync as he held you tightly with his other arm. You were lost in each other, ignoring the full attention of the crowd. As you parted, the crowd loudly clapped at the spectacle. You took this moment to lean over to your new fiancé and whispered, "You went off script." He gently kissed your cheek and whispered back, "meant every word, Bell." Ghost returned to your side as older couples gathered, congratulating the "new couple." Your smile was genuine as you showed off the expensive ring, giddily detailing how your mothers would be so proud you bagged a good one.

You walked around the gallery more, now linking arms with Soap. You hadn't acknowledged the speech since your whisperings and went about downing numerous offered glasses of champagne. You made your way to a private gallery adored with more opulent paintings of historic love stories. Ghost positioned himself next to the security guard, allowing you both to sit on a bench and admire the artwork. After what seemed like forever, you in your tipsy state, broke the silence.

"My love, I appreciated your kind words. I never thought you felt that way about me," you said quietly, eyes trained on a depiction of. "Well El, you never gave me the chance. When we first met in France, I thought you disdained me," he replied, moving to hold your waist.

"I never disdained you, just ran away from my feelings," you whispered back. As you finished your sentence, he again placed his hand on your chin to lift your face. Just as you were about to kiss again, you heard through the comm, "Bell, Soap, we've been compromised. Gaz jammed their signals but security is heading to our location as we speak," Price said in a rushed tone.

Immediately, you feigned a dizzy spell as Ghost and the museum security guard rushed to help you. As they helped to carry you to a private room, you mumbled incoherently about how you were drunk on love. Once the security guard set you down, Soap shut the door and you discreetly injected the man with one of your toxins. As he lay on the velvet couch, Ghost replied to Gaz and Price that you were on the way.

Exiting the room, Ghost stopped a patrolling security guard and said, "There's a young woman in that room. Try not to disturb her, I believe she may have had one too many drinks and her father doesn't want a fiasco for the family."

With that, you made your way through the various guests, loudly whispering to your fiancé that you desperately wanted some alone time. No one questioned you as Ghost made his way to the stairwell and you both split into the elevator.

Descending to the ground floor, you could hear gunshots echoing through the elevator doors. As it opened, a guard yelled that you both shouldn't be down there before becoming distracted by another gunshot. You took this time to pull out another syringe and injected it into his neck.

"Nice work, Elaine," Soap said and armed himself with a hidden pistol from his suit pocket. Ghost joined you both soon after as you made your way to the other team's location. You three worked in unison as the boys provided a pleasant distraction with their gunfire. You were able to sneak you way and subdue the guards with your knife as they were distracted by the noise of falling bodies and shots fired. You finally made it to the room, notifying your presence with a coded series of knocks. Price heaved the door open as you noticed Gaz behind him, drive in hand but with a bleeding arm. You quickly tore the layers of fabric from your dress and provided a makeshift tourniquet.

"How are we getting out of here, Captain? They're gonna have this place on lockdown," Gaz asked. "There's a delivery area on this floor, we'll have to hurry," Ghost said and navigated you all through the winding corridors.

You finally snuck you way to the area but noticed 5 guards standing watch. "Gobshite, they must've already put this place on lockdown," Soap swore quietly. With the adrenaline rushing to your ears, you had an idea, "follow my lead, Renoir. Danger close, boys. Just listen for my signal" you whispered. You quickly took some blood from Gaz's leaking wound and applied it to your dress and ripped skirt. You rubbed your hands on Soap's pristine white shirt and pooled it around his stomach. You then motioned for him to cover his hands with Gaz's blood. "Thanks, mate," Soap whispered to Gaz and you quickly rushed into the large delivery room.

"Please help us!" you shrieked, you held on desperately to Ghost. "My fiancé and I were attacked by some crazed gunsman, I think he's been shot," you cried as the men rushed over to help. Your loud wailing and statements saying how you couldn't lose your love distracted them and allowed for you 5 to take them out. The minute you took one of the men closest to you out with your last syringe, you shrieked, "MY GOD, Kate's been shot!" That was the queue as the boys knew Laswell was nowhere near the museum. Soap quickly took out the two men trying to find the source of his bleeding while Price and Ghost handled the other two.

With the men down and the area cleared, you loaded into an armored van, presumably one that transported all the expensive art. With Price at the wheel, Ghost provided cover as you raced into the night.

Finally away from danger, you all breathed a sigh of relief. Gaz lay in the middle of Ghost and Price, tending to his wound while you and Soap lay in the back amongst the plastic wrappings of paintings.

"You were a great actress, lass. Who knew you had it in ya," Soap said as you sat next to him. You both were propped against the steel interior of the van, experiencing every bump Price hit. "You as well, that proposal was something else," you replied back. "Like I said in the gallery, Bell, I meant every word." With that, you finally were able to share your second kiss and Price smiled looking in the rearview mirror. "Be careful with that one Sgt, if you mess up she'll slip some ricin in your mouth." he joked as you and Soap rested against one another, you'd deal with the repercussions later.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap mctavish #soap mctavish x you #mw2 #izzie is writing

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sstormyskyess · 7 months

Text

Spooky Season

author's note: happy halloween fellas! hope that your halloweens are filled with candy and fun costumes just like the boys here!

cw: just fluff

word count: 1300+

TF 141 x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [costume parties]

♡ Ghost loves dressing up in a fun costume every year because it lets him both take part in the festivities while also keeping his comfortable sense of anonymity.

♡ Even if it's just a face of nicely done make-up you decorated his face with, just having anything covering him up keeps him feeling secure. It’s only a bonus to watch your cute little focused face as you’re applying the make-up, telling him to quit smiling so much so you can get everything lined up properly.

You have a smile on your face when you show Simon the costume you bought for him. A Frankenstein’s monster costume—in the largest size, of course—to match with your mad doctor costume. He took it from your hands with a chuckle. “How long did it take you to find this?” You laugh and set down your own costume on the bed. “An hour or so. You’re too big for your own good.”

Soon enough, you have his make-up done just right and his outfit straightened out just so. Then, you’re on your way to the party that Laswell and her wife were holding. “Love, I’m trying to drive.” He scolds you when your finger comes up to brush at his face and clean up some of your handiwork that had gotten smudged at some point. “You have to look perfect! Just gimme a sec…”

Once you get to the party, you immediately start getting compliments on your costumes and your face beams with pride, putting a little smile on his face. After a couple hours of mingling and indulging in snacks, candy, and Halloween-themed cocktails, you’re sitting on the couch together and the costume contest starts. It’s a close match between yours and Price’s dragon costume, but the final vote places you and Simon at the top.

He revels in the way your face lights up when the results are announced, dragging him up to the front of the room to get a little round of applause. His cheeks warm up and he silently thanks your make-up skills, since the face paint covers up the way his cheeks turn pink from the attention.

