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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Bratty!Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Tired of your antics regarding how cavalier you take your sexual relationship, your lieutenant cuts you off and that has you immediately plotting. You know you can get him to break and all it'll take is one purchase. How can he keep his resolve when he sees what you've bought? And how will he act when he catches you?

Word Count: 6.8 k

Warnings:

The office is silent now except for the distant sounds of movement filtering in from outside the door of people coming and going through the building. Your shirt clings in a rumpled mess to your body, sweat speckling across your limbs from that specific heat that gets shared between two bodies, euphoria still running through your veins when the man sitting beneath you speaks. “We’re not doin’ this again, so get that straight. Understand?”

You tilt your head to the side and raise a curious eyebrow, staring back into the face of your lieutenant as he gets you to your feet and grabs his shirt to throw it back over his head, covering his sweat-glistening torso. “Care to explain what you’re talking about or am I meant to just guess?” you ask with snark in your tone as you pick up the rest of your clothing off the floor.

Buttoning his pants and re-buckling his belt, he takes his time before answering as you finish and stand there impatient and agitated. “What the fuck did I say about startin’ stuff with me when I’m busy?” Lt. Riley questions back, his voice harsh. “Did ya think I was jokin’ or are ya just hell bent on gettin’ caught? Cause that’s what’s gonna fuckin’ happen if ya keep temptin’ me in the middle of the day.”

“You could turn me away,” you say with a roll of your eyes, “ever heard of self-control?”

Stepping up close to your body, the lieutenant grabs you by the chin and looks down his nose at you. “You’re too much of a distraction. And ya need to be taught a lesson, sweetheart; when I say somethin’ I fuckin’ mean it. Consider this my self-control.”

“Oh, gonna punish me now?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you pull your face out of his grasp with a flick of your head. “Okay, go ahead. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ya ain’t gettin’ nothin’ from me til I can be sure you’re gonna listen. You’re cut off, sweetheart, and until ya can learn, we’re done with this.”

You hold his gaze steadfast, not intimidated in the least. If he wants to play this game, then you’ll play it, but if he thinks this is going to end the way he wants, he is going to be sorely mistaken. “Fine.” You don’t argue, there is no sense to. “Have it your way, sir. Is that all?”

You’ll have it your way soon enough. All it’ll take is patience.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to sit back in the chair behind his desk without uttering another word. It is a gross miscalculation on Lt. Riley’s part not to immediately take your acceptance if his reprimand as a giant red flag, but if he isn’t willing to put his knowledge of your competitive temperament to use then that is fully on him; he is a big boy and since he wants to talk about consequences, then he should be ready to receive his own.

You double check yourself in silence before you leave his office with a smug sense of satisfaction, though a plan isn’t in mind just yet. It doesn’t matter really, the bigger they are the harder they fall and you are confident that you can make him fold with very little effort because despite being a man of mostly mystery, you know the intimate details of what makes that 6’4” military officer weak.

The day isn’t even over before you already have a plan in mind and it all involves one very specific item. It’s a shame you have to order it, but the time it’ll take to come in the post will work in your favor. Lt. Riley needs time to cool off, to miss his pretty thing, to let his appetite for you get ravenous again.

Patience was never your virtue unless it came to getting something you wanted, so you bore your restlessness in silence as you waited for your order to come in. You give the lieutenant his space without a fuss, letting him believe his little delusion that at any moment you’ll come crawling back ready to obey him just as he wants.

A week passes and then nearly another when finally you are gifted with your prize that comes in the evening mail that Friday. You can taste the sweetness of your retribution already as you rip into the package and pull out the smallest, tightest pair of jet black hot pants with white trim. No more keeping this body for his eyes only; if he doesn’t want to give you the attention you desire then someone else will.

You rush to your barracks the second the day comes to a close with your package in hand; you have only a short window of time to pull your entire plan together or you’ll be forced to wait till after the weekend and you are tired of waiting. Tonight is the night that you make your lieutenant come crawling back to you and stop with this nonsense.

The tiny swath of fabric covering your ass barely hides a damned thing from view, hugging around your hips like they are painted on and resting at the very top of your thighs so that the underside of your butt peeks out from below the hem. There is a slit that goes up the side and it is doing its job in making your legs look extra long while also showing as much skin as possible. It leaves almost nothing to the imagination for anyone who happens to look your way… and boy do you want as many eyes on you as you can get.

Let’s see him be steadfast in his resolve to teach you a lesson now.

With a head full of devious thoughts, you leave your room and head out onto base and into the oncoming night. Shoulders back and head held high you walk past the buildings with confidence on the way to your first stop of the night: the officers building. You had checked the clock just before you left, it’s nearly time now. He’ll be leaving his office soon and you need him to catch sight of you on the way to your second destination: the rec center.

How lucky it is that the lieutenant is a man of routine and so giving it another minute or two you step out in front of the building and start heading directly for the rec, though at a slower pace than usual. And sure enough, when you’re still within eyeshot, you hear the front door to the building open.

Stepping out into the cooler evening air, Lt. Riley looks up and his sight is captured by a figure moving just up ahead in the distance. People coming and going isn’t abnormal on a military base, but what really catches his attention is the familiarity of the body and the way that body is dressed. He is stunned in his tracks because you are barely wearing anything at all with shorts that look like they’ve been painted on. Paired with the tight black tank top you’ve chosen and you might as well be naked for all the covering it does. After a good almost two weeks of no action, the man is starved…but also curious as to where the fuck you are going dressed like this.

The best thing would have been for the lieutenant to turn tail and walk away, leave it and you alone, but as smart as Lt. Riley is when it comes to temptation the man is a goddamn fool that cannot help himself.

You are a good bit ahead by the time he takes action and decides to follow you, but he keeps the pace as heat floods his body from staring at the back of you walking away, desperately wanting to take a bite out of all that juicy meat tempting his gaze as it bounces with each sure-footed step you take. Fuck, he is a sucker for all the plump, tender parts of your body and having them on display like this is a regular buffet that he can’t help but soak up even with his nosiness into what exactly has you looking so killer.

Those auburn eyes of his continue to follow you as you come to the front of a building and enter. Now that you are out of view, he can think more clearly and he realizes that it’s the rec center that you’ve just entered. The closer the lieutenant gets, the more he catches raucous sounds of many voices braying like a pack of crazed hounds, making him quicken his steps that match his rising blood pressure until he stands just outside the doors to peer in without being detected yet.

Through the glass doors he can see towards the back of the main room that a group of privates surrounding the single government bought pool table with cues in hand are now circling you like wolves circling a wounded deer, practically begging you to join them for a few games while he knows that its only to get you to stay longer so that they can enjoy the view. It makes his blood boil to watch them ogle you like that, getting far too close to what isn’t theirs.

…to what belongs to him.

Standing in silence, now cloaked in darkness as night has fallen, he watches angrily as a private gets bold enough to place his hand at the small of your back just as you lean over the table to make your first shot and suddenly he is seeing red. He can barely comprehend anything through the angry haze clouding his vision, but he can feel the cold steel of the door handle in his hand as he wrenches it open and stalks inside as if he is ready to kill.

All eyes immediately drift towards the source of the sound. You look up through a giggle to see the form of the lieutenant standing there, sharp gaze boring straight into you specifically and the man who still has his hand on you.

“What’s goin’ on ‘ere,” that deep voice booms through the small space to quiet the rowdy bunch.

“Is there a problem, sir?” one of the more brave privates speaks up.

His sight doesn’t leave you. “Seems we need to have a chat about propriety,” he growls. “This is a military base, not a fuckin’ strip club.”

You smirk. “I don’t know what kind of strip clubs you frequent, sir, but I can assure you that this is more clothing than most will allow.”

A few of the privates snicker behind you, impressed with your audacity to backtalk someone as imposing as the skull-masked officer and that does nothing but add fuel to the fire.

“Come with me- now.” His voice is firm.

A collective “ooooh” passes around the bunch that is quickly quelled with one harsh glare. “If I were ya I would get back to my fuckin’ game,” Lt. Riley barks. “Or would you lot rather be placed on permanent fire guard to drive the goddamn point home, since ya want to meddle in an officer’s business?”

