#cod cheaters

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

In an angst mood. So you all get to suffer. Enjoy.

Life Line

Pairing: cheater!John Price x wife!reader

CW: cheating. mention of miscarriage. 18+

You're my lifeline, and you're trying to kill me. If I wasn't me, would you still feel me? Like on my worst days?

You sat quietly at the kitchen table. Glass of wine empty and dry, and you've been drinking right from the bottle. Your children are in bed, tucked in for the night after spending the day being spoiled. You went all out today, deciding that your daughter Iyana and your son Jackie could use the fun. After all, depending on how this conversation went, their lives were going to be changed drastically. On the table is your prenuptial agreement, something you thought you'd never have to get out and look at. Next to it is a manilla folder, and in that folder is the photos.

Photos and records of everything the private investigator had uncovered. You had this folder for two weeks before you opened it up. It wasn't because you were afraid of what was in it. No, it was because you didn't want to go crazy right away and leave your kids orphaned because you were liable to murder Captain John Price. Your husband of ten years.

You'd met him by chance. His task force had been assigned to working with the task force you provided contracted work with. You weren't some fancy soldier or government operator. You were just some woman who was good with numbers and analytics and noticing patterns. So it was inevitable that you would notice the pattern of your husband cheating.

It started small. He would be staying at work a bit later than usual sometimes. Maybe he would be out with his team at the bar a bit later than usual. But why would the bank statements not match up those nights? Two charges, one on the card and then a withdrawal for cash from an atm? He normally paid for his team after missions, so the first charge made sense, but the cash withdrawal not so much. Maybe it was for tips after drinking? No, because the withdrawal happened often, and from the account, that was his mad money. The account you only checked when you wanted to slip him money for something nice and fun, in the same fashion that he would do you. And it was always for the same amount, 600 pounds each time.

It spiraled from there. He was careful not to get unfamiliar perfume on him. Didn't get lipstick stains on shirts. What he didn't think you'd do was check his milage on his truck. From home to base was only 20 miles. Base to bar 10 miles. On Thursdays, when he works late, he comes back, and the miles are off for the week.

Patterns is what made you decide to hire a private investigator. And right after, you locked everything down. No sex on the account of your gynecologist saying "Mrs. Price, we're just worried about your cervical health. We need to monitor it."

John Price took it for what it was.

I don't care about the lights or the beams. Spend my life in the dark for the sake of you and me

The front door opens, and it's a Friday night that won't be soon forgotten. You hear John lumbering about. He's on the phone letting Simon know he got home just fine. You feel your insides curdle, and you wonder if Simon, who was the best man at your wedding, knew about this.

John walks past the dining room, putting away his phone, and he stops when the light flicks on. He looks like a deer caught in headlights as he stares at your carefully composed form. "Sweetheart?" He smiles that handsome smile of his. "You didn't have to wait up for me."

"I know John." You say, voice devoid of emotion. Despite the alcohol in your system, you don't slur your speech. "Have a seat. We we need to talk." You watch as his eyes flick down to the wine bottle and then back to your impassive face.

"You okay, Sweetheart?" He comes close and places a hand to your shoulder. His eyes finally land on the prenuptial agreement and the folder and he knows something isn't right. "Love, you've been drinking, let's get you to bed." He gently tries to urge you up and away from the table.

Instead, he hears the safety of a gun go off. And slowly, you press it to his side. "It's loaded. Now either you sit down and we talk, or I swear John we are about to see how serious we take those vows 'till death do us part'."

Even he knows not to test a civilian with a firearm. He glances towards the steps that lead to your children, and he decides its best to go along with this. He doesn't want the kids waking up. "What's this about?" His voice is calm and sturdy. He's in Captain mode, the version you first met.

"Open that folder, John, and tell me what you see." You finally look at him. Really look at him and see him for what he is. A liar, manipulator, and the man you gave 12 years of your life to, and pushed out 3 kids and suffering a miserable miscarriage while he was deployed.

It takes a moment, but he opens the folder, and the pictures spill out. It's photos of a woman, pretty and younger than you. Body still tight, never having to push out a kid and go through gestational diabetes. She's vibrant and young and looks similar to what you used to look like. The color drains from his face and his eyes snap up to yours.

"Sweetheart -" He says, trying to figure out where the photos came from. He's a captain in the S.A.S. He's always got his wits about him. "I don't know -"

"Keep looking John." You say and cross your legs. And there are photos of him with this woman, holding hands and kissing. He was careful to be nowhere near the frequent haunts you and him and the kids had. Her social media screen shots are amongst the photos along with bank statements with regular weekly withdrawals of the 600 pounds.

Your eagle eyes watch him closely. He sits down the photos and meets your gaze. At least he has the decency to do that. It's so quiet you can hear a a fly wash it's face. Your martial home knows that this is the eye of the storm. Next, you open up the prenuptial agreement, ignoring his excuses. They go in one ear and out the other.

"John Price. Remember when you said you wanted a prenuptial agreement since that first marriage was such a mess?" You ask. You flip to page 4 out of 5, and scan the page for lines 15.