John “Soap” Mactavish [scary movies]

♡ Despite the fact that Soap is a massive scaredy-cat when it comes to spooky Halloween movies, he adores watching them just for the adrenaline rush.

♡ They’re even more fun when he has someone to grab onto when he inevitably falls to his weakness to jumpscares; once you’re dating, you will be the unfortunate victim to his antics. Half of the movie you’re getting jostled around because of his big arms wrapped around you when he’s freaking out from the monster that just popped out of a closet all of a sudden.

You yelp, not at the jumpscare on screen but because, for what felt like the hundredth time, Johnny has yanked you to his side with a shrill scream. “Oh, Christ—!” He squeezes onto you tight, pushing the air from your lungs. The evil ghost just jumped at the screen with a grumbly roar and now one of the main characters on-screen is getting mauled to death. Yikes.

“Johnny, you look like you’re about to piss yourself!” You laugh, a pout on his lips from your teasing. “It’s scary!” He wails, despite his eyes still locked on the screen and watching with suspense. You wrap your fingers around the bicep currently crushing you and give it a squeeze. “You’ll be okay, handsome. Now can you let go of me?” Johnny just nuzzles closer and squeezes you harder. “I can’t! What if the ghost gets me?” His pout dramatically deepens and you sigh.

“Well, if you squeeze me to death just know that I’ll be haunting you for as long as you live.” You muse, resting your head on his. His eyes snap to you and widen at that little comment. “You wouldn’t. Right?” He gives you an incredulous look. “I dunno, baby, if you keep choking me out like this you’ll just have to find out.” He gasps and huffs childishly, grumbling into your shoulder about how mean you are.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [apple picking]

♡ Gaz loves apple pie. It reminds him of his childhood so he makes it a yearly tradition to make at least one [he will eat more than one whole pie by himself] pie every autumn.

♡ The first autumn after you started dating, he saw a couple online going to an apple orchard for a date and he knew he needed to take you on a date just like that. You end up coming back home with enough apples to make as many pies as your hearts desire.

“Kyle! We’re not gonna have enough apples if you keep eating all of them!” You scold your boyfriend, watching him shrug and take another bite out of the apple in his hand. “We have plenty, sweetheart, don’t worry!” He said between crunching down on the bite he took. You shake your head and take the canvas bag full of the apples you picked just a couple hours ago away from the kitchen table, much to his dismay.

He follows you like a lost puppy and puts his chin on your shoulder while you prepare the homemade pie crust, pressing it into the pie tin. “How long is the pie gonna bake?” He asks with his hands on your hips. You pick up your phone and scan the recipe quickly. “Um… one hour.” Kyle groans. “That’s so long.” He whines.

You roll your eyes and turn back to getting the pie crust squared away before you get booped on the nose by Kyle’s flour-covered fingertip. You gasp and look back at him with a playfully offended glare. “Oh, it’s on now.” You grin and pinch some flour between your fingers to flick it at him with a giggle. It takes a good fifteen minutes before you’re finally able to get back to making the perfect pie, the two of you somehow ending up play-wrestling on the living room floor with your giddy laughter filling the room.

John Price [pumpkin carving]

♡ At this point in his life, Price has perfected the art of picking a good pumpkin to use for all the recipes he loves: pumpkin bread, pumpkin soup, even just fresh roasted pumpkin seeds.

♡ He gets to use his uncanny talents even more when you eventually drag him out to a pumpkin patch to find the perfect pumpkin to carve into a jack-o-lantern. He’s all smiles as he watches you crouch down to pick up and assess each one, giving you little tips along the way.

“Be careful with the knife, doll!” John calls from the kitchen. You roll your eyes and start to cut into the top of the pumpkin along the line you traced with a washable paint marker. “I’m not a baby, John!” You reply, a playful annoyance in your tone. He chuckles when he walks back in, watching your eyes squint while you try to cut the hole perfectly, fully focused.

He takes a seat at the table across from you, placing the pumpkin carving kit down in front of him and waiting for you to finish the first cut. "Did you pick a face for him?" He hums in thought when you pull your phone up and show him a picture of the design you picked out from your short Google search. “It’s a bit complicated, yeah?” You scoff and put a hand to your chest with a confident grin. “I can handle it, no problem!”

The night ends with your original pumpkin being used for pumpkin puree because you managed to goof up the design on your first try. You’re a bit down after having to use another pumpkin, but John is extra supportive of you the whole way through. By the time you put the candles in the bottom of the freshly made jack-o-lantern and put it on the porch, John has made the both of you a pot of pumpkin soup that you eat up the rest of the night.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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callsign-datura · 5 months

Note

dancer x 141? like they pick reader up from her classes, see all her shows, and even help her with costume money blah blah blah 😋

I HOPE I WRITE THIS OKAY I HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT DANCING OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT Ghost doesn't quite understand what you're learning, but he's happy to support you either way. Whatever kind of dance you're doing, he's happy to watch you practice on your own, and he'll drive however far away to bring you and pick you up from your classes. Now, since you're such a hard worker, he'll pamper you. Buy some parts of your costumes and your outfits (particularly the shoes, hairpieces, accessories if you wear them) and even the whole damn thing if you're struggling with money. If you come home and you're complaining about being sore, he'll run a bath for you and make your favorite dinner. He makes a point to go to every single one of your shows and take a seat near the front, closest to the stage, but sometimes his job gets in the way. Usually he'll make it up to you by cuddling up to you in bed after and or watching a video that was taken of your performance. Soap supports you. Strongly. Like, he fucking LOVES that you're so passionate about something. Buys you things, asks you how your classes are going, and you always end up talking to him about something and the people you have your classes with. He's really sweet about it, but one thing he does is ask you when your shows are in advance so he can show up to them early to wish you luck. More often than not he shows up to your practices early so he can watch you finish and pack up before you go home. He always greets you with sparkling eyes and a strong smile. He wraps an arm around your waist when you approach, kisses your forehead and coos to you about how talented you are. Price is the dad type. I mean, most people think of him like that, so it fits. He always has that strong and silent demeanor, and that applies in public. So when he goes to see your shows, he's usually sitting in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest as he leans back; no outward approval from him during, but don't let that convince you he's any less proud or happy. When he's bringing you home, he's asking you all about your day and how the show went, if you had any issues with it... shows interest, like Soap, but less... fervently. Always tells you how good you did, though. He also helps buy your things, and he almost always buys two of one thing if he's worried it'll break. Is definitely the type to give you massages because it's intimate and he knows you're sore. Gaz is almost like Soap when it comes to this. Buys your expensive pieces. The body pieces, the shoes, sometimes buys the makeup for you and will buy you anything else if you ask. He checks your phone for the dates of your shows in advance so he can put them down for himself. Absolutely adores you in your outfits, so he asks for pictures of you in them. When he's going to your show, he's always smiling-- looking on with such a happy expression. Definitely goes, "That's my girl" once or twice. Supports you as much as he can, but he can't always bring/pick you up from your classes, and to make up for that, he'll listen to you rant when you come home. Will definitely gossip, and if you ask him, "You remember that one girl I told you about?" he will say, "The blonde girl who made fun of your costume or that redhaired chick who said you were too ugly to be a dancer?"

