#ghost call of duty

[bi-writes]

Okay but MOB sitting on Simon's lap, cuddling as they watch some movie Simon picked out because it was his turn. At one point she gets up and he thinks she's just going to use the restroom, hands on her hips to help stabilize her. Only instead of leaving, she turns around and sits on her knees between his legs. She bats her eyes at him but otherwise just soaking in how pretty he is. He probably makes a joke, says he loves her and when he still doesn't move figures she just wants a moment and continues to watch the screen.

When she finally works herself up to it, she starts sliding her hands up and down his thighs and just the sensation and imagery alone has him hard and he can't bring himself to ask her to stop when it feels so nice. Eventually her hands wander up further and she begins to play with the button of his jeans. Still not stopping her, even as she unbuttons and zips them down to pull out his erection. When he finally looks down, she stops and stares innocently up at him.

As soon as his attention's somewhat back up on the screen, she repositions herself and licks a stripe up his dick to bring his head into her mouth to swirl around. He doesn't even last that long and she doesn't let him pull her off when he comes.

Or something like that...

mail-order bride (18+)

simon likes action movies. they're his favorite, by far. he likes to watch the over-the-top car races in the middle of metropolitan cities, he likes big, stupid explosions and when the protagonist has their enemy at the end of their gun and says something cheesy like "you're not going anywhere now."

he told you once that he likes the simplicity. the happy endings. the key recovered, a family saved, the epic conclusion of an explosive journey that always ends in the bad guy in handcuffs and the good guy on a beach sipping a mai tai, getting the girl, saving the world.

you think maybe he likes it because it dampens reality. you have seen the aftermath of an op gone wrong; in this way, simon can fantasize just a little. he can pretend that there is nothing wrong with the world for 90 minutes or so.

what's so wrong with that?

he's so pretty.

he ran errands for you today. came back from the store with a paper bag in his hands, setting it down on the counter and unpacking it. you were sat at the kitchen counter, the orange cat wrapped up completely in a burrito of a towel so you could cut her dagger-like claws without risk of retaliation. simon was watching carefully out of the corner of his eye, but as he unpacked the bag, you had all but melted in your chair.

a refill of your favorite makeup remover (you were going to run out tonight, guaranteed). vitamins (ya look right sick, baby, drink y'r juice). your favorite brand of pads (just tell me which ones, i'll get it right, promise). sour sweets (cherry-flavored, of course, sour because he likes the face you make when you pop them into your mouth). when the last box hit the counter, you had dropped the cat, much to her relief.

condoms. fucking condoms.

no, he's not pretty. simon is so fucking hot.

he doesn't budge when you get up to put the empty popcorn bowl into the sink. when you come back in the room, simon is still staring at the television, eyes trained on the spy on screen hopping between rooftops as they dodge bullets. you bite your lip watching him, unable to stop thinking about simon, simon, simon.

he's wearing nice jeans. straight jeans, but even the extra give doesn't matter when your husband is made of pure muscle and fat. you can see his stomach through his shirt since it's tucked in, white fabric showing off that nice pudge that you love laying your head on, your palm, knowing how solid and strong he most certainly is. nghghhhh, and his arms--big, bulging, tattooed, a perfect canvas for colorful markers or glitter or maybe your tongue.

it's subconscious, really. the carpet is soft under your knees as you kneel at his feet, lowering yourself so you can blink up at him big and wide as he keeps his eyes on the movie. he does notice you, however; his big hand slides down his thigh, and your eyes flutter a little when he passes it over your head then down your face, a pretty little pet between his legs.

"not supposed to be on y'r knees f'me, baby," simon mutters, but you can't answer because his thumb slips into your mouth. you wrap your lips around it absentmindedly, running your tongue over the thick pad of it. "tha's my job."

you sit up on your knees, leaning over him, and he gives you his attention finally, a twitch of a smile as he bends his neck a little and kisses you warmly. you steady yourself by putting your hands on his thighs, gripping the meat of them firm as you slip your tongue into his mouth and draw a low grunt from deep within his chest.

"always working for me, simon," you whisper between kisses. "always..."

fuck, the blood rushes to his cock almost immediately. he has such a soft spot for you. taking care of you, doing things for you, buying you what you need--it makes him so fucking hard thinking about fulfilling every need of yours. you deserve nothing but nice dreams, good meals, happy cats, a well-loved pussy, all the love his broken heart can give. he chubs up in his pants every time you ask him for something.

can you carry this for me, simon?

oh, i need some help with this, baby, just here...

can you get me more of this? i'm about to run out.

the zipper is stuck, simon...can you get me out of this?

ugh, you're his walking wet dream. and you're kneeling in between his legs, his sweet girl pouting up at him, and--oh, fuck--

your hands are soft under his shirt. you've untucked it just enough, your warm fingers sliding along the band of his jeans. he hisses a little, his body stiffening, and you smooth a thumb over his belt before kissing him again.

"you're so pretty, simon," you whisper, and he licks over your bottom lip in response, drawing a soft whine out of you. his thighs widen just a little when he hears the clink of his belt, feeling the waistband loosen as you draw it out from the loops and toss it onto the carpet behind you. "such a handsome man you are..."