"Sweetheart, you're drunk. Why don't we talk about this in the morning?" He moves the take the gun from you and you point it at him. "Put it down Love-"

"I swear I'll kill us both. Do you think I won't?" You say. "Now shut the fuck up and listen."

It's tense, and he really doesn't want to hurt you or have you shoot if he disarms you and wake the kids. He is the hostage for once in an actual hostage situation he has no control over. He lets out a deep sigh and scrubs a hand down his face. "Fine."

"Now. We have a clause that says, if either of us cheats, the offending party gives up 70% of all assets earned during the marriage plus child support and alimony if there is proof."

He visibly gulps. There's sweat on his forehead.

"There's the proof. I have copies with my sister." You say. "Now, either we can renegotiate the rules to our marriage or we can get divorced."

"Love, why don't we try therapy?" He asks, voice quiet. "I know it's no excuse but work-"

"Work is hard for you huh?" You say with a dry laugh, "you get shot at. Shipped off to fuck all nowhere on the regular."

"Sweetheart that's not what I mean. Things have just been different with us."

"When did they become different?" You ask. You already knew when. Last year, when the miscarriage happened. You became a shell of yourself, and when he got back from his disastrous mission, you comforted him. It was three months of hell. You had post partum depression with no baby to show for it. Your sexdrive nonexistent due to the antidepressants. The stress of taking care of the two kids you did have. Dealing with tears and meltdowns and crash outs while he was playing hero.

As expected, he stays quiet.

"John Price. I became a stay at home wife and mother at your request. Put my career on hold because you wanted the kids to have their mother home, so you wouldn't worry about us and our safety. Twelve years, gone just like that." You shake your head. "I know appearances are important to you and your military circle of higher-ups. I know this clause in the prenuptial agreement will ruin you financially. You and I both know you wouldn't want to explain why you're getting divorced to your family and why you have only visitation rights to your kids. So here's what we are gonna do." Your grip on the gun tightens. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your free hand.

"I still think we should revisit this when you're sober Love." He whispers. The shame is thick in his voice, in how he holds his shoulders.

"No. Your choices are we stay married and things appear normal. You can have your sugar baby or whomever she is to you. She doesn't meet our kids. You keep her out of our house. We won't share a bedroom or a bed. We still parent our children together. You have your fun, I'll have my fun. The same rules that apply to you also apply to me."

You both know that John is possessive. He never liked sharing. There have been times in your early stages of the relationship where her had proven as much. Mid-day fucking in his office, with him leaving marks that couldn't be hidden by your blouses. All because Allen, your coworker, got you an iced latte, or Drew smiled too long at you during information briefings. His jaw clenches and works, most likely grinding his teeth at the thought you being wrapped up in some other man's arms.

"No." He says, "That's not happening."

"Then you need to go and get you a divorce lawyer that can argue your case pretty damn well." You move to stand. "If you want to sleep on it. Do it on the couch or your office, but you need to have an answer for me tomorrow night after me and the kids get back from my parents."

You don't say anything else as you disappeared up the steps.

You don't see how he places his face in his hands and tries to fight back tears.

a.n: not sure who to tag... but I think you all would want to read. @gazsluckyhat @leahnicole1219 @uraeus56 @ilostthewar @lostintransist @lay-z

idk may do a part 2 that focuses on the fallout if there is a desire for it.

Part 2 (I ain't) Sorry

[lay-z]

Simon Riley is your nemesis.

cw/info: 18+ | time skip; cheating/infidelity; smut; angst; cussing; open ending

♰ [back to black | masterlist]

He’s here.

Standing on the opposite side of the field by himself under the old chestnut tree, his heavy gaze is glued to the lush grass of the soccer field. He looks slightly different than he did the last time you’d seen him a few weeks ago—a little more put together and somehow even bulkier. Strong.

He’s watching you, observing the way you walk over to the sideline, settling down next to the parents and waiting for the game to start while his heart is nearly bursting through his chest, sweaty palms stuffed into the pockets of his worn jeans.

Meanwhile, you could sense his presence before you could see him—you somehow always do—and after greeting the other parents currently present to watch their kids play, waiting for the game to start, you politely excuse yourself and make your way over to him.

It finally stopped raining three days ago, and now it’s a surprisingly warm and sunny April spring day; warm enough to wear one of your new dresses. Tommy, who turned five just last month, has a soccer match and while John is running errands with Annabelle, having a daddy–daughter day, you stayed to support your son.

The moment you start walking over to him, Simon straightens his broad shoulders; trying to keep his nerves at bay. He didn’t expect this to happen. You haven’t much as spared him a glance since your wedding.

He’s filled with tension, a mix of anticipation and trepidation building up in him as you approach, his eyes trailing over your curves, your new hairstyle, the way the sun dances off your dewy skin—

Bloody hell. You’re still the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on.

He clears his throat, looking slightly awkward, as you come to a stop right in front of him.

“Hey,” he manages, a hint of uncertainty lacing his gruff tone, muffled by his mask.

“Hey,” you greet back, slightly less awkward as you take off your expensive pair of aviator sunglasses to get a better view of him.

Even in this weather, he dresses in thick jeans, combat boots and hoodies. His skull balaclava secured in place.