His command is absolute and none of the privates have the balls enough to question it. Quickly they scramble back to their game, keeping their heads down and eyes locked to the table. Whatever trouble you are about to get in is none of their concern, not when being reprimanded by the imposing lieutenant is on the line.

Satisfied, those amber eyes snap right back to you. “Move, now,” he demands and points towards an area of the rec that is blocked off by a wall, essentially cutting the room in two and will give enough privacy that the others inside won’t be able to witness what is about to transpire.

“Of course, sir,” you say in agreement without a syllable of dissention.

Turning on your heels you take off in the direction pointed out to you, walking ahead of the masked officer eagerly. He’s mad; there is no need to turn around, you can feel his glare on you the entire walk over and it makes you smile. You’ve hit the nerve you had hoped to. Now to bring it all home and get your lover back the way you want.

As soon as you make it behind the cover of the corner his hand is on your waist as he shoves you into the wall with brute force. Your back hits it and you let out a surprised gasp. He stands towering over top of you, a powerfully intimidating figure with a massive presence to match as he glares you down with fire in his gaze.

“Can I fucking help you?” you ask as you quickly regain your composure.

Christ, when you want to get his attention you sure know how to do it. “What the fuck do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he questions back heatedly. “Puttin’ on a fuckin’ show for all the privates? Do ya fuckin’ think this appropriate, what ya got on?”

Something about having this conversation with the barrier of his balaclava covering his face infuriates you as if this was any other time he would have already had it off his face. “You think you can just treat me like everyone else after all we’ve done? Fuck you; take off the mask when you’re talking to me.”

His eyes narrow as he shakes his head side to side. “You don’t get to make demands a me anymore, princess.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge back. “That what you think?”

Leaning in a bit closer, you can feel the heat of his breath even as it filters through the fabric. “That’s what I know. Now answer the question. Do ya think this is appropriate?”

Your shrug is nonchalant. “For field work? Well, it depends on the climate I suppose. That doesn’t really apply here does it, since we are still on base. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

A sharp hiss of air exits rapidly out of his nose. “Like hell I do,” he says and suddenly you can make out the feel of his fingertips as they toy around with the fabric at the edge of your shorts. He lets them brush against your outer thigh as he follows the line of the hem up the slit that goes higher towards your hip. There is electricity in his touch and it makes your pulse start to race. “You're distracting my men. An outfit like this is askin’ for attention. Whose fuckin’ attention ya tryin’ to get, hmm?”

“Who said anything about attention?” you question him back as if you can’t possibly understand what all the fuss is about. “I just wanted to be comfortable. You know, unwind and all that after a long week.”

“Comfortable,” he scoffs as he rolls the fabric in between his fingers. “Ya barely have a god damned thing on.”

“Maybe that’s how I feel most comfortable,” you push, your reply a little more breathy. “You of all people should know that.”

Oh you are walking on thin ice, lying to him like this. He is not that innocent that he can’t tell what you’re doing and you are not that naive to think that he won’t immediately figure it out. Harshly grabbing your chin, he holds your face firm in his grasp as his dark eyes shadowed within the confines of his mask stare back into your own.

“Don’t ya lie to me, sweetheart,” he says, that gruff voice metered and unyielding in its severity. “The way ya were just eatin’ up how those boys reacted, I know ya didn’t fuckin’ dress like a slag for nothin’.”

“Are they not allowed to look, Simon?” you ask without missing a beat and using his name as if it’s a curse.

The question hangs in that air as Simon shifts in his stance while not saying a word, eyes narrowing as he realizes that there is no right way for him to answer that without giving himself away that he has dug himself into trouble.

A smug grin crosses your lips before you try to lick it away. “Ah, so that’s the problem right? That they were looking at me? Strange, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were… jealous. But that can’t be right, can it Simon? Because I thought I was cut off and that you were done, so it’s all fair game yeah? Unless there is something you want to fess up to?”

Simon’s chiseled jaw twitches under his mask as his eyes shimmer; you are pushing it, though why is he even surprised. “Ya better watch it, luv,” he warns under his breath as his grip along your chin tightens. “You are playin’ with fire and if ya ain’t careful, your pretty little fingers are gonna fuckin’ burn.”

And before you are even made conscious of it, your mind immediately knows what to say in response. You hold his gaze steadfast in your own. “Make me.”

Those two little words and their variations are Simon’s kryptonite and you know it; that’s what got you on his cock in the first place. Nothing else can make that man go feral than a threat from a bratty bitch that puts him in the position to show them the consequences of what their cocky attitudes get them.

You smirk, satisfied with how you seem to have the upper hand in this little confrontation. Simon is now in a place where he will either have to admit he still wants you and that his threat meant nothing or he will have to let you go… and you know by the rapid increase in the rise and fall of his chest the longer you stand between him and the wall that the latter is looking less and less likely.

“Still waiting on your answer,” you say with a smug, satisfied grin spread across your lips, “or is it that if you say anything, it’ll make it clear that you are now regretting a certain… decision… you so hastily made?”

God, you know just how to rile him up in the exact way that both infuriates and entices him. His devil with a pretty face, his sin that feels like heaven; he is drawn to your stubbornness like a moth is drawn to a flame.

“Ya vicious little bitch,” he says, the words sharp.

Gotcha, you think to yourself. You have that serious military officer right where you want him. Now all you have to do is go in for the kill. You take a step into him even with your chin still secure in his grasp. “Oh yeah,” you respond, your voice husky. “As if you don’t fucking love it.”

You are met with only silence as a shiver runs straight through him. He’s barely able to react in time to hide its presence, but grits his teeth hard and stifles any movement other than the rapid breaths he continues to take.

“Cat got your tongue?” you ask and wait for a response that doesn’t come; you don’t expect it to. “That’s what I thought. So, here’s how it’s going to work: I’m gonna wear what I want, when I want, and if you don’t like how others react to my wardrobe then that’s on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got a game to return to.”

Pulling your head back forcefully out of his grip, his strong, rough fingers release your chin and he watches as you make your move to step past him, but he can’t let this go like he had originally planned. This is the game you both play and he just can’t quit you. You are his, his, and he isn’t going to just let you forget that. You barely take the first few steps around him headed back the way you came when you hear Simon mutter under his breath.

“Fuck,” the sigh hits your ears before his arm jettisons out and grabs you by the wrist.

Your body is spun around and pulled into him, your back flush against his warm chest as he leans himself back against the wall. His hand shoots up to cover over your mouth, cupping across your cheeks to stifle any sound that may come from the shock of his action. Sure enough you gasp into his palm as he straps you to his chest by locking you in place with his other arm.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere, princess,” he grunts lowly into your ear.

Stoic and silent he pushes a knee up through the gap in your legs to widen them before his hand slinks down your abdomen, over your pants, and comes to rest against your sex. That large palm now nestled in between your thighs presses up into you and it only takes a few seconds for Simon to realize that he can feel the lips of your pussy straight through the thin fabric of your pants without any barrier. No panties, really?

You fucking witch. You planned this, didn’t you?

There are still soldiers hanging about, out of sight for the moment, but still not something that is conducive for such an encounter. He wouldn’t risk something like this…would he? What you think is going to be a quick touch and pull back turns into his hand locking to your pussy as he begins to massage it through your pants. He pushes his fingers up through the cloth until he can feel the outline of your clit on his fingertips.

A quiet chuckle falls from your lips behind his handmade muzzle as his fingers make contact with the crotch of your shorts and you feel his chest jerk as he struggles to catch his breath. Feel something you like, lieutenant? you think as the corners of your mouth upturn against his skin.

A moan barely squeaks out from around his hand before he presses it harder against your lips. “Don’t need someone catchin’ us, do we? Not til I’m finished with ya.”

Those heated words cause your heart to race violently, thudding strong against your ribcage to match a certain throbbing growing in strength between your thighs.

“You gonna keep quiet?” he asks and you nod in his hand. “Don’t make me regret it or else, princess.”

Simon removes his palm and wraps his arms around your waist; you’re not going anywhere. “We could still get caught, you know,” you say softly, stumbling over your words as his fingers continue to play.

“Ya should've thought of that before ya tempted me with this fuckin’ skin, luv,” he murmurs against the side of your head. There is no way in hell you are getting out of these shorts without him fucking you out of them, he will stop only when he can feel a wet spot soaking through the crotch. “ ‘Sides, maybe I want that prick that had his fuckin’ hands on ya ta see that he doesn’t stand a chance.”