"come off it," simon growls a little, and you giggle, freeing the button and slipping your hand down. his mouth falls open in a silent moan as you cup him with a hot hand, fingers sliding under his length to fondle his balls.

"mmm..." you follow his sputtering mouth, breathing him in. "actually, simon...i really, really wanna get on it..."

"wot a brat," simon murmurs, clicking his tongue. "can't be fuckin' patient--ahh!"

you pull him out of his jeans with a firm tug before sticking your tongue out and kneeling back down to lick a curious stripe up the underside of him. simon is pulsing, radiating heat and already leaking beads of stringy pre-cum, and as you suck the tip of him into your mouth, you realize just how thick your husband really is.

you've never seen him quite this naked, quite this up close. when he fucked your thighs, he had felt big, but his cock is truly making a space for itself in your mouth--

"ah!" you gasp as he fists your hair and pulls you off, leaning down to kiss you hard.

"baby--"

"i want it--" you whimper, using your hands, letting the spit from your mouth drip down his cock as your fingers spread it wide, pumping him softly. "simon, please! please! you always say...always say i can have whatever i want, please..."

when he lets your hair go, you dive. you suck him into your mouth, practically purring as you press him back into the couch and suck. he tastes like a man should, like a husband should, musk and a little sweat and just enough soap to have you a little light-headed. with the first bob of your head, simon shudders, a big hand cupping the back of your neck as he drops his chin to his chest to watch you. he uses his other hand to push your hair back, his mouth falling open a little as he watches your eyes roll back in your head as you try to fit more of him into your mouth.

your mouth squelches with every bob. spit gathers around the edges of your mouth, little globs dripping out as you slurp and flick your tongue over every vein and soft patch of skin. you're making a mess of him, all soft mouth and wiggly tongue and gentle moans that make him seize up.

it's not even a minute of your soft sucking, and simon is caught off guard by his own release. he wants to apologize, but you look so fucking pretty, coughing a little around his wet cock.

you don't stop then either.

some of it drips down around your hands, his own cum webbing between your fingers and getting onto the front of your shirt and staining his jeans, but you keep your mouth on him. you nuzzle the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek, pull off just enough to suck so softly on the tip of him.

"baby, fuck--" simon chokes, watching you through lidded, hazy eyes. "please, fuck--"

"i want it," you whisper, smoothing a wet hand down his length. he's getting hard all over again, and he nearly cums a second time when you let your eyes find his and pepper kisses from the tip of him all the way to the base. "don't i get w-whatever i want, simon? c-can't i...can't i have more?"

simon chuckles a little. he uses his thumb to swipe a glob of cum off your chin, bringing it up to his own mouth to suck off with a snort.

"you want more, baby?" simon asks, and you sit back up on your knees, pressing your forehead to his as he eyes your lips. they're a tad swollen, kiss-bitten and wet. "wot more do ya want, hmm? wot is it my wife wants so much, huh?"

you smile, wide, those big eyes sparkling. you give him another slow stroke with your hand, and he hisses, gritting his teeth as he watches your smile get just that much bigger.

"i want you to stop playing games with me, simon," you say softly. "you'll never win. so just give me what i deserve."

"wot you deserve?"

"don't i deserve you, simon?" you ask, and when he fails to answer, you swipe your thumb over his cock, drawing a cracked groan out of him. "you won't make me beg, will you, simon?"

"no," simon pants, leaning further into you, pressing his face to yours. "never. my wife doesn't beg for anythin'."

"you promise, simon?"

"my wife gets woteva she fuckin' asks for. olways."

[melh1art]

I'm in a playful mood today ฅᨐฅ

gorgeous reference!!! -`♡´-

[lxvvie]

Ghost who wants you—commands you—to have your way with him.

"Use me, sweetheart."

It's your hand clutching his close-cropped hair, pulling him close, and bloody hell, he's right where he needs to be, face buried—no, he's fuckin' smothered between your soft thighs. You don't hear it, you feel it, his hum of pleasure reverberating throughout your body, his greedy tongue making you jump some, clutch his head even tighter, and grab onto anything else you can to keep your balance.

Your soldier couldn't care less. No thoughts. Just wanna be used. Just want to suck and fuck and kiss and make you cum. Want to taste you, want you to invade his senses, love.

It's Simon grabbing your thighs when you try to move away because he knows you're close.

"It's too much, Si..." "Stop fuckin' movin'."

It's Simon upping the ante because he wants you to cum on his face and wants to taste you when he lights up. " 'm right here," Simon coaxes you, harsh grunts aplenty and breathless, "Cum on me, love."

Wish granted.

You're left panting, catching your breath, and trying to keep steady while Simon lights his cigarette on the third try, slightly trembling from the intensity of his own orgasm (fuck, he loved these jeans). It's Simon, dark eyes boring into yours as his ciggy dangles from his lips, sated, used, and ready for more as he inhales the nicotine, tastes your cum, and bloody fuckin' hell, he's intoxicated.

And all his senses are invaded by you.