“If you wanna keep a low profile, I suggest leaving that bloody mask at home, Riley.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smirk beneath the black cloth as he shrugs unapologetically. “Can't help it, pet,” he replies with a quiet chuckle, tucking his hands deeper into the pockets of his trousers.

It’s been some time since he’s seen you this up-close without any disturbance, and he uses the moment to study you closely, his gaze taking in every inch of you, lingering on the way your summer dress hugs your curves; how the colourful floral pattern on the crème-coloured fabric accentuates your complexion.

Seeing you dressed like this, all loose and free, makes his heart twist painfully in his chest. You’ve changed some since having your second child and his fingers itch to touch as his eyes flicker down to glance at you ample bosom.

For a brief moment, he wonders if you’re still breastfeeding.

“Mhm, sure.” You kiss your teeth appraisingly as you give him another once over before crossing your arms. “You came to watch Tommy play again.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you can't blame him for being here and trying to see his son grow up—albeit from the shadows.

You’ve been wondering how he knows when and where Tommy has his matches, he certainly didn’t ask John, but then again, it doesn’t surprise you at all that he keeps himself informed.

“That obvious, huh?” he mutters jokingly, lifting one corner of his mouth in a slight smirk. His gaze drifts off to the side, watching the kids running onto the field and warming up, their parents cheering them on. He knows Tommy is one of the fastest, never afraid of the ball, a bloody Liverpool fan—thanks to Price.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he looks back at you, his expression turning serious, but you caught that flicker of longing and sadness in his tawny eyes.

“I can’t stay long,” he adds, his voice low. “Just... jus’ wanted to see him, y’know?”

And despite everything, you can’t not worry about him.

Your stomach churns and you hug your arms around yourself tighter as you gaze up at him, squinting against the bright daylight without your sunglasses. John didn’t tell you about a new upcoming assignment, and the news don’t fail to piss you off.

“Where are you going?”

His gaze locks with yours, and even through the balaclava, you can see the slight frown on his face. Simon hesitates before answering, debating whether he should tell you the truth or not; he can tell that you don’t know about it yet. Finally, he heaves a heavy sigh and looks towards the field again, avoiding your gaze.

“Special Forces business,” he answers simply. “Can't say more than tha’.”

You let out an involuntary snort, a rather whimsical sound, before cupping your hand over your mouth and nose. “Sorry.” You make a dismissive small gesture with your other hand. “I just–”

Composing yourself again, you continue: “Uh, nevermind.”

You don’t want to mention John right now and how he usually always tells you where he’s going whether he’s allowed to or not.

However, Simon can practically read the thoughts running through your head, and another pang of guilt hits him.

“Listen…” he starts slowly, taking another careful step closer to you. “I–” he pauses, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your arms, your hair. He wants to feel you again, to hold you, to pull you close, to be near you. It’s been years since he last held you—his woman.

Your lashes flutter as he murmurs your name and suddenly, the warm air around you seems to fizz with tension. Dangerous tension, but you stand your ground; refusing to flee despite knowing better.

“What?” you rasp, tipping your head back to gaze up at him with bright doe-eyes.

“Use your words, Simon.”

His heart is pounding in his chest at the sound of your voice saying his name so sweetly, at the way you look at him, eyes practically sparkling in the sunlight. He can almost feel the electricity crackling around you, and he feels like he might go insane from it. He steps even closer, practically towering over you now, chest to chest, invading your personal space. His dark eyes are fixed on your face, drinking in every feature like he’s never seen you before.

His throat feels dry when he swallows thickly, his voice is gruff, raw with the emotions he’s holding back as his words rumble from his chest: “You know what, pet.”

The wooden door to the storage room falls shut behind you with finality; the sound echoing through the empty club house building while everyone is outside, watching the soccer games on the fields, enjoying the nice weather.

You should feel utterly ashamed about this—how easy it was for him to coax you away from the herd of your flock like the big bad wolf he is—but you cannot bring yourself to think about anything else but him right this moment.

It’s dark and dusty and you can barely see him except his large silhouette, thought you sure can feel him—big hands, once so familiar, groping and roaming over your body with urgency while you’re slowly backed up against the nearest wall.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the feel of his hands on you, at the way his body towers. His touch is rough, desperate, fingers digging roughly into your hips, your waist, and your thighs as he presses himself against you, pinning you against the chilly wall.

His forehead drops down to rest against yours, and his ragged breathing mixes with yours.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers gruffly, voice rough with need.

The words are stuck in your throat—I missed you, too,—but you swallow them down and focus on his presence instead, the here and now.

A brief indulgence, it’s what this is.

“Take your mask off.” Your hands are fisting into the front of his hoodie, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away for good.

And yet, you find yourself standing on your tiptoes like a lovesick schoolgirl to nudge your nose against his clothed one: “Kiss me.”

Simon takes a shuddering breath, his fingers gripping your hips tightly over your dress, his body trembling with the effort to not lose himself in you, to not fully give in to the desire coursing through his veins like molten molasses, but your voice, the way your fingers curl into his hoodie, the way you ask him to kiss you—it’s his breaking point. He doesn’t hesitate a second as his mask hits the floor carelessly. Fuck, he’s missed this.