He won’t, he has never been the type to share but the threat serves its purpose. The boys at the pool table continue to distract themselves, but who knows how long that will last. If they come creeping over, there is no way they won’t instantly know what is happening. And yet over and over his large fingers grind against your clit until it begins to ache.

“Gimme your hand,” he searches for the appendage, only to be met with resistance once he locates it.

“I said give,” he reiterates the point in that more authoritative tone he is used to using with his men.

You shake your head that still rests in his grasp; you don’t want to make this easy for him. If he wants something he is going to have to work for it. Encapsulating your wrist in his hand, the muscles along his forearm strain as he drags your arm up from your side. He takes your hand firmly in his, fingers lacing themselves over the top of your own as he descends them both down the front of your body and slips them into the waistband of your shorts. No time is wasted in bringing them directly between your legs, parting through your warm, soft lips, and nestling both sets of fingers inside.

“Gonna need ya ta participate in this part,” he says, low and bassey at the side of your face. “You’re fuckin’ achin’ bad, aren’t ya? Christ luv, I can already feel how swollen your clit is.”

Simon keeps your conjoined fingers resting up against that tiny bundle of nerves. There is a tension-filled pause as he takes a deep, labored breath as the end of his thought hangs anxiously in the air, waiting for him to finish it. His lips are right at the threshold of your earlobe, you can feel their presence as they ghost near the tender flesh, the skin tingling as his warm breath wafts over the area.

You suddenly realize the lack of oxygen filling your lungs as he finally speaks. “Let’s make it worse,” he growls.

A shiver snakes through your spine as he forces your fingers to work in tandem with his in rolling circles over your sensitive clit, stroking again and again in a steady rhythm that he has set.

“Best hope they decide to leave soon, sweetheart,” he breathes the words into your ear as he rests his forehead against your temple. “Cause if ya want me to let ya fuckin’ come, they’re gonna have to be gone. Until then we’re just gonna have to keep ya wet and fuckin’ ready.”

His phallus pulses against your ass through his pants, bobbing with his racing heartbeat as it prods into the cheek of your ass. A struggled, shaky breath escapes your lips as he moves his hips to press it into you; your sanity is hanging on by a thread. All you want is for him to bend you over, rip your shorts down, and thrust inside, but no matter how much you rub against it he does not take the bait.

Time passes so much slower as you stay strapped to him, his hand and yours shoved down the front of your shorts keeping you wet. Your sanity is beginning to wane; no one should be expected to keep it together when a lover who knows your body like the back of his hand is using everything to his advantage to keep you aching.

Pressure gathering in the pit of your stomach only to dissipate before it can ever come to fruition, over and over Simon brings you to the brink only to back off once you get close enough. It feels like eternity in the haze of his capable fingers working your body before the men finally decide that they have had enough with standing around the quiet center when the local bar is just a short drive down the road and head out, completely forgetting that they haven’t seen either you or the lieutenant for quite some time, but they also haven’t seen either of you leave.

The moment the door shuts and the last sounds of talking can be heard drifting off into the distance, you are released and again turned only to be shoved back against the wall. Simon is immediately pressed against you, one knee collapsing into the wall between your legs as your hands greedily claw at the cloth gathered at base of his neck, fingers pulling up the bottom of his mask without hindrance so that they can get underneath it and push it up to expose his hungry mouth. A devilish, toothy grin waits to meet you as the fabric is removed; he’s proud of the desperation he has left you in.

“They’re gone,” you say with a heavy bit of neediness. “I did what you said.”

“Ya want me ta give it to ya now, that it?” he asks with a smug sense of self satisfaction.

“You promised,” you shoot back, the agony of waiting becoming unbearable the longer he takes.

His face inches in closer to yours, hot breath meeting and wafting over the skin on your lips as he exhales. “Ya think this is gonna be some sorta reward?” he asks, his voice lowering into the deeper part of his register, that gravely vibrato that turns your legs into jelly just from the sound.

Those full lips of his ghost over your own, making the skin quiver from the proximity. Your mouth parts open as suddenly you feel like you can’t get enough air while waiting in misery for him to break and crash on you with all of his desire. A breathy gasp escapes through the gap as that thick thigh of his presses up into your pussy. He has you right where he wants you now.

“Ya still got a fuckin’ lesson ta learn, princess,” he says. “So, I’m gonna have ta fuck the attitude til it comes drippin’ right out of ya.”

And with that he leans down and forcefully connects your lips together so that your head hits the wall behind you. Fiery and aggressive he embraces your mouth again and again, lips fighting for dominance with each new connection. Breath and spit are shared as the wet smacking sounds of skin on skin hits the air and fills up the quiet of the place.

You haven’t gotten your fill yet, but suddenly you find your body being lifted into the air and carelessly flung over one of his broad shoulders as he drags you back into the middle of the room. He eyes his destination the moment it comes into view from around the wall and quickly makes his way over to it; somewhere he can put you so he can get to work.

Your backside makes contact with the smooth felt of the pool table as Simon sets you down on top of it. The cool surface of the rails raises goosebumps on the back of your thighs as he situates you right at the edge. No longer pressed together, a spot of cold radiates from his thigh and he looks down to see a present you have left for him right on the fabric.

“Look what ya did,” he growls, pointing to the obviously darker patch on the inner thigh of his jeans. “Made a fuckin’ mess.”

“Whose…ng…fucking fault is that?” you whimper, adjusting yourself as every little movement puts pressure on your aching clit.

“And I’d do it again ta keep my brat in line,” he smirks as his irises sparkle like a predator locking on to its prey. “Now, open your fuckin’ legs.”

You widen the gap between your thighs more, but he still has to use his hips to shove them open enough that he can fit in until he is right up against you. The sharp edge of his teeth cuts into the plump flesh of your bottom lip as he sucks it into his mouth to give it a hard nip. He swallows down the harsh groan you produce at his delicious brand of roughness like it’s honey. Every single sound you make in response to his actions is music to his ears.

“Need ya ta know this type a shit isn’t gonna fly with me.”

Fingertips play around the perimeter of your cunt until he hooks them through the cool, damp crotch of your pants and wrenches them to the side to expose your entrance. “Let’s ruin these fuckin’ things,” he smugly says as he works with one hand to undo his pants and slide both that and his boxers down his thighs until his cock pops out of the waistband and stands hard and throbbing for you. “Don’t ever wanna see these goddamn things again after tonight.”

His vice-like grip on the crotch of your shorts causes a few of the overly taut threads to snap as he holds the fabric out of his way to align the swollen head of his cock with that dripping, aching hole he’s been working so that it’s already ready to take him in. You can feel the tip of his hard girth push against the moist skin before he bucks his hips and it strains through the barrier. His grip moves to your waist to force your body further down on him as you whine, the stretch overwhelming, but divine.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, princess? Why you wore these tight fuckin’ things, yeah? Ya tryin’ ta make me take ya like an animal?” he grunts, the feel of your tight, silky walls fluttering around his cock as he fills you full threatening to send him straight to hell.

“The moment I saw ya in ‘em I thought I was gonna lose control. Been a while since I had ya. That on purpose too?”

You fall backward against the table, your back arching up off it and your eyes roll back into your head as he pulls you down while slamming the length of his phallus up into you until he reaches the base. He doesn’t give you a moment to gather your sanity and instead snaps his hips into you, the intensity in each stroke causing your body to jolt over the felted surface.

“Look at me,” he grunts as he reaches out to grab at your chin and pull you back up to him, “look - at - me.”

You’re unable to deny him when he’s thrusting so deep and your eyes open to meet his gaze again. “You’re mine, ya hear?” he breathes the words desperate and firm. “Nobody else can look at ya like this, got it? Nobody.”

His breath hitches a moment as a shudder runs through his cock from the way you tighten around it. “Those boys out there mighta gotten a show tonight, but that’s the last they’ll ever get,” he growls more intensely. “Don’t even want ‘em to think they have a fuckin’ chance wit ya cause you belong ta me. You were made for me, princess. Only me.”

Harder and harder he pounds into your pussy with a need that feels like it cannot be quenched no matter how deep he goes. “And nobody else - nobody else- ya don’t need anyone else ‘sides me. Say it.”