#ghost x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #141 x reader #tf 141

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multifandombitxh · 2 years

Text

Holy Ghost

Pairing: Ghost x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff(?)

Warnings: Mentions of g*nshots, blood, bullet wounds, suggestive themes, adult language

Summary: After escaping the firefight with Graves and the Shadows, Y/N doesn't quite make it out unscathed. Ghost does his best to tend to their wounds as they wait for Soap to join them at the church.

A/N: I told you I'd fuckin do it again. Taking requests for this man, working on some fluff as well :)

18+ MINORS DNI

"Just get here alive," Ghost commanded with his head tilted downward, his voice echoing from your own comms. You were busy patting down a bullet wound- barely grazed, but enough to be trouble. Blood was drawing lazy rivers down your bare arm, pooling at your fingertips and dripping to the floor.

Graves' men had good aim, you could give them that much. But not good enough.

"Soap's still out there," Ghost said to you over his shoulder. You responded with a nod.

"That's good," You replied, wincing as you began removing the soaked fabric from your wound. You'd been applying pressure for what felt like ages and it just wasn't enough. When red bubbled and gushed out of the gash you grunted, biting down on your lower lip and tossing the saturated scrap to the ground. "We need him if we're gonna finish this."

"Still bleeding?" He asked.

"Like a stuck pig," You said with a small laugh, tearing another piece of fabric from your shirt you'd decided had run its course. When it becomes life or death, things like walking around in a tank top are incredibly trivial. Your gear was sitting in a pile in the corner of the tower, some of Ghost's accompanying it.

"That's quite the biohazard," Ghost quipped, eyeing the bloody rag you'd just discarded. "Had your Hep B shots recently, by chance?"

"If you're not gonna help, you could at least shut up," You snapped, rolling your eyes and ripping another chunk of material from your shirt. You folded it into a square as best as you could and hovered over your wound, mentally preparing yourself for the pain. Holding your breath you pressed it against your skin, squeezing your eyes shut and releasing the air in your lungs.

"You're not applying enough pressure," Ghost declared, sounding very sure of himself. You weren't sure when he'd crossed the room to stand beside you, but whenever he did it, he was quiet as a mouse. "Here, I've got ya."

Ghost's gloved hand closed over yours before you could ask what he was doing, his fingers clamping down on your skin and his palm pressing hard into the wound. You had to admit, he was definitely more well equipped to apply pressure to a wound, but it didn't make you feel any less weak.

At the same time, it also hurt more.

"You'll need to share your weights routine with me sometime," You joked, keeping your gaze to the floor below. "I'll never understand how a person can gain that much muscle."

"That's an odd way to dish out a compliment," Ghost replied, a lilt to his voice. "But I'll take it."

Silence fell over the room, the sounds of rain pattering against the stained-glass windows of the church giving the whole place an eerie feel. Feeling yourself grow lightheaded, you pressed your palm to your forehead, groaning softly and blinking several times. A sick feeling settled in your gut, and for a moment you thought you were going to puke all over the floor. Next, sweat broke out over your skin in a sheen, and your eyelids felt heavy just to keep open. You couldn't possibly have lost that much blood, could you?

"Still with me?" Ghost asked.

"Physically, maybe."

"Mentally?"

"Mentally, I'm in Tahiti."

Ghost chuckled at your remark, a sound you'd never heard before. A small smile formed on your face, but then you felt your knees buckle, forcing you to stumble forward in order to catch yourself. He was quick to bring you back upright, the hand that wasn't keeping your blood inside you gripped your waist and hoisted you upwards.

"Can't have that," He sighed, glancing around the room for anywhere to help you sit down, but there was nothing. "Right, I'm gonna help you down, you just follow my lead, yeah?"

"Sure," You nodded, not fully aware of what was happening. Ghost released your bicep and knelt down, hooking his arm under your knees and pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You did your best to hold onto him as he lowered you both to the floor, keeping you in his lap as he went down. If you hadn't been a bit off from the blood loss, you probably would have questioned him about it.

Instead, you welcomed the embrace, leaning into his chest and letting out a soft sigh as you settled in. More blood trickled from your arm and anxiety finally set in. It wasn't stopping, even with Ghost's help. Sensing your tension, he caught your attention by leaning forward to whisper against your forehead.

"It's slowed down a bit," He reassured, reapplying the compress to the inflicted area, using his arm that was keeping you upright. His other arm was lazily draped over your legs, fingers balled into a fist near your bent knees. "This oughta help."

"At least we're in a church," You said dryly, "Quick funeral. Maybe Soap can conduct. You think he knows any bible verses?"

"Don't even joke about it," Ghost warned, his tone firm. "You'll be fine, just sit still."

"Sorry, Lieutenant," You said, dropping the lightheartedness for a moment to properly apologize.

Soap came through on comms again, as if stating his name summoned him. Ghost talked him through how to craft himself some weapons and defenses, and you felt bad that he was out there all on his own with no help at all. Thankfully, Ghost wasn't an amateur, and was able to assist to a small degree.

"Think he'll make it alright?" You asked after he finished his guerilla warfare lesson with Soap.

"He doesn't have a choice," Ghost replied, "He either makes it here in one piece, or he dies."

You shifted uncomfortably in his lap. "You're quite the optimist, sir."

"You can feign ignorance all you want," Ghost grunted, adjusting you to sit more comfortably on his thigh. "Doesn't change the circumstances."

"You have to pull out your Thesaurus for that one?" You asked jokingly, smiling to yourself. "Those are some big words, Lieutenant. You know they don't pay us to be scholars."

"They hardly pay us at all, Y/N."

"And yet, here we are."

A few minutes passed and your upper arm was starting to ache, the wound pulsating under Ghost's unrelenting hold. He hadn't let up for a second, keeping so much pressure on the spot you were sure you'd have bruises where his fingers dug into the skin. Rolling your neck, you softly moaned at the satisfying crack, then let out a small sigh.

"Enjoying yourself?" Ghost asked simply.

"Oh, yeah, I've always fantasized about being trapped in an old, dusty church with my Lieutenant, bleeding to death in his lap while our friends have been kidnapped or hunted down," You said in a monotone voice. "Really gets me goin'."