He cups your face with both hands and his lips crash onto yours. God, you taste just the same.

The kiss is rougher than anything, all teeth and tongue; both of you drowning in your shared passion. It’s been so long, too long, and that knowledge makes him kiss you even harder, his tongue pushing into your mouth with a possessive need while he cups your jaw and squeezes to make you open up wider. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place against the wall, while his body presses you into it, trapping you there.

It’s like a shockwave to your system as his lips connect with yours for the first time in years.

Shock and awe, because this isn’t supposed to feel this good, this bloody right, and you should put a stop to this, but his chapped lips mould as perfectly to yours as they used to; his tongue licking into your mouth so eagerly that it’s taking your breath away; tasting of cheap cigarettes and peppermint gum.

You can feel your pussy throb and slick up within seconds while he sighs into your mouth; toying and nipping at your lips as playfully and feral as ever.

And it’s a losing battle. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak—

“I–fuck–” Holding his face steady in your hands while your breaths mingle and his forehead rests against yours, you can feel your brain short-circuit. “I need you.” I want you.

He’s drunk on you, on the taste, on the feel of you against him. Your ragged breaths, the feel of your fingertips, the little sounds spilling from your throat—it’s all driving him insane. His hand sneaks under your skirt, his calloused knuckles grazing your quivering inner thigh. So bloody soft.

Your words are his undoing, the ones he was never meant to hear again. He knows he doesn’t deserve this.

“You have me.” You bloody own me. The words come out guttural and raw, more of a growl than anything as his fingers dig into your flesh. A shuddering breath leaves your throat as the pads of his fingers slowly rub along your clothed slit, and he groans when he finds the cotton damp already.

Reaching out with a shaky hand, you cup his crotch in retaliation and feel a familiar bulge straining against his jeans, large and warm, and too big for your palm.

Simon lets out a deep, ragged grunt at your touch, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest as he feels your hand on him after so much time of neglect. He’s been outright starving for you, for the feel of your hands on him, the way your supple skin feels against his, and he grinds his shaft into your palm, his body trembling and his cock weeping into his boxers with need. His eyes are closed, and his forehead is still pressed against yours.

“Fuckin’ hell, I'm losin’ my bloody mind here, love.”

Cupping the back of his head with your free hand, you swiftly ruck up his hoodie and undo his belt before unzipping his jeans with your other hand. He doesn’t stop you, only breathes hard, and when you finally slip your hand inside and past his boxers, you slowly start stroking his throbbing cock, earning a deep exhale of relief from him.

There’s so much you want to say, but you keep biting your tongue and let your eyes fall shut as you touch and explore him, drinking in his reactions while you feel his thick shaft throb in your grasp.

Simon leans into you, his hips rocking instinctively into your hand as his cock twitches and leaks precum into your palm, the feel of your touch igniting a blazing fire within him. He’s been craving you so badly, his body aching for you. He’s drowning in the sensations, his brain short-circuiting as badly as yours.

Both his hands are roaming over your body under your dress skirt, exploring the curves he remembers so well, his lips leaving a trail of heated kisses on your neck.

“God, I–” he breaks off, his voice rough, “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much.”

“Yeah,” you rasp, brows furrowed in a pained frown as you keep rubbing his length almost reverently, stroking back his smooth foreskin until he hisses at the sensation. “Me too.”

Simon can feel the heat pooling low in his gut at your touch, your quiet admission, and he fears he might finish in his boxers at this rate, his breathing coming out ragged and harsh. He presses his hard, muscled body against yours, pinning you to the wall as he buries his face in the crook of your neck; inhaling your scent, the familiar smell of your skin sending a wave of emotions through him.

“I need more.” He breathes against your throat, chapped lips dragging over sensitive skin, teeth grazing over your pulse point while his hands grope your plush thighs.

“Then take it.” It’s all you can reply as a myriad of emotions threatens to choke you.

And when you give him permission, you can feel the rough pads of his fingers teasingly caress over your upper thighs and hips before he pulls and slips your cotton panties off your legs while his face never leaves the crook of your neck; shaky breaths puffing against your flushed skin. He gropes your ass cheeks with a string of muttered curses and chuckles at your squeak of surprise, when he squeezes them hard enough to make your pussy lips spread.

You swat at his biceps with a soft hiss, but that only spurs him on, and he rucks your skirt up before gripping the backside of your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly to wrap around his hips as he pushes you up against the wall.

You’ve almost forgotten how playful and passionate you tow used to be with each other, and for a split second, an almost carefree smile ghosts over your lips.

There’s a tense moment, a brief pause, where he’s holding you there, his fingers stroking the flesh of your thighs as he rubs the sticky tip of his cock through your slick folds. He takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips pressing against your forehead, savouring the feel of you against him.

“You're so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “For me, right?” He sucks in a breath. “Say it.”

You let out a small whimper, a pathetic noise in the dark of this dusty storage room. It’s a surreal moment; teetering on a nightmare and yet you’re clinging on to it. To him.

“For you,” you obey softly. “All for you, Si.”

The nickname slips out and then his cock slides in without any trouble, like he’s never left, like he’s been stretching you out every night like he’s supposed to. You gasp and groan in unison and your spine arches at the intrusion; toes curling inside your ballerina shoes as he bottoms out while your whole body buzzes deliciously.