A pathetic whimper is all he gets in response as his cock digs in deep, but that isn’t good enough. You’re gonna do exactly as he says and repeat it - out loud. His grip around your face tightens.

“Say it,” he demands again.

“Don’t… need a-anyone…else…” you stammer out as it is a struggle now to speak.

Then you hear it, the distinct sound of fabric beginning to rip. The seam along the crotch has had too much strain put on it and it is starting to give, threads ripping more steadily the harder Simon thrusts. God, that sound is the catalyst to you suddenly feeling wild, like all you want him to do is shred the fucking things off of you by screwing you out of them. It’s at that moment that familiar warmth begins to gather in your belly. It won’t be long now and you’ll be spilling.

“Say: you’re the only one I fuckin’ want,” he insists as he clenches to make his cock pulse inside of you.

Simon’s wide hand slides down from your chin to just at the base of your throat where he wraps it around and gives it a light squeeze for emphasis. The pressure feels like heaven amongst all the stimulation and trying to keep your eyes on him and speak at the same time is nearly impossible, but find your words soon enough.

You lick your parched lips. “You’re the only one I want, Simon,” you moan.

“Again.”

“You’re the only one I will ever want, Simon.”

Another couple of desperately strong thrusts. “And you’re gonna listen from now on, yeah?”

“Yes!” you blurt out.

He pulls you by the throat so that you meet him in a kiss as his hips never stop snapping into you. “Such a fuckin’ obedient girl for me,” he groans against your mouth as he breaks free from it. “Now, let’s make ya come so ya never fuckin’ forget who it is that ya belong to.”

Releasing your neck, Simon brings his hand down, parting through your dripping lips to find your clit so that he can rub over it as he thrusts. There is not much more you can take now; all his work before has done its job to perfection and your body is falling apart so rapidly it feels like the nosedive off that first ddrop of a rollercoaster.

“G-gonna… gonna come, baby,” you stammer out. You bring your lips in closer to his, desperate to kiss him again, but the pleasure is just too much to handle that you devolve into simply panting instead.

He inhales in ragged breaths the sweet air from your mouth, his teeth grinding together the harder he thrusts. All those days without you have been frustrating as he waited for you to come crawling back. He missed the feeling of you wrapped around him and right now he needs you to come on his cock.

But this isn’t going to teach you what he wants. Pulling out amidst your whined protests, he pulls you off the table onto your feet and spins you around before pushing your upper body down while guiding you to spread your stance wider and ripping the crotch of your pants aside again, this time he doesn’t hesitate to enter you.

From this angle the penetration is even deeper and as his finger finds that tiny bud of nerve endings again, you are right back where you want to be - a mess ready to explode.

“Come for me.” He is demanding while trying to hold it all together. “Now.”

Harder and harder he pushes, thrusting and stroking, and like the flick of a switch all that heat and all that pressure culminates in an explosion that has you crying out loudly as you come with force, your back arching to pull you away from his grasp. Waves wash through your body as the intensity of your orgasm shakes through you until your legs are vibrating around his hips.

The moment you cry out he allows himself to let go, finally finished with his task, and fucking you through your orgasm he comes so hard that he has to grab the sides of the pool table to keep himself upright. Grunting like an animal he coats your walls and thrusts his cum continuously back up into you until he is spent and cannot go another second.

Simon stays inside as you both come back down from that exhilarating high, two glistening bodies conjoined at the forehead with eyes closed until he has enough strength to pull his sensitive cock carefully out of you. Both of your mixed juices follow his cock out, dribbling out of your entrance to collect in the crotch of your pants as they snap back into place now that there is nothing keeping them pushed aside.

You flip yourself back over and lean against the edge of the table to look down at what’s left of your shorts. They are completely soaked, drenched in so much of your juices that they look wet. The ruined fabric clings to your body as if it’s glued on and you are left feeling cold down there as Simon pulls away.

“That’s better,” he says with satisfaction as he studies his handiwork of the ripped, saturated fabric. “And so is this.”

A more gentle kiss is placed on your lips this time, one in praise of you doing so well for him. You reciprocate the feeling by cupping his face in your hands.

“And we’re not gonna have any more a this, right?” he asks as he pulls from your mouth.

Looking into his eyes, a subtle smirk contours your lips. “We’ll see,” you say as Simon shakes his head.

He wouldn’t expect anything less.

“So,” you continue, “I’m just wondering if you thought about how I’m going to leave here, now that I look like this. Gonna need something so I don’t have to cross base.”

Across the way he spots a random jacket hanging off the back of a chair, left by one of the privates no doubt. Looks big enough and he returns with it in hand. Carefully he circles the sleeves around your body and ties them in front to cover you until you can get back to your room and change. Don’t need anyone seeing anything they shouldn’t.

“I did really like these by the way,” you pick as Simon pulls you by the knot in the sleeves wrapped around your waist back into him to catch your lips one last time with his.

“Don’t ya worry, sweetheart, I’m gonna be gettin’ you a new pair, ones that I chose,” he says. “Cause I’m gonna be the only one that gets to enjoy this fuckin’ view from now on. And it’s a view you’re gonna give me ‘gain and again, darlin’.”

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shotmrmiller · 1 month

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OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS!!!! Just readthe 141 small town cops au 4 times and lemme add onto it but for Ghost!

Ghost got a call into the station about a big fight breaking out and got to the bus stop to see reader punching and screaming at a middle aged man. For ghost it was love at first sight, having already heard about her fierce and fiery attitude that he just knew he could break. She got pulled into the station along with the man her claimed he was harassing and cat calling her and the man pressing charges.

With his influence her had her put on house arrest with him as her officer, for pervious charges this being her final charge. Ghost was constantly around and inside her house watching her, even on his days an off he was there. Making her agitated and snappy at him always responding to him with a “Fuck off” or “don’t you have a life outside of watching me, creep?” To him these outbursts were just cries for more attention and anger for not being around ally every waking moment. So he spent more time at her house.

Eventually she was off house arrest but a ~~framed~~ incident landed her right back on house arrest. This time he had cameras in and surrounding her house so he really could watch her every single day. Every misdemeanor he’d pull up and hound her about it making her really feel like a prisoner in her own home. Got to the point he was basically living with her.

At the station he’d refer to her as “the missus” and talk about how she’s such a good stay at home wife cooking, cleaning and essentially taking care of him and all he needs is to break that attitude of her and pop some babies in her for her to be perfect. He was bringing flowers back to ~~her~~ their house every day and she’d just roll her eyes and try to degrade him about how she isn’t his girlfriend or wife and needs to go home. Although he just took it as he isn’t fulfilling her enough and needs to try harder to please her because happy wife = happy life.

likes to see her light up like a struck match when he says that she oughta be smarter than that. doesn't matter what some old soggy geezer did, gotta keep those small fists to ya self. doesn't matter what happened or who saw what, it's about what you can prove in court.

she goes on house arrest and he's more than happy to slink around the place. always within sight yet mostly out of it cuz it makes her real upset.

tuts when you snap. no one told ya to go startin' shit ya can't finish cuz the one that peeled you off the old man is him and if he did it with an arm over your chest and the other snug around the waist, who cares. he had to restrain you by any means (lowkey sounds like a straight jacket lmao) maybe next time you'll use that pretty head o'yers and not cause public disturbances, eh?

he doesn't have to call her his wife. the guys already know. the 141 approaches their love interests by any means necessary and simon has clearly found his way in.

"say hello to the missus f'me."

(meanwhile ol girl is debating cutting it off and running for the hills)

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subwaystragedy · 1 year

Text

Count Em All || Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sub Ftm!Reader

Word Count. 1.7k

Warnings: Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Degradation, and Slight Size Kink

"One!" You cry out, having to restart the count all over again as your secret lover slaps his large hand across your ass, the punishment he set for your disobedience throughout the day. "Two!" you call, hearing Ghost chuckle, "Don't mess up again love," you hardly hear his low and taunting voice, trying to get to ten without messing up again, having not taken the punishment seriously in the beginning. Leaving your ass red and sore, the actual number of hits being somewhere nearing 25 or 30, you can’t remember, once again feeling his hand come down on your ass, making you jolt forward. Crying out a simple, “Three!” as you whimper, the pain soon turning into a masochistic form of pleasure as his hand hits your pussy every time he brings it down to smack your ass.