[ink-n-shadow]

i saw this post about types "talking you through your orgasms" and i had to discuss the types that the 141 men would be. i couldn't stop myself

[ TALKING YOU THROUGH IT ] 𝜗𝜚 the one about how the CoD men talk you through your orgasms

𝜗𝜚 characters: john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley (reader is gender neutral) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), praise kink, dirty talk, slightly mean!simon, unedited 𝜗𝜚 a/n: lmk how we feel about the slightly different format (i'm still making edits but)

john price is definitely cooing softly in your ear about just how pretty you look, just how sweet your hole looks stretched out on three of his thick fingers, just how beautiful you look with drool slicking down your chin and unshed tears clinging to your lashes. “fuck, jus’ look at ya, doll—so fuckin’ pretty all split open on my hand, yeah? no, don't close yer thighs when ya come—wanna see how pretty y'look when ya tighten up 'round my fingers." doesn’t stop praising you or blabbering on about how pretty you look even after his softening cock slips out from between your thighs, his spend tricking out of your used hole and your tearstained face hidden away in the crook of his neck.

kyle garrick is the giggling kind, nose buried deep in the hair at your temple and his lips curled up into a smarmy grin as the rough pads of his fingers glide across the slick, molten flesh of your arousal with practiced ease. "feels good, yeah? got your legs just right tremblin', 'nd I've barely even started, sweetheart. shhh, shhh—'m only teasin', baby. tell me how good it feels." and he's totally the type to make you keep talking as he bullies his fingers into your heat, stopping every single time your words jumble together and your whiny moans begin to overpower your coherence. "keep talkin'—y'don't want me to stop, do you? s'what i thought—go on, then. what were you saying about my fingers hitting something just right?"

johnny mactavish is the condescending kind, azure eyes focusing on the way your eyes slowly cross as another orgasm ravages your nerve-endings and makes a scoff fall from his lips. "again, birdie? dinnae think y'had it in ya—how many's tha'? three, right?" but he's not slowling the pace of his thick fingers as they continue practically carving out your insides, fingertips mashing against that one spot that had your brain melting out your ears and moans slipping off your tongue. even the kiss he leaves against your forehead seems condescending, a knowing grin on his face as he feels your gooey insides gripping onto his fingers tighter. "yeah, tha's right—gimme a fourth. y'can do it, birdie—then i'll fuck my cock into ya, i promise."

simon riley is the (sometimes, not all the time) degrading kind, honeyed eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of your bed as he forces you to watch the way his fingers disappear between your slick thighs. "look at tha', pet—greedy fuckin' hole, innit? already got three fingers 'nd you're practically beggin' for more, huh?" you would've answered him if he hadn't have stuffed your underwear between your lips, your eyes fighting to stay opened as your toes begin curling in the impending crest of your high—only for simon to rip his fingers from your fluttering hole, instead shoving the lube-covered fingers into your mouth until his middle finger brushes the back of your throat and the underwear slips out amongst the gagging. "didn't say y'could cum, did i? no (shaking your head for you with his fingers still buried in the back of your throat), don't think i did. knew you were a greedy lil thing—c'mere, be a good pet and suck me off."

[lanialania00]

Ghost thought he could drink at the same level as two mexicans and a scotsman.

[machveil]

Husband!Simon Riley that doesn’t wear chapstick unless you kiss him. preferably, you’d be wearing the chapstick - don’t worry, if you’re not he carries a spare in his back pocket, just put some on, lovie

Husband!Simon Riley that lets you paint his nails. he likes a simple clear coat, or a matt black, but he prefers a color that matches your eyes. despite his precision with handling guns and knives, his hands get a little shaky when he paints your nails. he silently psychs himself out because he doesn’t want to mess up

Husband!Simon Riley that stops by your favorite fast food place after a grocery run so you can have a little treat. he has your go-to order in his notes app and under your contact information. plays dumb when you get excited, “S’nothing special, just eat.”

[evilgwrl]

Simon across the country getting irritated when you let it slip that you’re not taking care of yourself….leads to a million FaceTime calls, texts, reminders and one hell of a homecoming.

“My sweet girl, you’ve been using that brain too much huh? Let me fix that,” hehehehehe

I NEED this thanks

It wasn’t all your fault. You were a busy girl, always working overtime and handling difficult tasks and situations. Having Simon around just made things easier for you. When he wasn’t busy kicking ass in the Military, he was with you, looking after you and (all) your needs. You had grown used to it.

That didn’t really serve as a good explanation to him when you let it slip however.

“What do you mean you haven’t eaten properly in two days?”

“Pot noodles are enough, I just haven’t had the time or energy-“

“You think that’s enough? Jesus, love, what’s been keeping you so busy?”

“Work- I haven’t had the time to do anything, I’m so used to you being here that when you go, it’s hard to adapt.”

You could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he was unhappy, a stare of disappointment thrown at you before you hung up, chasing after an errand for your incapable boss.

The next several days were a series of FaceTime calls and texts, practically yelling at you to look after yourself, or for the most part, eat a proper meal.

The poor man was worried sick, barely having enough reception to order you food, and when he did, you were impossible to get ahold of.

You would check your phone every couple of hours, another message flashing with the repeated words of, ‘Take a break.’ He was never much for emotion over the phone but you knew he was worried. He cared more about you and your wellbeing than anything.

It didn’t help your case either when Simon got off deployment early to surprise you, and he found you huddled over your laptop, frantically typing with a strained look on your face.