You’ve gotten more sensitive since the pregnancies, and for a split second, you worry he might not like what he’s feeling, but then he lets out the most wanton moan—loud enough for you to swiftly clamp your hand over his mouth to muffle it momentarily.

“Fuuuuck.”

He’s truly losing his mind now as it spins with the feeling of you around him, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss as he feels you silken walls ripple around his rock hard prick. He’s home. There’s no better way to describe it. He’s missed this, missed you, the way you move, the way you feel, the sounds you make. He has to take a deep, grounding breath, his grip on your thighs tightening as he tries to calm his racing heart. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

He’s possessed, desperate and hungry; needing to touch every inch of you, to touch every place he’s been craving and longing for so badly. His lips find yours again, his tongue driving deep into your mouth. It’s a possessive kiss, raw and hungry, and he can’t get enough of you, of the taste, of the way your body fits against his.

“Touch me,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Your legs wrap tighter around his waist while your dress is tucked under your armpits, keeping it out of the way. Your whole lower half is bared to the warm air inside the stuffy storage room, rear pressing against the cool wall as he starts thumbing your rapidly swelling clit while you moan into his mouth. His admission that he’s been dreaming about this, about you, makes your pussy clench and flutter around his thick shaft buried deep inside your sopping walls.

And then, you obey him as you drag your shaky hands over his buff chest, feeling the fabric of his black hoodie under your palms. He must be sweating bullets and your mouth waters at the thought of your tongue licking over pale, scarred skin—lapping up his salty taste.

When you cup his face tenderly, you lean in to capture his lips once more; deep and passionate, eagerly swallowing his low moans.

He can’t get enough of you, of the feel of your skin against his, of the taste of your lips on his own. His body responds instinctively, his hips starting to rock slowly, the movements rough and desperate, like he can’t get close and deep enough.

“Love ya,” he grunts, his words raw and ragged. “Been so goddamn cold without you.”

It’s a confession filled with pain and regret, the words spilling out before he can stop them. He’s vulnerable, he’s broken, and he’s desperate as he presses you against the wall, his body trembling with the effort to hold it together, to not let the emotions he’s been bottling up tightly swallow him whole.

“Need you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice rough and strained. “Need ya so damn bad, love.”

You bite your tongue in return, unwilling to reciprocate his love confession yet. He doesn’t deserve to know that you never stopped loving him; that you never quite stopped being his despite the name Price engraved on your golden wedding band—the bloody ring that seems to be searing the skin around your ring finger in reprimand.

In your lust-filled frenzy, you’re tempted to take it off and throw it into the darkest corner of the room.

“Then fuck me like you mean it,” you retort instead as you wrap your arms around his neck to stay close, to breathe with him. “Our son is outside playing soccer with his friends and I don’t have any fucking time for this.”

His eyes darken at your words, a low, primal groan escaping from his throat. He obeys, because he always has; because he’ll do anything you ask of him, because he still has no damn dignity when it comes to you.

Simon grips you more firmly, his blunt nails biting into your flesh as his hips start to snap upwards. “Like this, huh?” he snarls. “Want me to make ya feel me, love? Make ya feel how much I fuckin’ need ya, how goddamn much I missed ya?!”

“That right?” you manage to grunt, still holding his face as you keep your forehead pressed against his, sweat now starting to make your skins sticky.

He’s holding onto you, desperate to keep you close, to make you feel him, make you feel and remind you how much you’re his. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breaths ghosting over your skin, and his words are almost a reverent prayer: missed you, missed you, fuckin’ missed you.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his grip tight and possessive, as his hips angle you towards him just a little bit better before he practically bounces you on his cock like a ragdoll; biceps bulging with the effort underneath his hoodie.

Soon enough, you can hear how embarrassingly wet you are while he pumps his hips and fucks you with deep, powerful strokes that leave you gasping and mewling for him.

“Fuck, baby,” you whine, lips brushing against his temple while his fingers dig into the plush fat of your ass.

Baby. It’s just one word, but it tears through him like a bolt of lightning. He loves you so goddamn much, he always did, and now, he’s drowning again, concrete weights pulling him under. He can hear the slick sounds of your body taking him so well, the way you whimper and whine against his ear. And he wants you to say it again, wants to hear that word spill from your lips again and again.

“Don’t call me tha’,” he grouses with a huff.

“You called me love,” you hiss in return, nipping at his cheekbone. “I’ll call you whatever the ah! f-fuck I want.”

He lets out a low growl at your defiant words, his powerful hips snapping into you with more purpose now; grunting and cheeks flushing at your comment, because you’ve always known how to get under his skin. He grips your thigh, pulling you down onto him rougher, his cock driving into you with determined, punishing thrusts.

“You,” he grits his teeth, “are goddamn infuriating.” Simon wants to shut you up, to make you focus on him, on the way you feel, on how good he makes you feel.

He wants you to say that you’ve missed him, that you’ve craved his touch, his presence. Something, anything to hint that you still love him, that you still need him.