His large hand hitting both sides of your ass from how small you were in comparison to him, even now as you’re leaned over his knees, the size difference is noticeable. “Four!” you sob, head hanging low as you bite your lip, thankful you didn’t get distracted by your own thoughts as you become increasingly wet from the sadistic actions Ghost was dealing you. Hearing him chuckle after smacking your ass again, “F-five!” you wail. Voice becoming hoarse from all yelling, “Startin’ to think you’re enjoying this more than you should,” Ghost laughs, fingers soon finding their way to your entrance as he runs them up and down. “Fingers are already slick with your juice's love,” he teases, knowing you’re enjoying it all from the small whimper you let out.

Hearing him chuckle lightly at your pathetic noises, “Really are enjoyin’ this more than you should, huh?” the words make you whine, earning another laugh from him as he gently pushes his fingers inside you. Only a knuckle deep as his free hand rubs your sore and aching ass, the gentleness stings as your raw skin screams from the break of contact and pain it's providing. His thick fingers stretching you as he pushes them fully inside you, the feeling like always making you desperate for something more than just his fingers. His still fingers inside you make you moan, the small and unintentional attempt to push yourself back against him, the quick but small amount of sting that comes from him gently slapping your ass once again is almost unbearable.

Tears falling slowly as he shushes you, “You can always safe word out love, no need to take what you can’t han-” “No!” you cut him off, wiggling your hips as you whine, “W-want you,” you softly sob, needing more than what he’s giving you as you raise your hips. Whimpering softly just to hear a laugh follow from him, “Count it,” he commands before he brings the hand previously rubbing your ass down to your smack it again, taking a moment to think of where you left off as you yell out before counting, "Six!" Letting out a sigh of relief as he praise you, "Good boy, glad you can keep up," feeling him smack your ass repeatedly and quickly, too fucked from his fingers pushing in and out of you slowly afterwards.

Hearing him exhale, seemingly amused with the loud scream you let out, almost convulsing as he gives the back to back spanks, "How many was that love?" "N-nine?," "Awe, that's just too bad pretty boy," you practically sob at his words. Throwing your head down, knowing you'll have to restart all over again as he tells you, "It was ten love," you whine, a few more tears running from your eyes at the disappointment. Having been so close to the actual amount, hearing him click his tongue in his mouth as he runs his hand over your sore ass again, light feather-like touches as he moves his finger back to your cunt with the other hand. Entering you immediately, no more teasing as he begins to finger you at a satisfying pace, humming as he watches you squirm and hears you whine, snickering quietly to himself as he looks down at you.

Soon feeling the small bump against your stomach turn into a full bulge against you as he picks up the pace of his wrist, thick and long fingers hitting deep enough inside you to make you moan and writhe in pleasure. You're noises clearly effecting him, both of you unable to ignore the growing bulge in between his legs, but you knew he wasn't going to give anything to you any time soon. "S-simon please~" you whine, hearing him hum as he slows his fingers down to let you speak, "I want you~ Please Si," earning a laugh from the man above you as you hear him give a simple command, "Get up then love, face down, ass up, on the bed now." Following his orders without a second thought for once in the day, getting off of him and crawling into the bed in the bunk room, just like he said, ass up and face down in the bed as you hear it creek when he removes his weight.

Looking back to see him standing at the edge of the bed undoing his pants, as he once again makes the bed creek with his weight, being almost too small to line up with him properly. Soon feeling his cock on your ass as he rubs it in between your legs, hearing you moan makes him laugh, "A desperate lad aren't you?" he teases, pushing his head inside you before pulling it out. Once again laughing at your distressed whine, doing the action once more only for you to push back, feeling more of him entering you but soon feeling a harsh slap to your ass, harder than any of them before. "I didn't say you could move," he talks while shoving the rest of himself inside you.

Gasping at the sudden fullness, the pace he immediately sets is brutal, pounding into you with his hands on your waist to stabilize his movements, fingers basically touching as he holds you. The moans, if not heard before, were definitely being heard now by the rest of 141, increasing in volume and frequency, unable to keep it all inside as you feel him deep in your stomach. Looking down to see that small bulge in your guts that could make you cum on the spot, once again feeling his hand come down on your already stinging ass. The scream once again pulling a laugh out of Ghost, "Such a small thing beneath me," he moves his hands to grip your ass, "Can fit all of your ass in my hands," he laughs.

The tight grip on your rear makes you whine, "Come on baby, bounce on me," he gently commands, moving your hand to your stomach to feel him make that small bulge you love so much. Moving yourself back on forth, his hands still on your ass as he groans, only slightly helping as he lets you do most of the work to please yourself and him, "God you look so pathetic underneath me," he chuckles, "So small and cute," he once again laughs. His deep voice getting to you as you moan softly, whimpering and whining like the cock drunk whore you are for the man behind you, rolling your hips up and down as you push and pull yourself back and forth.

"Off, now, " Ghost commands, immediately flipping you over as you pull forward enough to make him pull out, now laying on your back as he pushes your legs up, knees near your head as he lines himself back up with your entrance, pushing in and setting a brutal pace. Pushing you up aggressively every time he thrust into you, your eyes closed with your mouth hung open in a silent moan as he presses down on your stomach. The force of his hips against your ass still not giving you a break from the pain on the raw and sensitive skin, hearing him grunt and groan at the feeling of your walls clenching against him making him get unbearably close.

"Lookin' so beautiful love," he talks in between soft moans, trying to hear you screams of pleasure and pain, on hand keeping you leg as far back as it could go, the other relaxed as he angles himself to fuck you deeply. The bulge seemingly growing in size as he fucks you from the new angle, "So small under me," he comments, groaning with his head tilted back before he take his hand off your stomach to pull his balaclava mask just above his nose as he leans down to kiss you. Holding his face as he does, feeling his grunts and groans against your lips as you moan against his, knowing he's getting close, silently begging for him to cum inside you as you unintentionally clenching around him at the erotic noises of your kissing and sloppy sex.

Pulling away to catch your breath properly, head thrown back as you feel him thrust quicker, trying to fill you up with his cum, and he eventually does. Grunting and groaning as he rest his forehead against your as he continues to fuck you through his own orgasm, feeling his cum inside you spurring you own orgasm, almost squirting on his cock as you finish with him. Ghost giving a few slow but deep thrust as he rolls his hips into you, whimpering as you feel almost unbearably full of your lover, his lips meeting yours again in a soft and tender kiss, hearing and feeling him sigh peacefully against you. The sweet moment being interrupted by pounding on the bunks door, a thick Scottish accent following, "Keep it down next time!" causing you both to laugh after the initial shock dies down, breathy and exhausted laughs leaving the two of you as you fall into each other. "Did so well love," he kisses your forehead, moving so you're atop of him instead of underneath, big arms wrapped around you as he pulls you close, your head on his chest as he stays inside of you, "Proud of you handsome."

#cod x reader #cod x male reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x male reader #trans reader #ghost cod

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tacticaldiary · 10 months

Text

Cut From The Same Cloth

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Angst

"We're cut from the same cloth, you and I." She snarls, knuckles turning white at the grip she has on his vest. "You'll never settle for anything that won't destroy you because that's just the kind of person you are!"

Masterlist

Cool, crisp air cuts away the stuffiness of the bar as they step out into the alley.

"The hell were you thinking?" Simon hisses, yanking her away from the back door. "Running your mouth and startin' a fight like that outnumbered?"

"I could've taken them." She argues stubbornly, ripping her arm out of his grasp. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, a bruise blooming over her jaw.

"Five to one?" He stares at her in disbelief for a second. "Bloody hell woman, are you hearin' yourself?"

"I don't need you patronising me." She snaps, dabbing at her lip with the dirty sleeve of her shirt. He runs a frustrated hand over her head at

"You're hell bent on being destructive-"

"Don't act like you're any better." She glares. "Don't play a fucking saint, Simon."

"I'm not the one starting fights I can't win."

"You're just as self sabotaging as me! Smoking, drinking, mixing yourself with people like me-"

"I wouldn't be with you if I didn't fucking want to." He warns, and nothing about this is warm or kind. Teeth bared and words sharp, the tension between them has been rising for the past month.