“What did I say about taking care of yourself, hm?”

You practically jumped out of your skin, eyes flashing wide before you jumped up, practically sobbing into his arms in a heap.

“You’re home early, I missed you,” you frowned, trying to hide how poorly you had been without him. He knew.

His lips pressed into your forehead, skin broiling with heat as it reacted to the simplicity of his touch.

“My sweet girl, you’ve been using that brain too much, huh? Let me fix that.”

You were practically a mess in his arms, body merging into the sheets as you whined, puffy clit sucked into his mouth with an exasperated suck, your legs curled around his beefy shoulders.

“Si- so good, don’t stop please-“

His tongue was rapid, diving into your whining hole with pleasure as his hands found your chest, groping the flesh as your hardened nipples rubbed against his palm.

Your sheets were soaked, both by sweat and your slick as you writhed against him, bucking your hips feverishly before coming with a loud moan, vocal chords singing out at the immense pleasure that was wracking through you.

It was good to have Simon home.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Lying on the ground dramatically: Ahhh, I'm hurt! I need help! Soap, at their side: What happened? Y/N: Ahh, I need help, but specifically from Simon only Soap: What? But I can- Y/N: No please don't strain yourself. Ahhh, Simon I'm hurt, carry me!

[oceantornadoo]

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

you tell him it has to stay hidden. you can't be known as "the girl fucking the lieutenant", no matter if you're the same rank as him, the same sweat and tears put into the job. it scares you, the thought of losing decades of hard work over some stupid fling with a man they call ghost. a man who brings you tea on your sick days, a man with soft eyes and a listening ear, the only man who's ever brought you to orgasm. the push and pull of your autonomy and your love is ever growing, that bone deep fear rooted in your marrow.

simon's scared too. scared of waking up and it's all a dream. scared that his enemies will find out, scared that it'll show he isn't so dead after all. he's been a rotting thing on earth for nearly four decades and he's comfortable with it; no matter how alive you make him feel. his hand on your waist feels right, but he can't bring his heart into the light.

so you call each other "lieutenant." maybe "riley" when he pisses you off, just to get under his skin. "dove" is rare, but it warms you up just the same, gives you an unbidden vision of hot chocolate and snow days. mainly its "l.t.", remnant of johnny, the respect and friendliness woven together sweetly. you murmured "babe" to him once, in the early morning when he sneaks out, and felt his shoulders bunch, the weight of it too much to bear. that was the end of pet names, or so you thought.

--

it's a foggy day on what becomes the worst night of your life. the mission is at a standstill, the intel outdated. you were supposed to be taking out a terrorist organization, blowing up the base of their operations, but instead the building is damp and abandoned, echoes of life the only sign they were here. price is in your ear, telling you to clear one last room and retreat, simon already on his way out. you nudge your way into the room with caution, years of practiced steps coming to you on instinct. for some reason, you don't catch the glint of a stranger's eye in a hidden corner. you don't see the rope in his hands, the knife between his teeth. the next thing you see is the floor, fog seeping over concrete as rough hands gag you and mutter promises of ungodly harm.

something's wrong. "price." simon murmurs soft and low, crossing out of the building to the tree cover below. "where is she? s'pposed t' be out by now." he's scanning the building through his scope, looking for that figure he knows so well, could find blind. "copy. 'er tracker says she's still in the buildin'. let's-" there's a piercing scream in the air. the ravens take flight from the trees. dark wings, dark words. "ghost-" "goin' in." a sigh on the other end. he can practically feel price's hesistancy but he doesn't care, heavy feet already moving back into the building. "you're goin' in blind, radar's jus' gone out." he swears under his breath, clearing hallway after hallway as the building falls back into silence. just as he comes upon a 4-way split, you scream again, the sound far away and to his left. "'m comin' dove, hold on." there's no gunfire, no sounds of fight. it's so eerie he thinks he might have dreamed it, his worst nightmare come true. his instincts lead the way, some knowledge of your location hidden in his blood. pop. finally a gunshot, and if he squints hard, he tries to imagine it being from your weapon. he's close, nostrils expanding at the scent of you, memorized even without your favored perfume.

there were four of them. you still can't believe you missed them, the thought in the back of your head as you fight for your life. scrambling from the rope one tries to force on you, becoming an eel as you slip out of their grasps. this is what you do, what you're trained for. until someone stomps down hard on your ankle, the force of it cracking straight through. you scream, can't help it, searing pain blinding your vision for precious seconds. they take advantage of it, gloved hands tying your own behind your back in a tight knot. you can't reach your comms so you scream again, this one out of frustration, desperation that your team, that simon, might not find you.

the big one shuts you up with a hand to your throat, a bruising grip that leaves you unable to speak. they aren't well trained, fumbling hands and shaky grips, and you're finally able to reach your holster, shooting the first between the eyes before you can even glimpse his face. now you're in your element, adrenaline covering the pain of your ankle as you fight back, shooting one after the other, digging out your knife for close combat. it's over in a blink, the men no match for your skills, and once you double check they're dead, you collapse in the corner, the pain of your ankle roaring. that's when you hear it.