"Glad I could make it a reality," He scoffed, "Doesn't take much to please you then, does it?"

"I'm a simple creature, sir," You replied.

"I'll keep that in mind."

At long last, he finally released his grip on your arm, leaning forward to eye the damage. The wound had finally stopped gushing, thank the heavens, but was so caked in dried blood that it was hard to make out exactly how bad it was. Clicking his tongue, he turned your arm over in his hand to get a different angle before releasing it altogether.

"Sit tight," He said, gently sliding you off of him and standing. His knees popped as he rose from the floor, but you were too busy surveying your bloody arm to make any jokes about him being a grumpy old man. Just as you suspected, several fingertip sized spots were dotting the space around the gash, red and blue and angry. Smudged blood hid them a bit, but it was clear as day that he'd left several marks.

Ghost rifled through his bag for a bit before pulling something free, turning it over in his hands. He nodded to himself, tossing his bag to the side and returning his attention to you.

"You're not gonna like this," He warned, turning around to reveal a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You shivered at the sight of it, knowing exactly what was coming next. "But I can't have you dying of an infection on me. Shitty way to go."

Cursing the Shadows who did this to you, your nervous eyes found the ceiling as Ghost approached. Your back was pressed flush against the brick wall behind you, and you took several deep breaths. You heard the sound of him unscrewing the cap of the bottle and mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable sting. He sprayed some of it on his own hands, rubbing them together before looking back at you.

"Eyes on me, yeah?" He said, his voice low and soft. You squeezed your eyes shut once before turning your attention to Ghost, who was kneeling in front of you with one hand on your thigh and the other clutching the alcohol. His gaze was intense, but still, you nodded, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

He didn't warn you before he began pouring the liquid over your arm. Despite your efforts to remain still and silent, your body lurched forward against your will, a strangled, drawn out groan rumbling in your chest. Lightning shot through your whole body as the clear fluid coated your wound, your nerves screaming and tears forming at the corners of your eyes. The burning sensation overpowered everything, and for a moment, your vision went white.

Instinctively, your hand flew up to stop the pain, closing around Ghost's wrist to try and pull the bottle away. Grunting, he pried your hand free and forced it to the side, pressing your hand down into the floor as hard as he could. His hand engulfed your own, covering it with ease as he pinned it down beside you. Wriggling against his hold, you let out a soft, unintentional whine, squeezing your eyes shut tight as another wave of alcohol flooded your wound.

"I know," Ghost reassured, "Focus on me, Y/N."

"It fucking hurts," You croaked, cringing at the weak tone in your voice.

"Amputation and sepsis hurt worse," He replied, eyeing his work for a moment before returning his attention to you.

Considering just how much blood and dust and bacteria had invaded the slice in your arm, Ghost was thorough, squeezing the bottle to control the flow. It felt like years, and you couldn't take it any longer. A strangled cry ripped its way out of your throat, your head falling forward and your chest heaving. Your heart was hammering against your ribs, your limbs locked up and your brain in survival mode.

A loud crash echoed through the church and you both jumped, two voices filtering in from the foyer below. Just as they burst through the front doors, your anguish was just starting to manifest through groans and sobs, but Ghost was quick to shut it down. The hand that had been keeping you still quickly clamped over your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that could come out.

"Shadows," He stated, "You need to relax or they'll find us."

Breathing hard through your nose, you maintained eye contact with your lieutenant, your eyes misting over as the pain finally started to subside. He placed the bottle on the floor nearby, then used his now free hand to grip the back of your neck. With one hand covering your mouth and the other drawing you closer, Ghost stared straight into your soul.

To try and bring yourself back down to Earth, you gripped the front of his shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric and clinging to it like your life depended on it. Ghost drew in a sharp breath as you latched on, his eyes widening for a moment before narrowing again. It looked as if he was concentrating hard on something, searching your eyes and quickly glancing down at his hand that covered your mouth every few seconds.

The look in his eyes was intense, and the hand on the back of your neck felt foreign, but welcomed. Any closer and your foreheads would have been touching, and for a split moment, you thought about doing just that. It wasn't the first time you felt compelled to show some form of affection toward him, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Ghost slowly removed his hand from your face, fingers gently sliding over the skin of your cheeks and jaw. Your mouth fell open as you sucked in shaky gulps of air, trying to stay as quiet as humanly possible. Both of you were caught in some sort of trance; the world around you falling away until all that remained was Ghost and his prying eyes.

Not that you minded.

"Keep lookin' at me like that and I'll give you something else to scream about," Ghost whispered, looking shocked at himself as the words left his mouth. You shivered involuntarily, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words.

In that moment, he was no longer your superior. He was just a man in a mask with dreamy eyes and a velvety smooth voice that sent your heart soaring. It didn't matter that the Shadows were just downstairs, or that your arm was stinging to high hell, or that you were stuck in that stupid church until Soap could find his way to you. All that mattered was Ghost and his tempting words.

"They'd find us," You reasoned, your voice barely above a whisper.

"They'd get a nice view before they die, then."

The Shadows noisily searched the church below, their voices traveling up to the tower. Windows shattered and benches were turned over, echoing throughout the building. It took what felt like centuries, but after a while, they finally gave up on their search and exited the building. It wasn't until the sounds of their boots became distant that either of you moved, but once they were gone, Ghost acted quickly.

As quickly as he could, he all but ripped his mask up enough to reveal his hidden mouth. You didn't have long to memorize what it looked like, because before you knew it, his lips were on yours in a heated kiss. The hand on your neck deepened the kiss as Ghost tilted his head to the side, lips aggressive and harsh against your own. You happily returned the gesture, sighing into his mouth and letting your eyes flutter shut. Your shaking hands reached up to cup both sides of his face, adrenaline coursing through you until your body felt light as a feather.

The moment your hands connected with his skin, he let out a sound you couldn't quite place- some sort of growl mixed deliciously with a moan. Boldness bloomed in your chest at his reaction and you let your hands wander downward on their own, taking note of how tense he became wherever they went. His heaving chest, the center of his ribcage, his hard stomach, his abdomen-

"Careful," He warned slowly, breaking the kiss to mutter in your ear.

"I thought this is what you wanted," You replied, withdrawing your hands.

"You have no fucking clue how badly I want you right now," He hissed, his hands abandoning your neck to grip your waist. "If it were up to me, I'd already have you underneath me on this filthy floor, trust me, love."

"What's stopping you?" You asked, anticipation building in your gut and his words going straight to your lower half.

"I'm not a religious man, Y/N, but the good Lord doesn't need to see what I'm gonna do to you."