"Oh don't make me laugh." She scoffs. "You'd find someone much better if you could stay away from me, if you didn't keep crawling back."

"Watch it." He warns.

For a moment he doesn't react, letting the words she'd uttered etch themselves into the marble of his mind, resolute and honest.

Because it was honest, wasn't it?

They aren't good for each other. Late nights in each other's rooms, the sweet nothings, false promises...the rough scrape of hands, furious words and shouting. Seeing each other take someone else home after fighting. Not acknowledging it the next day, falling into the same sickly sweet, vicious cycle.

It's killing him, poisoning him in an addictive way he can't help but give into.

Destructive.

"And you're fine with that?" He grits out, grunting when she shoves him away.

"Yes, I'm fucking fine with it." Grim satisfaction and...and pride laces her voice. "This is...I live for this, Simon. This is for me. After weeks of structure and following orders, getting blood on my hands for work? Letting myself go feels so fucking good." Something sour curls in his stomach.

"We're not supposed to have a conscience." A shake of her "Keep your head down and pull the trigger, right? This," She gestures to the dingy alley, gestures between the both of them. "-is my trigger. And I'll fire as many rounds as it takes until the guilt washes away."

Her eyes are wide and earnest, and like a train screeching off the rails, a realisation dawns on Simon, breathing down his neck and twisting a knife into his gut.

He can't save her.

Not from this.

Not from herself.

A year of this back and forth, of relying on something as crumbly as hope.

Hope? Funny. When did he start believing in something so childish again?

The chink in his armor stitches itself up, solidifies into something sturdier than the brick wall she tore down to worm her way into his heart all those months ago. It was a mistake. Encased in iron and the new revelation, Ghost lets the silence hang.

The air shifts as he straightens to his full height. It's noteably enough, because the small, exasperated smile of hers slips into something more wary, the hair on the back of her next standing up while she waits for him to speak.

"You want to fuck your life up, be my fucking guest, sergeant." Ghost says.

Sergeant?

"Fire at will." Cold and callous, words sharp and to the point. "But you'll no longer be doing it from the task force."

A beat of silence.

"The fuck I won't. On what authority?" She scoffs, but the statement isn't as confident as her monologue prior.

"Mine. Price will have your discharge papers on your desk by Tuesday-"

"So this is some sick way to what? Blackmail me into staying with you?"

"I don't need you."

"Could have fooled me-"

"I don't need you." He repeats, narrowing his eyes. "Doesn't matter what I fuckin' want. I want a lot of things, doesn't mean I need them."

It's for the best, he tells himself. With how she was acting, how unpredictable she was right now she'd eventually get herself shot and killed on the field.

When, not if.

And as much as Ghost wants to walk away and forget he was stupid to let anything but shallow camaraderie grace his life, he can't stomach the thought of leaving this loose end, of being presented with a pair of her bloody dog tags instead of her smile one night.

Her indignant, angry shouts echo across the grimy alley bricks, nasty, low insults about his character, about how he's insane, how he's selfish and petty.

Setting his jaw, Ghost lets himself have one last pass of her. Rakes his eyes up and down as if trying to commit her to memory one last time. Just as she looks about ready to take a swing at him, he turns on heel and leaves her there.

She can hate him all she wants. Hate him, despise him, loathe him. He's used to it, it won't put a dent in his defences.

Hate was better than destructive indifference.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(10/12/2023)

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loving-azerath · 1 year

Note

i usually like hiding in anonland but here i am! would love headcanons about tf 141 (and maybe könig) preparing to propose and like how they'd do it! maybe show or describe the rings too 😌💕

i've been craving ghost, könig, and gaz content but whatever you're most comfortable writing!

Oh BOY did you go to the right writer for this LMAO

So Captain Price, he is old fashioned. He knew after a year or so of dating. He would...if you have a father or a good relationship with him (Lets be honest if you like Captain price that isn't likely) he would ask him for your hand. He would probably keep it a secret from everyone. Not risking his team accidentally letting it slip to you. He would also listen to you I think. He would enjoy prying the information on how you want to be proposed to. "Could ever see yourself being on the big screen of one of those? Askin' to be make a man's dreams come true?" He would ask, as you watch kisscams on your phone. You would tell him, if you want it private or not and he would commit to memory. You would never see it coming and it would be everything. When you say yes he would smoke a cigar to celebrate and ask you to make a facebook post because he doesn't want to mess up the announcement.

Simon Ghost Daddy Riley, he isn't one for a lot of attention and he probably also didn't think he would find someone to marry. So he would get the ring, with the help of at least one trusted person. He would ask them to make sure your nails are done or that you are in the perfect mood just to make sure nothing goes wrong. He would probably doing it in the most intimate setting. Between the sheets? Maybe. In his car after a long drive? Maybe. Would he watch you cooking breakfast for them, and not be able to contain himself anymore? Getting on his knees behind you and grabbing your hand. Yes. Omg. When you say yes, he would shower you in praise about what a beautiful bride you will be. How much he can't wait for you to be his wife. The sex though? More possessive. You are his future Wife now. New kinks unlocked for this man for sure.

Johnny Soap MacTavish, this man is too proud to do it quietly. He wants everyone to hear you say yes to him. He would do it in a pub, or in front of the team. Two drinks in for courage. He would have gotten the ring like six weeks after dating. Knowing you were the one almost as soon as you flashed him the right smile after a horrible joke. Now here he is in the pub, his friends hooting and hollaring while he gets down on his knee and asks you. When you say yes the drinks that are practically thrown in the air. He would lift you for sure, spinning you around and kissing you (might be turning into a soap girly)

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, let me tell you right now this cheeky little shit. Knew you would say yes. Had the ring on him at all times and would take pictures of it near you while you were looking for at least two months until you finally catch him at breakfast. He would sit there with a SHIT EATING GRIN and say something like "Bout time, love. Startin to think you lacked complete situational awareess" He also knew you were the one after 6 months when you don't hate him for being deployed. and Fuck him like a whore when he gets back (might be turning into a Gaz girl too...fuck)

Konig, my sweet sweet Schatz. He got the ring, but holds onto it for a LONG TIME. He is SCARED. Now he is a confident man in a lot of ways. In his skills, his size, his rank. He knows his shit and he knows it. However, you are his weakspot. Disappointing you is something that would kill this man. So he would spend months and months planning and making sure everything is perfect. Most likely a romantic dinner, private so he can remove his hood. SO you can see his whole face as he asks you. He would be shaking and when you say yes he has to ask "ReallY?" A couple times before getting a little too excited and scooping you up. Ya'll have the nastiest sex after too...

#i need it #ghost cod #ghost #simon riley x reader #konig imagine #konig headcanons #kyle gaz garrick #Wedding #Soap #john soap mactavish #captain price #PeePawPrice #Pleasethey could all propose and I would be on my knees next right after

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postmortemnivis · 7 months

Text

just thinking about how simon must feel after johnnys death and i feel it. it’s not about ghost and john, but simon losing his johnny. his best friend. soulmates aren’t always romantic, and they knew they were each others missing piece. the way johnny was there for simon anytime he needed someone was what hurt him the most, because he couldn’t pay him back. johnny was the first at base, along with price, that made simon feel like a human again, worth loving and worth having the patience for him to start trusting again.

johnny was a cheeky bastard, finding his way into people’s hearts and nesting there with jokes and smiles, hugs and his always loving manner.

simon will always cherish all the memories of the two of them together, but especially when they fist met. he’d go through the moments they spent together as if flipping the pages of a photo album. his head hurts just by looking at the box that gaz filled with johnnys belonging: his sketchbooks, his clothes, the picture he hung on the wall next to his bunk, everything. price’d stand by his side, a hand on his shoulder, ever the father figure of the boys, his boys.

i feel the emptiness and the grieve anytime i think about it and i know simon sees johnny in every empty place. he waits for a loud voice blabbing about whatever’s on his mind in a thick scottish accent anytime he walks into the mass room. his eyes looks for him anywhere, even when he’s in public and far from base he hopes to see a dark mohawk.

simon would be so reluctant and feel guilty about not contacting johnnys family immediately, but when he does he’s welcomed and treated like a son, a hero. everyone in the mactavish family knew about the lt. of course they would, johnnys loyalty and admiration for his best friend didn’t leave as he left base, it followed him around everywhere. he was proud that his best friend was a killing machine, he’d gone through so much and still was a human person, so hard to find in the ranks of the military.

simon can’t help but see johnny in the faces of his three little boys, his wife softly smiling at simon as they sit in front of the other in the living room that once echoed the loud laughs of johnny’s jokes.