The pleasure is almost unbearable and you go limp in his arms; too overwhelmed and too focused on your strange feelings at the same time. You can feel your orgasm readying to break you apart in his embrace, though you know Simon is right here, all too eager to catch you as soon as you fall.

As you bury your face in his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure, you suddenly feel your throat tighten and your eyes well up with fat tears.

Meanwhile, Simon can already feel you coming apart in his arms, can feel the way you tremble and clench around him. He knows the bloody signs; has studied them during his time with you. It’s everything he wants, everything he’s missed, and it almost undoes him. He clutches you close, one hand wrapping around the nape of your neck to hold you tight against him, and his movements become even more desperate, borderline frantic as the harsh sounds of skin slapping skin fills the small room.

Simon can feel the tears building up, too, feel the lump in his throat grow bigger until it nearly chokes him. He doesn’t quite know what cocktail of emotions he’s currently experiencing, but he’s too lost in it all to care. He’s struggling to contain himself; struggling to hold back his own sobs as he buries his face in your hair, his body shaking with the effort, his muscles tight. His whole body is taut with tension, getting lost in the way you’re making him feel.

He can’t hold back the words anymore; they come out in broken whispers against your skin: “I love you. God, I love you so fuckin’ much, I missed you, I love you, baby. I love you,” he utters like a mantra as his eyes squeeze shut, causing his tears to spill.

His words push you over the edge and rip you apart at your carefully mended seams, cracks and holes where he’s trying to sneak and settle in again.

And you’re too weak to deny him.

You cry out in pleasure and pain as you hold on to him; arms wrapping around his muscular neck tightly while your tears soak into the fabric of his hoodie, and you cream around his throbbing cock like your needy cunt has a mind of her own.

As if your body knows how to take him despite years of not having him; of being depraved from the man you love.

Simon can feel you, he can feel every inch of your body as it clenches and tightens around him, and it’s too much, too much, too goddamn much.

He can’t speak anymore, can’t do anything but cling to you, like you’re the only thing keeping him together. His hips are stuttering, losing their rhythm, and he’s so close, so damn close; trying to hold on, to savour this, but it’s too much, too much, and he’s breaking, he’s breaking, he’s breaking—

“Say it. God, baby, please jus’ say it,” he groans, begs, demands, his voice a ragged, desperate gasp. “Say you miss me. Tell me you miss me as much as I miss ya, love.”

You grit your teeth until your jaw aches, muffling your pathetic mewl as he fucks you to the brink of overstimulation. With your eyes squeezed shut, you whimper against his neck: “Come f'me, baby. Just, please... come–”

The sound of you, the words you’re panting into his neck—it’s not what he wants nor needs to hear, but he’s willing to take whatever you offer him, and it pushes him over the edge at last. Simon gasps out your name, his body shuddering, his vision going white. His balls draw up tight; his cock throbs violently as he fills you up with his needy load. He holds on to you, his bulky arms wrapped around you like a vice.

All spent, his body trembling, his head spinning, he keeps grinding his hips, desperate to keep his sensitive cock nestled against your womb. It’s intense, and yet he can’t stop the words that spill from his lips once more, as sincere as they are raw: “I love you. Oh, God, I love you. I missed you so much, loved you every day... every fuckin’ day.”

He’s losing himself completely, but he welcomes this madness if it means he gets to keep you at last. He can’t let you go, can’t bear to feel you slip away again.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and his chest heaving with the exertion. With a hoarse, broken voice, he rasps out the words again, pleading, begging you: “Please... say you still love me.”

Your heart is thudding so harshly in your chest that you fear a cardiac arrest for a second while your brain is filled with cotton, only slowly processing the moment—what just happened, what you’ve done.

Slow tears are still running down your burning cheeks as you pull pack to gaze at him, sniffling softly, and in the semi-darkness of this random storage room, you can barely make out the shape of his features, the blackness of his eyes.

When you cup his cheek with one shaky hand, you feel wetness beneath the pad of your thumb, causing your breath to hitch and your heart to shatter as you realize that he’s crying, too—yet you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“Why... Why does that even matter, Simon?” you croak out. “This won’t happen again. It–It can’t.”

He can hear it in your voice, the way you’re already pulling away, already shutting him out again.

It’s like a knife to his wretched, rotten heart.

He tightens his arms around you, refusing to let you go, refusing to let you slip away, and refusing to pull his softening cock out of your warm, welcoming cunt. His eyes are dark, his expression fierce, even with the tears streaming down his rugged face.

“Because it matters,” he says his voice rough with emotion. “It matters, dammit!”

He pulls you closer against his chest, his grip so tight it’s borderline painful, like he's afraid that if he lets go of you, even just for a second, you’ll disappear into thin air like a rainbow bubble that gets popped, and he won’t let that happen—won’t let you slip through his fingers like drift sand.

His grip is unyielding, his body tense as he holds onto you tightly, keeping you pressed against the wall. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing ragged as he tries to control the maelstrom of emotions that are surging through him.

“Please,” he whispers, “Please don’t push me away again.”

Your nimble fingers tangle in his hair roughly while you caress your other hand over his broad back soothingly, and you feel the damp, heavy fabric of his hoodie as his sweat soaks through it.