"Should I consider this a confessional, sir?" You asked jokingly. "Usually there'd be a wall between us."

"There's something between us, that's for sure," Ghost quipped, his mouth turning up in a small smile.

"Lt?" Soap's voice startled you both, but Ghost was quick to respond, immediately regaining his composure.

"Go ahead, Soap," He said into the box on his chest.

"Hate to ruin such a lovely moment between friends, but if you could at least turn off your comms, the Shadows and I would appreciate it."

Your stomach dropped like a rock and you covered your mouth with your hand, eyes wide. Ghost cleared his throat and held your gaze as he spoke to Soap again.

"Message received," He said in a flat voice. This time, he made sure to flip the microphone switch, then returned his full attention to you.

"I'll wring his neck if he ever mentions it," Ghost declared, the pad of his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "Let's finish cleaning you up, yeah?"

#hehe oops #still not sorry #im trying to figure out a plot for fluff #ideas are always appreciated #ghost x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley fanfic #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #mw2 imagine #ghost mw2 #mw2 spoilers #mywriting #tw blood #ghost angst #simon riley angst

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mikhailwrites · 8 months

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Wash the blood off my hands / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #20 - Showering (from the SFW prompt list)

“Keep the pressure on!” Ghost barks out as he frantically rips through the plane, searching for a medkit.

Gaz doesn’t say anything, but he does put his weight down on Soap’s chest more, pressing the bundled cloth to the wound. His hands are drenched in blood, glistening and slick with it. Soap’s life is literally in his hands. On them. Around them. Trickling down on the metal floor of the plane.

Gaz is thankful that Soap is unconscious. If he weren’t, he’d be screaming in pain now, perhaps trying to shake Gaz off. There are not many things worse than holding your brother in arms down, causing him an ungodly agony because it’s the only way to help him. To save him.

Gaz is doing everything in his power to keep the blood in, but it just keeps oozing out all around his hands. “Ghost!” he calls out, desperate. He doesn’t have to shout; the only way to hear each other over the hum and rumble of the engines is their comms. He knows Ghost is doing all he can, but that’s just not enough. Their help is not enough. For a terrifying moment, Soap’s laboured breathing stops, and Gaz freezes. Then Soap takes another breath. “GHOST!” Gaz shouts.

He feels hurried, heavy footsteps reverberating through the floor, and then Ghost kneels next to him. He’s found the kit and is now tearing it open, spilling its contents on the floor, rummaging through it for scissors. He finds them quickly and gets to cutting Soap’s tee. Once it’s done, he cleans the worst of the blood around Gaz’s hands, preparing to relieve him from his duty with a gauze and pressure dressing at the ready.

They quickly switch, Ghost applying the dressing just as they were taught. Stacking a few sterile pads on the wound, applying the pressure gauze, making sure the adhesive holds. Ghost moves quickly and purposefully, and soon enough, both Ghost and Gaz sit back, taking deep breaths to calm themselves.

Soap is very much not out of the woods yet, but they manage to stop the bleeding. His chances just went up significantly. They stare at their comrade with dull gazes. Adrenaline abating, the novelty of Soap possibly dying wearing out, becoming just another part of reality now.

“I can’t lose him,” Ghost admits quietly after a long, heavy silence. It’s weird to hear him in the comms, even when he sits so close to Gaz.

Gaz weights his responses. The first impulse is to say that they won’t lose Soap. He can’t know that, though, and in this line of work, nobody wants empty platitudes. “He’s one tough motherfucker, you know that.”

Gaz looks at Soap’s worryingly pale face, then turns to Ghost, who lifts his gaze as well. “I cannot lose him, Kyle,” Ghost repeats, and there’s something in his eyes that chills Gaz to his bones. He knows Ghost is attached to Soap. Price knows, as well. Hell, everyone knows. Soap and Ghost are a package deal. If you want one, you get the other for free. If you mess with one, the other will come and mess you up. Gaz is worried about Soap, obviously, but he also cannot help but be just as worried about Ghost. The fact that the bullet Johnny caught was meant for Ghost, and it would’ve, beyond any doubt, killed him on the spot, is only icing on this fucked up cake of theirs.

Soap makes it. It’s way too close a call as he flatlines two times, and even after that, it’s touch and go for two more days before the doctors manage to stabilise him. The only reason Ghost is still at least marginally functioning is because the moment they landed, Price barred him from seeing Soap, telling him that he would keep him updated.

Unfortunately, marginally functioning Ghost turns out to be a proper cunt. He’s downright insufferable. Gaz takes over his recruit training rotations because, on the first one after their return, three poor sods had quit on the spot. Anyone not required to talk to him gives him a very wide berth.

Well, everyone except for Price and Gaz, who do their best to keep their Lieutenant occupied. Giving him work to do, trying to convince him to go to a pub with them. They even go as far as to bribe the cook to make Ghost’s favourite food.

Nothing really works. At least about a week in, Ghost gets a little bit better. Soap is still in a medically induced coma, but he is healing and out of immediate danger.

Soap returns after a month. He’s lost some weight, enough to be immediately noticeable, is paler, and his smile is not quite as bright as usual. But he’s back.

“Johnny,” Ghost says in a way of greeting, but no matter how hard he tries to play it cool and casual, his voice wavers and his hands tremble.

“Simon,” Soap smiles, his gaze lingering.

Price groans, putting out his cigar. “Glad to have you back with us, son, but for Christ’s sake, I can’t stand your pining a minute longer. Do as all a service and work it out like adults,” he waves his hand as he turns around and leaves.

Gaz stifles a surprised laugh, but he grins as he gently squeezes Soap’s shoulder. “He’s got a point, you know,” he tells Soap quietly before he goes on about his business.

They do work it out. The exchange is so simple it’s almost comical. A pair of “Do you...?” followed by “I thought...” leading to Johnny laughing and Simon groaning. Neither of them is sure if the kissing is something Price wanted to include in the “work it out” phrase, yet they don’t care enough to stop.

Of course, they do stop eventually, and as they part, Ghost scrunches his nose. “You reek of a hospital,” he explains, seeing Johnny’s questioning look.

Soap chuckles. “Aye, guess I do. What’re you suggesting?”

“A shower,” Ghost says, looking at Johnny as if he half-expects him to refuse.

Soap, however, readily agrees. Simon helps him out of his clothes, wincing as he notices just how much weight Johnny really lost. He’s still captivating and devastatingly handsome in the boyish, rebellious kind of way. Furthermore, Simon is reasonably sure he’d find Johnny beautiful under any circumstances.

He only pauses once he sees the scarred, puckered skin where the bullet entered Soap’s body. Soap catches Ghost’s hand. “Come on, I’m cold,” he urges him on, even though it’s a lie.