"baby?" it's him (but it can't be). he's never called you that. you pretend not to see when he whispers it into your neck as you feign sleep, when he murmurs it in a grunt as he's deep in your cunt. he's never said it to your face. "baby!" it's definitely him, that gruff voice cutting across the fog. you whine out of frustration, your throat too sore from your attacker to call out. instead, you limp to the door, almost running into simon as he comes crashing into your own personal hell. he sweeps you into his arms and you let him, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he's real.

"y' hurt?" he takes a look around the room, at the carnage in your wake. "my brave girl." you're sobbing, unsure whether its from frustration or relief. still can't believe you got caught, feeling like such a stereotype to have your knight in shining armor rescue you. "handled them all y'rself, hm, baby?" he's all sweetness and it hurts, seeing his eyes swell in pride as he takes in the four dead men, gunshots and a knife sticking out of one's eye. "why- why are you calling me that, simon?" he's ushering you out, your arm around his neck as you limp towards freedom. "proud of you." he says it simply, eyes trained on potential threats, not watching your reaction.

"aye, i told you, gaz. ye owe me a drink." soap's voice crackles through the comms. they were on. which meant your team heard the whole thing, heard simon practically claim you, knew you were together, thought you were a slu- "she's too good for him. i don't believe it." gaz's voice replied. "bugger off." simon grumbled into the mic, the sounds of them snickering loud and clear. "good?" he turned back at you, stopping you before you approached the clearing where your team waited. his eyes told you something different, that he'd walk out of here right now if you wanted. the cock of his head meant he'd follow you anywhere, live off the lamb for decades if you wanted. that was all you needed to know. you nodded and pushed forward. "yeah, i'm good, baby."

--

this is SO CRINGE but it's been in my drafts forever and needed to start paying rent

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 8

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce; hurt; angst; anger; slight drinking; rollercoaster of emotion; sadness; mentions of therapy/counseling; a jealous and possessive Ghost;

Read Part 1 for my author notes for the beginning of this story if this is your first time here.

The first week Simon was gone, you cried like a baby each night. Without him there following you around like a puppy, you couldn't help but be in your head thinking about whether you made the right decision to stay or not. Ava had answered your call every night as you bawled into the phone about how stupid you were. You loved him. You loved him so much it physically hurt.

Love. That word word was going to kill you.

In the second week, you wanted to knock yourself out with how much your emotions switched up. One moment, you were on the verge of texting Simon a long goodbye message, and the next... you were thinking about how things would be when he got back. Did he miss you? Was he being safe? God he better. You thought you'd be even more pissed off he wasn't.

The only good thing that came from the first two weeks was your counseling sessions. Instead of having just one individual session in the week, you had two since Simon was away. You opened up more about your past, getting a lot of things off your chest that you never talked about before... even your childhood.

It was something you were looking forward to the morning you got up from a sleepless dream. Your body pranced around the apartment getting dressed, your mind not even realizing you were like a giddy teenager. You felt.... happy.

Three weeks had passed, and your husband would be returning later in the day. Even if you didn't know how you'd be when you saw him, the thought that he was coming back to you had a stupid grin on your face.

It was no surprise after your session, you walked out of the room with a little bit more pep in your step. Only a few more hours or so and then you'd see Simon.

"Mrs. Riley?" an unknown voice called out to you.

You turned around, almost expecting it to be the chaplain, but were confused when a man in military uniform walked up to you. He was tall - not as tall as your husband - but tall nonetheless. His somewhat thin figure and slightly baby face made your eyebrows furrow a little, trying to figure out if you had ever met him before.

"Yes?"

His silvery eyes lit up as he cocked an eyebrow, "Damn.. didn't think you'd still answer to that," he responded, a smirk splayed across his lips.

Deep confusion rippled over your face as you stood there in the hallway. For a second, you thought he might have been thinking you were someone else, but when he made no motion to move, you opened your mouth.

"Excuse me?"

A sharp chuckle left his lips that were still smirking; mocking in a way, "Well you know... with your husband cheating on you and all."

Your eyes widened, and an uneasy feeling began to creep into your chest as you opened your mouth to say something but quickly shut it. A moment went by as his eyes darkened in a way that made you subconsciously take a step back.

"H-how do you-?"

"Know?" he hummed, tilting his head to the side a little in the way a dog would do, "Those videos weren't easy to watch, were they? Having to watch your loving husband be with another woman." He said as he took a step closer to you.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat before nervously licking your lips that became dry, "Who-who are you?"

It was as if he was waiting for that question to spill out of your mouth, "Jax," he stuck his hand out for you to shake, only for you to glance down at it in semi-disgust. He chuckled, dropping his hand back down to his side, "Believe me... I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Yeah?" you sarcastically asked, making him hum, "Then what the fuck do you want?"

He nonchalantly shrugged, "Payback."

"Payback? For what?" you took another step back, crossing your arms over your chest, only for him to take another step closer, invading your personal space.

"Your fucking husband thinks he's better than us," he whispered, face so close to yours you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him, "Just caused he decided to stick his dick in Pvt Williams doesn't give him the right to send her away because he fucked up. He walks around like he's above everybody... when really he's just a bloody wannabe. Isn't even man enough to show his face."

What the fuck was he talking about?