It’s so hot in the room at this point and the weight of what you two have done is starting to push down on your chest, making it harder to breathe all of a sudden.

“I’m married to John,” you weep into his neck, nails digging into his skull. “We have a baby together now and Tommy... Tommy calls him daddy, Si–” Your voice cracks and you hold him tighter, trembling in his arms.

“And I can’t forget what you’ve done to me.” To us.

His heart is clenching painfully in his chest as he listens to the words you’re saying, each one a stab to his gut, though he can’t hold back his desperate response nor the fresh wave of tears spilling over and dripping onto your skin.

“I know,” he says, his voice thick with regret, with guilt. “I know, baby, but I regret it. Every day. Every fuckin’ day I regret it.”

He frantically blinks away his tears as he trembles against you, and he knows how pathetic he must be sounding right now, though he cannot bring himself to care.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I will never fuckin’ stop lovin’ you.”

If you vote, please consider reblogging, liking, or commenting! Thanks :)

[meilinisalive]

imagine

you were isekai to be the villain who basically loves her husband but he cheat on her and so she tries to kill the mistress (yes ik the mistress deserve it) and he caught her and killed her what if you were the one like do not care type and just here for money cause that the only you stay you know the outcome of the villain so you just change it whenever mistress tries to talk to you (the Audacity) you just flip her off by 🖕and just walk away don't give an f your cheating husband tries to reprimand you is like this:

"Why the hell you dare to flip (mistress name) this is why I don't love you and chose her"

"Congratulations cause I would do too I also want a new husband the one to take care of my needs and loyal"

Somehow this bother him when a new Male became your butler he was sweet and basically giving malewife energy You see him and something about him just made you love him so one night you became drunk enough to somehow lure him to make love with you and you did not regret a hair.

After your husband mistress cheated on him too (well deserved) he tried coming back to you for support only to caught you doing lovely dovey with your male butler. And the butler smirk at him. Only then your husband start acting weird.

[rad0nwrites]

[MDNI]

No thoughts. Brain so very empty. Nothing but two bolts rattling around. Only thinking about NikPrice where Nikolai starts wearing reading glasses.

John had to literally leave the house for an hour to cool down because Nikolai looked at him over his glasses (you know the look) and John wanted to jump Nik’s bones.

“Alexa, is this the male equivalent of ovulation?”

Anyways, NikPrice where one of them are wearing readers and they’re having thoughts about the other and none of them are in the Bible

[simonxriley]

the more time that goes by the happier i am that i did not spend $70 on Bo6 bc holy shit 😬

[noobtubetv]

Reminder - TURN OFF CROSSPLAY

This is a reminder to all of you that the only way to avoid hackers is to play with crossplay turned off. When you get Black Ops 6 next week the FIRST thing you should do is TURN OFF crossplay. PC players don’t simply have the easy ability to buy hacks, but they can also change the settings for anything like sound, shadows, window transparency, and other things. If you are playing on PS4-PS5 I…

[smokey4191]

I'm making a channel/ page/something. WeAIcompile... I want to start by compiling a list of the cheaters from #nukejesus discord leaks... so we can see them in alphabetical order, and make it easier to reference it.

[presepohne]

mother dove | 8teen ／ nsfw ／ COD

main blog | all my works are nsfw, f!reader and sometimes x oc. the masterlist is kept updated when i post, except for drabbles. dd:dne contents.

001. recommendations 002. ao3 003. drabble tag

nsfw sideblog @ehonimon

notes;

i do not take in requests.

irregular with updates.

english isn't my first language, so there will be grammatical mistakes. you are most welcomed to correct me politely.

do not feed my works to ai.

you're always welcome to send in asks <3 please share your thoughts with me!

oneshots;

THE SKIN YOU LIVE UNDER ; cheater simon x reader

PEACHES AND WINE ; fuckboy johnny x reader

series;

HEARTBREAK LIQUOR ; arranged marriage au | simon ghost riley x oc pamela

THE RED STRING OF FATE ; omegaverse au | alpha!simon ghost riley x omega!reader

[tojisun]

call of duty masterlist - 03

01 mlist; 02 mlist; series mlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

all works belong to tojisun. all forms of reposting are not permitted; please do not translate, copy, revise and/or refine my works.

short legend:

❦︎ - nsfw

last updated: sep 03, 2024

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

- SIMON (GHOST) RILEY

hate fucking ❦︎

needy puppy ❦

the little things

somebody ordered a girlfriend? ❦

put on a show ❦

the apple that rolled over to the tree

she wanting more ❦

baptism ❦

crybaby ❦

sweet pumpkin, shyest munchkin ❦

it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

churning love - dubcon

somewhere, somehow

messy down your throat ❦

little burns - smau

to hunt a loved one - suggestive

dirty secret - suggestive

- JOHN PRICE

ads in your area - suggestive

new obsession - suggestive

cigars ❦

- KYLE (GAZ) GARRICK

the champ ❦

magic wand ❦

my girl - suggestive

on me - dubcon

- JOHNNY (SOAP) MACTAVISH

along the molars ❦

the pronebone chronicles - 01, 02, 03, 04

surfin ❦

- KONIG

creepy luv

- MULTI (cod)

cheater - established simon x reader; johnny x reader

my baby’s baby - ghostgaz x reader ❦

trust me… - 141 x reader - suggestive

ravenous - 01, 02 - 141 x reader ❦

silly games - pre-141 x reader

hate sex (pt2) - alejandro x reader x valeria

griffon, the pirate ship - dark!141 x reader

mommy’s good girl - poly141 x reader x valeria ❦

pretty pearl - price x gaz x reader ❦

the torn veil - poly 141 x reader

contingencies - 141

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[crowsquaks]

NaruHoshi gamer/streamer AU that's living in my head so I'm gonna write it out here and if it continues to live, maybe, I'll write a one shot.