It works, Ghost nods and leads them to the bathroom, closing the stall and starting the water. The injury doesn’t bar Soap from washing himself, but Ghost is not giving up any chance to touch him. In many regards, it’s like seeing Soap for the first time. Unlike communal showers or hurried washing during the deployments, he’s allowed to watch and to touch and to admire.

With a slight startle as Soap touches him in return, he realises that it works both ways. Johnny’s eyes are roaming across Simon’s body, catching on the scars, tracing the muscles with his hands. He knows his body is a lot to take in. Knows it’s off-putting to some. Not to Johnny, though. He never, even for a second, thought that Johnny would mind or be repulsed.

They’re both wet enough by now, so Ghost shuts the water and gets the soap. “Are you going to make that pun, Simon?” Johnny asks, a challenge clear in his voice. He’s tempted, of course, and Johnny is not helping. “Come on, I know you want to.”

“I’m better than that,” Ghost resists, pouring the gel into his palm and rubbing his hands together before he puts them on Johnny’s shoulders, gently massaging as he spreads the white foam.

Johnny closes his eyes and hums contentedly, relaxing under Simon’s touch. “I don’t think you are, Simon.”

“Fuck… alright. Time to put some soap on Soap,” Ghost grunts out, not even proud of himself.

Soap snorts. “Certifiably rubbish, sir,” he rates the joke, seemingly unimpressed. Ghost simply shakes his head and focuses on Johnny. Once he’s nearing some more interesting bits, he hesitates. It simply feels too soon and out of place. Soap is probably bloody clairvoyant since the next thing he says is: “Don’t worry, I don’t think I can get it up anyway. Kinda out of form, and some of the meds they gave me just fuck me up.”

Simon looks at Johnny, feeling his eyes tearing up. He doesn’t deserve this man, not by a long shot. He doesn’t trust himself with words, so he opts for a nod before resuming his care. It’s gentle and slow. It would be undeniably erotic, too, if not for the context. Maybe next time. Or the time after that. They do have the time now, Ghost realises. He carefully embraces Soap, their bodies sliding and slotting easily against each other. Simon closes his eyes, focusing solely on the feeling of Johnny pressed against him.

They don’t say a word. Not when Simon lets him go, not when he turns the water on again, washing the Soap off of them. Not when they step out of the stall, and Simon hands Johnny a towel.

Ghost looks at the scar again. It’s an eternal reminder of Ghost’s debt and of Soap’s devotion to him. Only then does Johnny speak again. “Ye ken, it’s nae gonna disappear if you keep staring at it,” Soap says lightheartedly, smiling and colouring his words with something warm.

Ghost tears his gaze away from Johnny’s chest, looking into his eyes. “I hope it did. I wish that…”

Soap shushes him, putting an index finger on Simon’s lips. “I dinnae wanna hear it, Ghost. It was my choice.”

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #soap mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #whump #hurt/comfort

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1-800-suck-my-clit · 2 months

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Testing my multifandomness, so here's a list of ships I support/enjoy and why

Most (damn near all) are ganna be MlM

Clegan (bucky x buck)

John is so love sick for gale you just have to ship them

Hannigraham (Hannibal x Will Graham)

They act like a married couple with Gothic scenes and inuendos

Bat jokes (Batman x Joker)

Idk man something abt villian and hero falling in love despite being the farthest of opposites. And I love their banter where Joker shamelessly flirts with him

Superbat (Batman x Superman / Bruce Wayne x Clark Kent)

Now ik what ur thinking "bat jokes AND superbat how scandalous😱" this one only really applies to their "citizen" forms. I love the rich sugar daddy and kind southern accent trope. Also them in their hero forms are also cute bc batman let's his guard down for him

Zosan (zoro x sanji)

Your honor they're married🙄

Hisoillu

They give off Doberman and black cat energy. And canonically they are married ‼️

Rathelstan (ragnar x athelstan)

The love I have for them hold no words so here are some quotes that made me wanna rip my heart out.

"What do you mean?! You cannot leave...you cannot leave me! I love you...and you're the only I can trust so you must stay"

"I always believed that death is a fate far better than life, for you will be reunited with lost loved ones. But we will never meet again, my friend. I have a feeling that your God might object to me visiting you in Heaven. What am I to do now?"

"I hate you for leaving me. I ache from your loss. There is nothing that can console me now. I am changed, so are you.”

Symbrock (Venom x Eddie)

HEAR ME OUT PLEASE...So um anyways

Spideypool (spiderman x deadpool)

Their banter in the comics is so cute

Soapghost(konig) (Soap x Ghost (x Konig) / Simon Riley x John McTavish (x Konig))

Got really into them when CoD started blowing up on my FYP last year

Patrochillies (Patrocles x Achilles)

Ganna cry I love them sm. "He is half of my soul as the poets say" 🤣🔪🩸

Eremika (Eren x Mikasa)

If u don't belive they are end game ur wrong abt everything🥱. Tho I belive in eremika being cannon I also ship EreJean (Eren x Jean) who's to say a Lil hate sex never hurt anyone 🤭

Jayvik (jayce x viktor)

Idk who I wanna be jayces girlfriend, his boyfriend, or him😩

BoKuro (Bokuto x Kuroo)

Himbos in love? Count me in. tho I do also ship them with their main ships aswell

NaruSasu (Naruto x Sasuke)

No one chases a man around for damn near a decade bc "We're best friends🥺" 😒

Last but not least

KiriBaku (kirishima x Bakugou)

I don't give one damn what ANYONE says they are literally end game. FUCK BAKUDEKU‼️‼️🗣 I need the firecracker and his leash‼️

Um thank u for listening to my Ted talk lol 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

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soapskneebrace · 27 days

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State of the Knee Brace (which I think might become my personal tag):

I’m still working on neighbors and muses, and I’m making some good progress! Right now I’m plotting out the broad strokes for the arcs of each fic, which I neglected to do for a long time, and I’m hoping this will enable me to write and post more often and more consistently. I learned a really important lesson from the first chapter of lessons in epigenetics, about knowing my draft and what I want to accomplish, and I’m doing my best to apply that lesson to my two series.

I still intend to write the second part of roommate ghost and it’s still in the planning stages. My thought is that I might write shorter chapters for this fic, and then once they’re all posted here, combine them into one long chapter and add it to ao3.

Lessons in epigenetics (price’s wife x poly 141) will get updates as the mood strikes. I don’t have a strong plot in mind for that, it’s just vibes.

Selkie Soap is also on the roster. Same deal as roommate ghost, it’s in the planning stages right now and I imagine I'll post short updates here and combine them into one long piece for ao3.