You looked at him like he'd grown two heads as he stared back at you like you were a prize he just won. Your mouth opened to say something, however you paused. Something seemed to set in as you thought about what he said earlier.

"You... sent me the videos?"

"Now y'thinking... trust me... I thought you'd see them and leave his ass the next day. I mean, I would if I were you. I'm surprised you still have that ring on," he pointed to the wedding band on your finger, "But it doesn't matter what I think yeah? You must still love him. Or you're too weak and afraid to leave."

If your eyes weren't wide before, they certainly did then. You should have known this guy was just getting under your skin to provoke a reaction and use it against your husband... but instead you let his words consume you.

"I don't know what issues you have with my husband," you said as you stepped forward, voice laced with anger, "but stay the fuck away from me." You turned around and all but ran out of the building, leaving the man standing there with that fucking smirk on his face.

************************************************************************

When Simon walked through the door of the apartment, a part of him was expecting that you'd be there with open arms to welcome him home. But he knew better... he'd read that note you'd given him so many times while he was gone he damn near knew it word for word. Specifically your feelings about wanting to work on the marriage.

What he wasn't expecting was a very cold and distant demeanor from you. He reluctantly was getting used to you avoiding him - which he greatly hated - but this felt different.

"You alright, sweetheart?" he asked when he found you in the kitchen, standing next to the sink. A glass of wine in your hand as you seemed spaced out in thought. He pulled his balaclava off, setting it on the counter.

Any other time, you would have been quiet. You had barely asked him anything since all this began. A lot that was talked about in therapy was focused on trying to remember the good of the past and move toward the future. The few questions you did ask were about how you wanted to move forward.

But after your talk earlier... the floodgates were opening.

"Who's Jax?" your eyes snapped up at him.

"What?"

"Jax? Do you know him?"

If his expression changed, you didn't catch it fully. The only hint that he did give was the slight narrowing of his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, not even answering your question.

You shrugged, taking another sip of your wine, "Nothing... just told me that he sent me the videos."

"He did what?" his voice raising a little.

"Mmhmm..... You know-" a sour chuckle escaped your lips, "- this whole time, I thought that bitch sent them to me. Fuck, I thought she wanted me to see how you really enjoyed shaggin' her. But boy was I wrong..."

He stepped closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your arm, "Sweetheart-"

"What was so fucking special about her Simon?!" you exclaimed, "Huh? How come you went to her? I'm your fucking wife! You didn't even ask me what I wanted! You like fucking rough, but what about me?! You don't think I can handle it?! Is that it?! Am I ugly to you?! What did I do to you, Simon??"

It was as if the seal had broken. Question after question spilled from your mouth, not letting him get a word in as you kept going. All he could do was stand there and watch as all of the pent-up anger you held back bubbled up to the surface. He told himself he wanted to know what you were really thinking, and he was finally getting it.

"Sometimes I don't even feel like you want me! Like I'm not yours-" you continued, only for him to stop you.

"Y're mine," he said, desperation laced in his voice, closing the gap between you two.

"Am I? You sure? Because all I keep seeing is you with her! In my fucking dreams! When I look at you! All the time!-" You threw your arms up in the air, "- Am I really yours?!"

"Yes," he answered with no hesitation.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You couldn't stand to be in the house for now. You needed to get out for a bit. He tried to catch your wrist as you walked past, but you yanked it away as you marched straight to the ensuite bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

Pulling out your phone, you sent a text to Ava asking if she would go out with you. You didn't say where, but she agreed anyway, saying she'd get dressed. After several agonizing minutes had passed, you heard the front door open and shut - not so softly - as Simon left.

Fuck.

************************************************************************

When Johnny walked into the pub where Simon asked him to meet him, he wasn't surprised to find his lieutenant sitting at the bar having a glass of his usual bourbon. But he was surprised to see that two empty glasses were already in front of him and he was working on his third one.

"L.T.," he said as he sat down, making Simon glance up from his drink, "You good mate?"

The man hummed in response, raising his balaclava up over his nose to take another sip of his bourbon. Johnny ordered himself a Scotch before eyeing his friend. Something had happened... that he was certain of. And if he guessed, it had something to do with you.

When the bartender placed his glass in front of him and walked away to tend to other patrons, Simon finally spoke, "That fuckin' private talked to Y/n,"

Johnny's face morphed into confusion, "What private?"

"Jax."

"What?" Simon didn't have to respond. His silence was all the confirmation that was needed. "What happened?"

He shrugged, "Said he sent her the videos. But I don't know what else. She didn't tell me."

"I thought you talked to him," Johnny remembered the conversation they had when Simon claimed he wanted to kill the guy.

A grunt left his lips, "Fucker went on leave before I had the chance to catch him."

Johnny hummed, thinking about the sticky situation, "What'd she say after that?"

The lieutenant took another sip of his drink, "Said she feels like she's not mine. Asked about Williams."

He briefly rubbed the back of his neck before carefully saying his next words, "Ghost, you can't blame her for how she feels."

"I know that, Johnny."

He sighed, "You have to give her time. She's hurt. She loves you, but she's hurt."

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose as a sigh left his own lips before pulling the balaclava down over his face again. His phone vibrated on the bar top, and he grabbed it, seeing a message displayed on the screen.