“he really admired you.”

simon’s eyes met the woman’s. “i… i admired him too.”

“he’d always talk about you boys at the task force.”

“he’d always talk about his family.” simon tried his best to smile as he noticed a boy around eight standing on the stairs, looking at him in his pajamas. “he’d always show photos of you and his little boys. would call them his little troublemakers and-”

simon’s heart sank when the boy stepped into the living room light, standing next to his mother. he, like his brothers, was the spitting image of johnny. “ma?”

“go back to bed, baby. mums coming in a bit, there’s a friend that came to visit.”

“it is da’s friend?” the boy asked, his accent painfully familiar, “the one from the stories?”

the corner of simon’s lip twitched.

“yes, it’s simon.” the woman said, her left hand resting on her belly as the right one caressed her sons hair and simon only then noticed the small bump.

“did johnny know?”

she nodded, her eyes glossy. “he promised that’d be his last mission, i had finally convinced him to leave the military.”

simon only at that moment remembered one of his last conversations with him.

“lt!” johnny called.

“yeah?”

“i was just thinking,” johnny yelled over the loud noise of the helicopter, “that’s been a real honor fighting with you.”

simon sneered. “you gettin’ all cheesy?”

“nah.” johnny snickered, “jus’ thinkin’ i’d let you know.”

simon chuckled again. “what’s that for, scared of the mission?”

“nah, it’s just that the missus’ startin’ to get worried an’ all, y’know? was thinkin’ about reassuring her for good and stayin’ home with ‘er…”

simon’s smile dropped. “you want to leave?”

“don’t call it leaving, makes me feel like im abandoning ye.”

“that’s not what you’re doing?” simon joked.

johnny shook his head. “we’re friends, lt, we hang around together also outside base. i just want to make her happy and start spending real time with the little four troublemakers.”

simon nodded as he bit his lip, his gaze fixed on his feet. at the time he ignored the addition of a number to his children, not thinking much of the usual three becoming four. “sounds right.”

“no hard feelings?” he grinned.

“no,” simon looked at him, “let’s just get over with this mission and then we’ll talk about you going all soft.”

“not soft, lt,” johnny grinned, “just in love.”

#johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #why the fuck did they decide to kill him #i miss my baby #johnnys the baby

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michaelsfavgirl · 8 months

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ About me ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! My name is Kate, I'm nineteen, a Taurus and from West Asia.

✎ᝰ! I have been a fan of Michael Jackson since I was a child but I became a part of the fandom around 2019. My man is my no. 1 on Spotify every single year (yup, yup).

✎ᝰ! I actually had a book on wattpad about mike a few years ago and it was HURRENDEOUS, but I promise that my writing abilities have gotten better :)

✎ᝰ! Please feel free to send me anything in my inbox. (questions, requests, or if you want to simply chat anonymously) I would love to make friends on here and chat with my fellow moonwalkers! So don't hesitate. <3

Here are some random facts about me:

✎ᝰ! My hobbies: watching films, feeding into my delusions (writing fics about michael), playing the guitar, skiing, doing my makeup.

✎ᝰ! My top 5 musicians: Michael Jackson (obvi), Madonna, Queen, Nina Simone, Amy Winehouse.

✎ᝰ! My favorite films: Portrait of a lady on fire, Amelie, Mary & Max, The shape of water, The grand Budapest hotel and Knives out.

✎ᝰ! More facts: i LOVE cinema, it is an art form that should be cherished forever, professional procrastinator, reality shifter, fav color is green, big pop culture nerd, a little acoustic (autistic), addicted to watching edits on tiktok.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ Request rules ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! For now I only write for mj.

✎ᝰ! I will write: smut, fluff, angst, fem!reader, plus-size!reader, most kinks tbh (just ask don't be shy), creampies, dp, somnophilia, ddlg (sexual and non sexual), voyeurism/exhibitionism, watersports, age difference as long as both are of age, threesomes (only mmf).

✎ᝰ! I won't write: male/trans/non-binary!reader, ocs (I only write x reader), hard kinks, knife/gun kink, scat kink, drug consumption, pedophilia, rape, breeding kink, pregnant!reader, pregnancy kink, incest/stepcest, mommy kink, sub!michael, pegging, dom!reader, abuse, degradation kink.

✎ᝰ! Requests are always open unless stated otherwise in my bio.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ My tag system ⟡˚౨ৎ⋆

✎ᝰ! For answering asks: annie’s calling

✎ᝰ! For my writing: kate's writing

✎ᝰ! For thirst posts: dirty diana

✎ᝰ! For misc. posts: wanna be startin somethin

✎ᝰ! For reblogs: reblog

Last updated: August 15th, 2024

Thank you so much for reading! Have a wonderful day/night. ✶𓏲ּ꩜ .ᐟ

#navigation #blog info #blog navigation #about me #tag system #request rules #masterlist #taglist #tiktok #wattpad #twitter #michael jackson #ao3

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miyuhpapayuh · 1 year

Text

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Her red bottoms click against the black marble with each stride she takes, her fiery red curls flowing down her back.

Pushing through the glass doors, she pulls her deep burgundy, fur computer chair away from the desk and sits down, grabbing her buzzing phone.

“What?" Simone's sultry, yet irritated voice fills her ex-boyfriend's ears.

"Why you keep sending me to voicemail? You too good to answer me, now?" He spats.

"Anything I do is too good for you, B. I don't even know why I gave your dumb ass a chance, in the first place." She scoffs a laugh, pulling the phone away from her ear and putting it on speaker.

"Wow.... that's how you do me?"

"You cheated on me. What am I supposed to say to you? What do we have to talk about?"

"I keep trying to apologize—"

"Save it." She hangs up and blocks the number, rolling her eyes as she turns around and stares out of her big window.

"Boys."

"Indeed," Jada comes in with a bottle of champagne. Simone turns back around and laughs.

"Is it too early to celebrate?" She asks, sitting the chilled bottle on the desk.

Simone checks her watch and shakes her head, reaching into a compartment under her desk, pulling out two wine glasses.

"It's five o'clock and right about now!... I need a damn drink."

“Let's pop this bottle then, bitch!"

Pulling the cork out of the bottle, the popping sound echoes throughout the space. The fizzy alcohol slightly spills from the top and down the side of the bottle.

The clinking of their glasses and laughter is just what she needs, after another long day of being the best editor in chief in Atlanta, Georgia.

Allura has been her reigning domain for about three years and counting, and she's never felt so powerful.

Having one of the biggest offices with the nicest view on the corner of Peachtree was more than a lifelong accomplishment for her, especially doing it all at the young age of twenty-five.

“Congratulations! We all know that your name should be on every issue. I'm so glad that you're finally being recognized for all the work you put in to make us look fabulous!"

“Thank you, chica! You're up next!"

“Simone, you've got a call on line three,” her personal assistant, Logan, buzzes through.

Sitting her glass down, she pushes the little red button and thanks Logan, before picking up the phone.

“Hello?"

“That beautiful voice is one I could listen to, forever."

A deep chuckle rattles through the phone and down her spine, but she quickly recovers, raising her eyebrows at Jada.

“Is that so?"

Jada grabs the champagne bottle and her glass, before slipping out of the door. Simone laughs and shakes her head.

"Indeed. How's your day going?"

"Well, our next issue just went out and my name is on the cover.”

The excitement in her voice is unmistakable.

"That's incredible, princess."

she swoons at the nickname.

"I'm so proud of you. Did you celebrate?"

"Thank you and yes, my best friend and I popped open that damn champagne bottle that's been staring at me for weeks!"

"Weeks." He reiterates, making her laugh.

“I thought you were gonna wait 'til I made it back, to open it."

"Well, originally, I was— why didn't you call my phone? This, technically, isn't a business call."