My ko-fi account is set up and ready, I'm just holding off on sharing it until I have some fic to post. I don't really want to ask for money without having something to give in return. I won't be asking for subscriptions, but rather whenever something is ready to go up it will be available first to people who donate and then to everyone else later. I will possibly be providing original fiction exclusively to ko-fi supporters.

That's all I can think of right now! Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me so far.

#state of the knee brace

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cherryatombomb · 1 year

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The Haunting of the Miller House

John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

a/n: for now, this is a oneshot, but could turn into a series depending on reception! this is a buzzfeed unsolved au, where soap is a paranormal investigator, and ghost is his demon companion. he's unaware he's a demon, of course! no warnings apply, besides a few minor descriptions of violence that comes with hauntings. read on ao3 !!

The video starts. Two men stand aside one another; one is shorter, though in reality stands at around 6”0. He has a mohawk and is dressed in relatively light clothes – a flannel shirt over a white, plain tee, and faded blue jeans. He’s wearing trainers and excitedly smiles at the camera. His companion stands impossibly tall, at 6”5, and is wearing a darker outfit then his friend. A beanie covers his head, black and plain, and the lower half of his face is covered by a plain black facemask. Despite it being late at night, he’s wearing sunglasses. A black hoodie with skeletal ribs around the right area on his stomach, black jeans, and combat boots finish his outfit off. In every way, he looks like his partner’s opposite.

“The Miller household was once a lovely house in a nice suburban area, bought by a young, budding couple, excited to start their new life together,” The smaller one begins to speak, his voice dramatic, clearly getting into telling a story. His accent is Scottish, though it isn’t too thick, at this moment. “As soon as they moved in, however, things began to seem out of place. A bump in the night, lights switching on and off, or a TV being on when they had definitely turned it off. Things came to a head, however, when they claimed to see a figure in the night-”

A scoff escapes the taller man. The smaller man shakes his head in amusement and continues.

“-One that continued to haunt them. Scratches, bruises, furniture being pushed around, and perhaps one of my favourite pieces of evidence to date.” A picture shows on the screen of a dark room. Outside the window appears to be a figure, peering at the window, though it's only the outline – there are no discernible features.

“Photoshop,” The tall man muses.

The Scotsman rolls his eyes, though his smile betrays his affection. “I’m John MacTavish – though you can call me Soap, and this is my ‘partner’,” Soap nudges his partner’s side, giving him an expectant look. The man in question blinks slowly at him before he seems to register what’s going on.

He huffs.

“I’m Simon Riley. Ghost.”

“A man of many words, aye?” A snicker escapes John, and it’s difficult to see Simon’s reaction – though his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners.

“Either way, I’m a wholehearted believer in ghosts. My partner is a skeptic. In this series, I tour some of my favourite haunted locations, whilst also trying to prove to him that ghosts are real!” Soap’s hands clasp together excitedly, and as an intro begins to play, the ironically named Ghost mumbles a few things about ‘photoshop’ and ‘hallucinations.

The intro gives some music, and some more information about the house, as it plays some shots of the house in the background. It looks like a generic house on the outside, though its inside clearly reflects its abandoned state – classic interior, fitting of the past. The Miller House is a hot spot for paranormal activity, apparently, thousands of believers from all over the world come to visit and come away firmly in belief of the paranormal.

The intro finishes with a flash of the title, before returning to the two partners. They stand inside the house, now – Ghost is forced to crouch to get through a doorway without hitting his head.

“This is the living room. Where the TVs used to turn on without anybody being there – the lights often switched off and on in this room, too,” Soap explains, looking around the room with trepidation in his features.

“Maybe the ghosts just wanted to watch TV. Did they think about that?” Ghost questions, his voice amused, even when his face betrays nothing but seriousness.

“Well, when paranormal activity occurs, there tend to be problems with electricity, so it might be that-”

“They definitely want to watch TV. All ghosts are from the medieval period, right? I’d want to watch TV without it killing me. Maybe the Simpsons. Maybe just the news.”

Soap does his best to seem annoyed with his words, his arms folding across his chest, but an amused laugh escapes him, nonetheless. It seems to put him at ease, more relaxed in the dark house, now. “It’s a nice living room,” He finally relents, grinning.

“Better than ours,”

“Our living room is lovely!”

“Remember the wine-”

Ghost is cut off by a glare from Soap. The look lingers, before the shot changes once more.

Now, they stand in front of the stairs, looking up at them. There are a few pieces of leftover decorations along the wall by the stairs, just a few paintings, but it’s nothing that daunting. It’s dark upstairs, and both men have different expressions on their features.

Ghost looks nonplussed. Even behind the mask, everything about his stance reads casual and calm. Soap, on the other hand, is staring upstairs like it might kill him, immediately.

“Maybe we could… put some lights on, eh?”

“No. Gotta prepare you for your solo run, MacTavish,” A hand is placed on his shoulder, and it’s difficult to see behind the mask, but Ghost is grinning at him. Soap huffs right back in response, before gesturing to the stares, “Ladies first!”

A chuckle escapes the man in hand, but he allows the other to hide behind him as he walks upstairs. When he reaches the top, followed by Soap, his eyes flit around the long hallway, before focusing on a single spot. His eyes narrow momentarily, catching even his companion’s attention.

“See somethin’?” More of Soap’s accent slips out when he’s nervous, apparently, anxiety intensifying thanks to the skeptic's sudden focus.

There’s a momentary silence as he simply continues glaring. The camera zooms in to where he appears to be looking, and there seems to be nothing but empty space.

“Nice painting,” that silence is suddenly broken, and the camera pulls back in time to see Soap’s eyes widen, then let out a laugh.

“Ye right scunner!” Soap exclaims between laughter, nudging his side in what seems to be a chide for scaring him. Once more, his accent thickens with his emotions – now with righteous indignation at being frightened by his partner. A knowing look in his eyes betrays that this isn’t the first time.

“English, MacTavish,”

“Och, fuck you,” Despite the seeming irritation in his words, he’s grinning fondly. The duo walks to the end of the hallway and step into a nearby room. It’s the bedroom, clearly.

“This is where Elizabeth Miller and Daniel Miller were sleeping peacefully one night before a loud crash woke them up,” Soap begins to explain, and he looks enthusiastic about this explanation. He looks around the room, gesturing wildly as he speaks.

This time, Ghost does not interrupt him. Instead, he watches, fondly.

“Both got up to inspect the crash, together, knowing that they’ve had a few incidents with the paranormal before, when Elizabeth sees a figure in the corner. Before she can warn her partner, the figure rushes forwards and sends her flying across the room. Daniel is sent the same way. They both rush out of the house, different items being flung at them – plates, glasses, even a book – before they make it out.”

“I’d love to fight a ghost, one day,” Simon interjects, seeming unable to resist.