Y/n: Gone out. Be home later

Out???

Simon: Where are you going?

As the seconds ticked, he felt his stomach twist in an uncomfortable knot.

Y/n: Don't worry about it

That twist went from uncomfortable to almost painful. Johnny, who had been leaning over to get a better view of the messages, tried to calm his friend down.

"L.T.," he said, but Simon didn't hear him. His eyes were glued to the screen on his phone.

Simon: Sweetheart please don't do this

Y/n: See you when I get home Simon

His hand clenched around the phone tightly as he felt his pulse quicken. His breathing was muffled by the balaclava, but underneath, his nose flared, and his jaw tensed so much he could have chipped a tooth.

He rose up from his seat so harshly the stool made a loud scrape noise across the floor. But he didn't care, he was pulling cash out of his pocket to pay the bartender for his drinks and grabbing his keys.

"Ghost," Johnny tried getting his attention once more, only to be ignored.

Simon's boots stomped across the room as he left the pub... his Sergeant trailing right behind him, calling his name out again.

Think I threw a curve ball in here without realizing until I was proofreading lol! Don't you hate when you think of the next part of the story you're writing but something else pops in your head and you're like "yes let me add it" lol! I have no idea of adding Jax to this story was a good idea so let me know lol!

Feedback always welcomed :)

Taglist: @kalypsoox @fruitymoonbeams-blogz @kylies-love-letter @xrosegoldwolfx @linaaaaa654@jessicab1991 @darkravenqueen98 @yazyazali @thychuvaluswife @5starbullshittery @azazel-nyx @firefoxkairan @devonsworld @theclassicvinyldragon

[melh1art]

:(

[bluvp]

Identities unknown.

[the-palelady]

listen. if you don’t like sabrina carpenter that’s fine, but that woman’s outfits are so stunning and i can just imagine ghost going absolutely mad seeing you in them.

especially in something like THIS. that man would go absolutely fucking feral.

normally he would be ripping your cute little outfits and lingerie at the seams, but oh no, not this one. the baby blue just looked so perfect, hugging your curves in all the right places. he had to keep this outfit safe no matter the cost.

one night, you slip it on right before he comes home from work, and set yourself up all pretty for him. your hair fanning out across your face, skin glowing, an angel amongst a sea of blankets and pillows right there on top of his bed.

simon’s angel.

and oh he is on his knees for you.

he’d worship every last inch of your body. those perfect, round tits that he’d suck into his mouth eagerly. he’d kiss down the plump of your tummy, the dip of your hips, until he’s nestled in between your legs.

he’d kiss along your inner thighs, moving his thumb up to rub at your sensitive nub, your back arching up into him, whining out his name like the pretty little thing you were.

simon would take his time with you. always does. he doesn’t want to hurt his girl when he finally does settle himself in between your legs, his cock heavy and sliding against your folds. the lingerie is still on, panties tugged to the side around his thumb.

“all this for me?” he’d ask in that deep, loving voice, reserved only for you. strands of his golden hair, that have grown out a bit more than usual, stick to his forehead. a handsome grin is plastered along his scarred face, lust filled eyes gleam down at you and you’d whine.

god you loved him so much.

and he’d let you know he felt the same, wrapping his hands around the curve of your waist while he pressed himself into you. pressed himself into heaven.

“look at ya. so pretty.” you swear you hear him whine.

“takin’ me so well like a good girl.” this time you whine.

his thumb comes up to rub at your clit again while he pistons into you relentlessly. his tip hits that sweet spot so deep inside that you see stars and he backs off for a moment before hitting it over and over again.

your moans only encourage him further, his free hand roaming you like he can’t keep off of you, can’t get enough of you.

he grabs your jaw, your lips pursing from his grip. simon looks down at you with an expression so feral you could have orgasmed from that alone.

“gunna fill ya fulla me, sweet’art, that alright?”

you whine and beg for him.

yes. please, simon. inside, please.

“sing for me, angel. i wanna hear tha pretty voice.”

and you do sing for him. his name falling from your lips like a hymn, a gentle song only meant for his ears. simon can’t help but hold onto you tighter, gruff hands digging into the meat of your hips as you clench around him so tight he feels dizzy.

and he all but loses his damn mind, fucking you into the mattress despite how overstimulated you are. tears stain your pink cheeks and he thumbs them away, pressing into you so far you can feel him in your guts.

simon’s rambling, his forehead pressing into your temple as you cry out, your tears dampening his cheeks.

“ya look like a fucking goddess in this damn outfit. so beautiful. dunno wha tha fuck i did in my past life, but damned brute like me doesn’t deserve ya.”

he won’t stop talking. it’s all so much, yet the praise is sending you over the moon. your skin is on fire where his thrusts meet your ass, and you know there will be purple hand shaped bruises blooming along the expanse of your body when the morning comes.

“fuckkk,” his hips stutter slightly, your core becoming tight as he pulls himself completely out and slams himself right back to the hilt continuously.

“gunna breed this pretty pussy,” and you clench around him so fucking tight he almost collapses, a guttural moan escaping his chapped lips.