The deep chuckle returns. "You're a very busy woman, Ms. Carson. I didn't wanna disturb you."

“Hm... fair enough," she sticks her tongue into her cheek, "enough about me... how are you?”

"As long as I'm talking to you, I'm great."

She giggles, sipping on the golden toned liquid that's left in her glass.

"When you kiss ass, you get both cheeks, don't you?"

“Hm, I guess I should pay you a visit, soon. You get a little rowdy, when I'm away for too long—"

“—is that right?," she cuts him off.

A pet peeve of his. He licks his lips and laughs, but she knows it's less than amusing to him.

“That's right. You like startin' fires, but I'm coming to put ‘em out."

She crosses her legs, smirking as her plan works, once again.

“When?"

“Soon."

“I won't be waiting."

A little lie never hurt anybody, right?

Lie on this phone, again, Simone."

She rolls her eyes as if he can see her.

"I'll see you when I see you."

She hangs up and steps away from her desk, heading out of her own office and further down the hall to Jada's. Walking into the creamsicle colored office, Simone takes a whiff of the cinnamon incense burning, before that amused chuckle fills her ears.

“That was a quick little conversation." Jada eyes Simone as she moves towards the window, with a sly smirk on her face.

“What can I say?" she sighs, "we don't beat around the bush."

"Mmhm. He gon' come beat them walls down, ain't he?" She asks.

A boisterous laugh escapes her, before she can stop it.

“Is he really?!"

The excitement is unmistakable in her tone as she moves from her chair to poke Simone's side.

“He's always poppin' up to put me in my place as he calls it."

“When's the last time he came down?"

“February," she replies.

"It's damn near May, girl!"

“I know, Jada. How do you think I feel?”

“I'd be dead by now, no lie. The way you talk about him, he's the truth."

Simone pulls on her open collar and sighs. "...with his arrogant, fine ass."

They both laugh and move away from the window. "So," closing her office door, Simone raises an eyebrow at Jada. "Where's lover boy?"

“Oh God," Jada rolls her eyes, "he's around here, somewhere. I had to shoo him away—"

“Why?!"

“Cause he's tryna make me fall in love with him! I do not wanna do that. We can fuck— we can do that all day long— but that's it."

"Yeah, right. You know you want him all to yourself.”

“In the nastiest way, possible.... yes."

"Hm.....well I'm gonna head home. Enjoy the champagne."

"I will! Text me when you make it."

"Will do."

Heading back into her maroon hued office, she grabs her phone off her desk and her bag from her bottom drawer, before turning off her lights and locking her door behind herself.

Heading towards the elevator, she pushes the button to take her downstairs. Her phone goes off with a message. The doors slide open and she steps on, pushing the golden button with the dim 1 on it, lighting it up. She pulls her phone out and scoffs a laugh.

Call me when you get home.

So you can harass me, some more?

Cut that out. I just wanna talk.

Stepping off the elevator, she makes her way down the wide hall and passes the receptionist, waving her goodbye.

“Have a wonderful night, Ms. Carson."

“You too, Liz."

Making her way outside, she heads towards her red Mercedes and gets in, plugging her phone up to her Bluetooth. Summer Walker's voice flows through her speakers as she makes her engine come to life. Instead of quickly going home to call the smug bastard that weakens her knees, she cruises down the street, watching as the pink sky turns into a deep orange.

"My last nigga was a bitch nigga I need a nigga wit bout six figures. Someone who know what to do with it, yeah Someone who ain't on that goofy shit..."

“Ugh," she turns down her street and slowly pulls into her driveway, cuts the car off and walks up the brick-lined sidewalk. Once inside her loft, she locks her door and kicks her heels off, heading into her living room to plop down on her sofa.

Running her hands through her curls, she pulls her phone out and shoots a text to Jada, before tapping his contact, watching the call connect after two rings, his handsome face coming into view.

"Don't you look gorgeous.”

"You got me beat, handsome."

"I could never.”

He props his phone up and places his salt and peppered, beard-clad chin into the palm of his calloused hand, his eyes wandering down the valley of her exposed chest.

"You left the house, like that?"

"I'm grown, yes." He laughs.

"Nobody had a heart attack?"

This makes her laugh.

"The usual perverts, but it's nothing I can't handle. How was work?"

"It was fine. Just a regular day at the office, honestly. I'll be glad when I can come back."

"I thought you could just do it, without needing permission?"

"It's a little more complicated, this time. I got some deadlines to meet and then I can be outta here."

The slight pout on her face makes him smile.

"You miss me, don't you?"

"Unfortunately." Her expression straightens, but he's unfazed. He even laughs.

"Nah, you blew that mean ass act, when I picked up the phone… callin' me handsome and flippin' your hair. Don't try it, now."

"That doesn't mean anything."

She props her phone up against the stack of records on her pink tinted, glass table and leans forward, her cleavage daring to jump from underneath the silk fabric.

"You're such a tease.”

"You like it, though."

Standing back up from the couch, she grabs her phone and heads upstairs, into her bedroom. He scoffs.

"My feet are killing me,” she stresses as she lets the phone fall onto the bed, while she pulls a navy blue bralette and panty set out.

"You're annoying, but your hands work magic. I could use that, right now." She continues.

Stripping out of her work clothes in record time, she ignores his chuckle and pulls on her set, grabbing the matching robe off her vanity chair.

"When I come back, you can get all the magic you desire."

"Can I, really?" She asks in a sarcastic tone, as she sits down at her vanity and props her phone up.

A deep sigh leaves as he stares at her. "Damn... you definitely can, babygirl."

"You should find a way to come back, sooner."

"I'll see what I can do, but I can't guarantee anything."

"But, I miss you," that famous pout returns, causing him to chuckle.

"I miss you more, princess. Quit pouting."

"I'll stop pouting, when you get here."

He shakes his head and stands up, walking into his kitchen. She hums to herself as she watches his back muscles flex underneath his shirt, with the slightest movements.

"Jesus." She mutters to herself, as he turns around to face the camera, his black sweats hanging low on his hips. Her eyes linger on his outlined print, causing a chill to creep up her spine.

"Did you hear me, babygirl?" His tone is full of amusement as he watches her eyes dart up to his face.

"What did you say?"

"You've got some gifts coming your way, tomorrow."

"What kind of gifts?" Her ears perk up.

"Just a couple of things to hold you over, until I return."

"You didn't have to get me, anything—"

"Yes I did. I know you still don't like asking for things, but we'll break you out of that. It's just a couple of gifts, I promise."

"But, babe," she whines.

"Imani. I've already told you, my money is yours to spend." She sighs, staring at her nails.

"I want you to take me out when you come back."

"Where do you wanna go?" He comes back to his chair, giving her a full view of his grown out beard.

"I don't know, yet. It's one of those restaurants where the flowers hang overhead and there's lights everywhere! I just wanna get dolled up, eat good, drink good... come back to my place and fuck good."

He raises an eyebrow at her, but she just innocently smiles. "You're something else."

"That's why you put up with me." She winks.

"That and many other reasons. But, I'll see about the restaurant and set everything up."

"Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome. What's on the agenda for tomorrow?" She groans at the mention of her backed up schedule.

"I've got a press conference in the morning. The building is supposed to be getting redesigned and my goofy ass decided to put my two cents in, and now I gotta sit in for the meeting after that. Then, I've gotta help Jada find her sister the perfect wedding dress, before next Friday— it's just a little too much going on."

"You've got this, business woman. Hard work pays off, right?"

She nods, placing her chin in the palm of her hand. "That, it does."

"It's all worth it, then."

Staring at the clock on the other end of her vanity, she sighs. "It's almost seven and I haven't eaten a thing."

"You drank on an empty stomach?"

"Yeah, but I only had half a glass. I might just order a pizza or something. And no, I don't want you to buy it for me. I'm still mad at you for paying my rent."

"You can front all you want, but I take care of mine. You keep your money in the bank and let me spend mine on you."

She rolls her eyes, fighting the smirk that makes its way onto her lips. "I'm hanging up, now."

"Why?"

"Cause, I can't fight you through this screen." He laughs.

"Keep that same energy, babygirl."

"It's kept. Goodnight." She blows a kiss.

"Goodnight."

˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇ෆ.₊̣̇.̑ෆ₊̣̇˟̑ෆ

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