Seeming typical of the two, John just stares at him for a moment, before forging on.

“They go to hospital, get treated for their injuries – some scratches, like deep claws, and Elizabeth broke a rib. Daniel made it away with only a sprained wrist and scratches. This room is considered the most haunted place in the house – different paranormal investigators have come here, and have claimed to hear voices, whispers, or the sensation of being touched.” His explanation finished, Soap looks around the room, as if expecting someone to jump out at them at any time.

“If any demons would like to… steal my heart, they’re more than welcome to,” Simon begins, walking around the room like he owns the place, “Hell, whilst you’re at it, why not steal Johnny’s heart? Just take it out. Maybe throw us across the room. Let’s fight. I can fight.”

“Don’t drag me into your shit, eejit!” Soap complains at him, backing away as if to form a physical barrier between them. “I like my heart where it is?”

“You’re no fun,” Simon sighs softly, as if truly forlorn, but his shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

Once more, the scene shifts, back to both being outside. Simon is wearing a helmet with a camera on it, able to catch his face without having to use his hands. There are walkie-talkies in both of their hands.

“Welcome to my least favourite part of the investigation – the solo investigation! This time, both me and Simon will work through every room in the house, trying to reach out to whatever ghosts – or demons! - inhabit the house, separately,”

“I look ridiculous,”

“You look… handsome?”

Ghost glares at Soap. The latter grins unrepentantly, before shooing him inside.

Once more, the camera shifts – this time, it’s a close-up of Ghost’s face as he walks through the house. It’s dark, and his eyes can be seen drifting around the room, looking the epitome of calm and relaxed, despite being in a supposed haunted hotspot. The video shifts between different clips of him taunting his namesake:

“Reckon I could take a ghost in a fight,”

“You want to scratch me up? Come on, then. Wait, that sounds…”

“What did the ghost say when it crashed the Halloween party? I’m here for the boos,”

At the last pun, the camera snaps back outside, to where Soap is sitting comfortably in his seat. “I bet he’s telling shitty jokes, the asshole,” fondness drips from his tone, “getting them all riled up for me, I’m tellin’ you! Next time, I’m goin’ in first. Then we’ll see who gets freaked out,”

The camera snaps back, just in time to see Ghost hit his head against the door he’s trying to walk through. He glares at the camera as if trying to inform every viewer not to say anything about it, before making his way upstairs.

His journey skips to the bedroom, once more, uneventful. The room is dark as he steps inside, and this time, he remembers to duck down to avoid hitting his head.

“This is where that picture Johnny likes was taken,” he muses, looking over at the window. Closer, he wanders, then uses his fingers to make the ‘I’m watching you’ sign as if there’s something he can see out the window. “Any demons want to use me as a vessel?” He asks, turning and lazily spinning around in the room as if to try and tempt them. There's amusement in his tone, lazy confidence, like he knows there’s nothing here, or, if there is, that it would never dare to touch him.

“Time’s up, Ghost,” Johnny calls through his walkie-talkie.

“See you next time, demons. Give Johnny a fright for me. He hates hearing footsteps in other rooms. Nothing more, though. Don’t want to give him a heart attack,” he muses, beginning the trek downstairs. There’s a tapping sound on the wall as he walks past, a tap, pause, then another tap. He walks on like he doesn’t notice a thing.

There’s a change in perspective as Ghost steps outside, so both are in view. Rather dramatically, Ghost staggers out of the house, staring at his partner with wide eyes.

“What?” Immediately, Soap is moving closer, concerned.

“They spoke to me,”

“What?” Soap looks frantic, terrified, and intrigued, all in one.

“I can hardly boo-lieve it,”

A groan escapes John. He gives Ghost a look like he killed his cat.

Ghost just looks proud of himself.

There’s a pregnant pause, before the camera switches, and Soap is the one in the house. His shoulders are drawn, tense, walking around the house. “C’mon, ghosts. Give me something. Wanna… tug on my shirt? I’ve got some nice arms; you want to touch them?” As his arms lift, showing off his biceps, footsteps ring out from upstairs.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Somehow, even in the night vision of the camera, it’s clear all the colour has left his face.

“That’s fine. Yeah, everything’s fine. Better than fine,” He continues his walk through the downstairs rooms, now in the living room, “I can walk around, too. See? Hear my feet?” His feet thud loudly against the floor.

There seems to be no response.

“Yeah! That’s what I fuckin’ thought! Ye bawbags, nothin’ but cowards!”

Perspective shifts and they’re outside for a moment. Ghost is standing with a walkie-talkie in his hands, seemingly mid-conversation with someone behind the camera, before indecipherable Scottish yelling is heard from the building. He seems to be taunting the ghosts.

“He’s yelling at them already? Thought he’d last longer,” Simon deadpans, staring at the camera for a few moments longer. It falls silent, apart from the sounds of John’s panicked yelling.

His eyes crinkle at the corners, indicating a smile, just as the perspective shifts back to Soap.

The man has made his way upstairs and is staring into the open bedroom door with fear in his eyes, but also some feral anger. That’s how he copes, it seems.

“This where you were stompin’ ‘round earlier? C’mon out!” He steps inside, looking around the room manically. “Show yourself! You wanna fight? I can fight! I can handle some scratches!”

Various threats of different levels are sent into the still room, yet this time, there’s no response, no footsteps.

Relief floods onto his face as the walkie-talkie crackles to life, and Ghost’s voice speaks up, “Your five minutes are up, now,”

“Coming!” Soap calls, and he rushes downstairs.

Three taps echo out from the bedroom just as he reaches the front door, and he’s rapidly closing it behind him to avoid dealing with that.

Once more, the camera shifts so they can get a proper view of the duo. Ghost walks over to help Soap out of his gear. “See many ghosts, MacTavish?”

“So many.” He grumbles.

Ghost snickers.

Once more, there’s a shift. John is now out of his gear, and Simon is standing with him, looking at the camera together.

“I think it’s fair to say it’s difficult to know what’s wrong with the Miller house,”

“Nothing. Bit old fashioned, though,” Simon hums.

“It’s spooky!” John insists.

Ghost chuckles.

“Well, whatever we believe, skeptic or not, there’s definitely a strange story that comes with the house,” Soap amends, shaking his head in fond amusement. “And I don’t think we found enough proof to swing it either way. So, for now, whether or not the Miller House is haunted remains… unsolved.”

Outro music begins to play, faint, at first, and it’s quiet enough to hear Ghost question ‘Is that a thing, now?’.

The video ends.

#im?? weirdly anxious abt posting this one #idk why but i dunno if i like it #but it fits my vision for it #ill just see how reception for it goes #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #john soap mactavish x simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #paranormal investigator au #buzzfeed unsolved au

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