“ya like that, baby? want me to make ya a mummy?”

your back arches and you scream for him, white consuming your vision. simon’s hands grab ahold of your plump thighs and his hips roll down into you one last time. he twitches inside of your warmth while his spend coats your velvety walls. his arms reach up to wrap around your torso that’s still arched, his forehead pressing into your ribs as he catches his breath.

you both sit this way for a while, until he regains his composure and lowers your tired body back down to the bed.

when he sits up right your eyes are closed, long lashes tickling the apples of your blushing cheeks. your breathing is even now, and your skin is somehow glowing even more than it was when he first walked in. your hair cascades out around you like a wave. his palm hesitantly glides up along your tummy as if taboo. as if someone like him was undeserving of someone as soft as you.

and simon swears when he looks up at you, taking you in completely, he sees the glow of a halo above your head and a pair of angel wings nestled against the silk sheets of the bed beneath you.

[ghouldtime]

Who was going to tell me that Captain John Price is ONLY THIRTY EIGHT

(I am talking about reboot Price for reference as he seems to be the most popular one)

I'm not making this up

I am floored, I am stunned

I swear to anything I thought he was late 40's early 50's but NOPE

Everyone writes him like he's one good breeze away from falling down the stairs and being in a nursing home. HE'S THIRTY EIGHT???

I'm still calling him peepaw irregardless cause it's funny but I'm losing my mind

For the record thirty eight isn't that old y'all. I'm so tired of people pretending like it is. That's not even fully middle aged. A lot of the COD men are middle aged to just about. Ghost is likely mid to upper thirties possibly around 40, Captain Price is (apparently) 38, König is likely upper thirties to mid 40's (he's probably in his 40's tbh), Keegan is 35, and the list goes on and on. The youngest would be Gaz (who is a bit older than Soap iirc) and Soap who is 26. A lot of operators will be close to if not middle aged, especially higher ranking ones

Let me have my middle age men. You can pry them from my cold, dead hands. I beg of you stop making them younger just for the sake of it outside of AUs because no one can accept that they're mostly not young dudes. Except with Price who apparently everyone decided has got a fast past to being geriatric where he's ready to fall asleep on the couch in his underwear watching the telly with a cold one in hand when it's 2pm on a Tuesday (same tho but in spirit that sounds nice)

(( AUs are great tho keep doing you're thing there and I love seeing AUs like when Ghost was just a Private. Those are so fun))

TL;DR what the hell Price isn't even that old?? and STOP MAKING THEM ALL IN THEIR TWENTIES OUTSIDE OF AUs PLEASE. They're mostly in their thirties and forties and that's okay and wonderful and I love that about them

[machveil]

Boyfriend!Simon Riley and Johnny are a package deal, even more so if Johnny is Simon’s roommate

Boyfriend!Simon Riley trusts Johnny to take care of you just as much as he does. while Simon is affectionate through subtle touches and quick kisses, Johnny is an absolute lapdog for you. watching tv with the boys often leads to cuddling with Simon, his arm tucked around you, while Johnny rests his head on your thighs, a hand idly resting on your knee

Boyfriend!Simon Riley that likes grocery shopping with you and Johnny. while Simon is making sure everything on the list is taken care of, he always cracks a smile when he sees Johnny - hands gripping the trolley, you sat in the center, running through the aisles. he almost had a heart attack when you both toppled over, Johnny tripping over his feet causing the trolley to tip over

Boyfriend!Simon Riley who often has to play ‘bad cop’, watching as Johnny eggs you on. Johnny, ever the devil on your shoulder, playing innocent while Simon scolds him - he promises he won’t pester either of you, fingers crossed behind his back and a playful glint in his eyes

[uglygirltrying]

barbarian!ghost x princess!reader

barbarian!ghost who threatened a weak christian king, with his fierce army. barbarian!ghost only wanted a great part of the kings land, but instead, the king offered him a different deal. barbarian!ghost would get the kings eldest daughter, in order not to lose his land. how can one turn down such an offer? princess!reader whose weak minded and scared father, basically sold her to a savage. a dirty, barbaric, savage man. all that and more. princess!reader who could only cry and beg to her mother, as barbarian!ghost was hauling her pretty ass on his horse. princess!reader who scoffed at barbarian!ghost's name, when he introduced himself. barbarian!ghost who smirked when princess!reader finally stopped weeping, and began to insult him. at least she wouldn't bore him. princess!reader who enjoyed her time 'alone', as her handmaidens bathed her, until barbarian!ghost walked into the room. barbarian!ghost who shooed the maids out of the room, before undressing and stepping into the tub with the young princess. princess!reader who could feel a fat cock pressing against her back, and calloused fingers sneaking between her legs. princess!reader who couldn't help but shiver and let out a whine, when a finger pressed on her clit. barbarian!ghost who chuckled meanly at the princess' reaction, putting more pressure on the little nub between her soft thighs. princess!reader whose legs shook as the pressure in her belly only got worse, the fuzzy feeling confusing her enough, to grab onto the barbarian's arm for comfort. barbarian!ghost who felt sweet enough to give her a kiss on the forehead, as he continued to rub the princess' clit, until she gave him her first orgasm. barbarian!ghost who whispers promises of good life, and taking care of the princess, into her ear, before taking the girl into his arms and carrying her to bed.