Narumi is a very popular streamer/youtuber who mostly plays FPS and rouge likes. Still has a terrible personality but, like in the no.8, he backs up his terrible personality with his skill.

He's very entertaining to watch when he goes on COD and chooses to be a dick. "Hey chat watch this." Proceeds to get a 15 kill streak with throwing knives. (His ability gets him called a cheater often.) Most of his viewers come to watch him do really dumb challenges that boost his ego to pull off.

With his immense skill, the only time people ever see him distracted is when his lover is around. (It's so funny, people have compilations on when he's distracted off screen. "RT-0001 being distracted by LOVE.") No one's ever heard his lover on his streams or knows what they look like, but they have seen them in 1v1's. (Twin Blades is very well know in the community of not being a gamer, but still being way too good for how much they don't play.)

Narumi is surprisingly considerate of his lover's little care for fame, but its still Narumi, so he chose to be still be a brat and call him all sorts of pet names on stream instead. (Blade freak is pet name just like honey, pookie bear and buttercup. There's also a compilations for all the weird cute names he comes up with.) (Bastard is by far the most used in ... certain circumstances ... coughHoshinabeathisassina1v1againcough.)

That's all I got for now, lmao, get wreaked Narumi. c

[lay-z]

Aye, cheater!John Price, but you're his bloody temptation.

Thoughts?

[diejager]

Question. Any recommendations of creators that write angst of cod characters x y/n? Looking to have my heart strings ripped out. Like the cod characters regretting having hurt y/n emotionally? you know? Please and thank you.

Oh boy, I like angst as much as the next person, but when I really think about it, nothign comes up…

Dogfights because I’m not Human Enough by MilkTeaMagic on AO3 (Ghoap x reader)

A House in Manchester by babycarrotsorbet on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Pretty by itsalwaysdarkhere on AO3/@ghostofthemost141 (Zombie!Ghost x reader)

Chink In The Armour by @groguspicklejar (Ghoap x reader)

Heart Infection (Hiatus) by Polymerclay_Heart

Baby Blue by kechiwrites on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Quiet When I’m Coming Home by ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Ascensionism by alaendril on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

I’m Yours But You’re Not Mine by Cosmogi (Ghoap x reader)

Der König Und Henker by Ilovetrashiefanfiction on AO3 (König x reader)

Alone Again by Did_Ask_Do_Care on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Hold Me Like A Knife by cheyis on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Bittersweet memories and One last mission by CODFanFicedits on AO3 (Ghost x reader)

Spectrum reader by @charliemwrites

Dark Nights Bring Brighter Days by annarobszombies on AO3 (Tf141 + König x reader)

Dead Disco by @peachesofteal (Ghoap x reader)

Cheater!Soap by @gogh-with-the-flow

Mann Gege Mann by @yawnderu (Nikto x reader)

The last one that comes to mind is uh.. I forgot who wrote it but it’s about the reader being wrongfully accused for being a traitor and tortured. I read it a few days ago, but I can’t remember or find it TvT

I hope this helps! AO3’s filter is really nice to find Angst or Hurt/no comfort.

[tempfrangit]

Disclaimer — this is a 🎶Disclaimer🎶 — you are responsible for what you read and how you choose to interact with media. I try to tag everything accordingly and have everything laid out as best I can because it is never my intention do to anyone harm. Remember to both block tags and use filters so the tags I put on things to stop you from seeing are actually caught. If something specific needs to be tagged, let me know and I will do so.

🟢- General Audiences 🟡- Mature 🔴- Smut/18+ ⚫- Dark Fic/Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

CoD -

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🔴

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🟡

- doe-eyed, 1.4k, You're going to let some alpha fuck you because you're broke and just happened to get the call. Thank you for your service. 🔴 (abo fic, dubcon, breeding kink)

- johnny becoming obsessed with reader 🔴⚫(gn!reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, stalking)

- wonder when you'll miss me, multi-chapter cheater!Soap fic 🟡(cheating, unplanned pregnancy, hurt)

- dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ forgiveness starts with you, ~300 words, sacrilegious sex with soap 🔴(f!reader, tribbing in a church)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader: + giving thanks, 503 words, An American your whole life until work brought you to England, Thanksgiving was your favorite holiday. Your boyfriend cements that for you. 🟡 (very light smut, suddenly poly) + dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ good girl — ghost x reader, 1.3k, hybrid au inspired by @/dante-mightdie’s post 🔴 (f!reader, breeding kink) Captain John Price x Reader: + what's a bad miracle?, 5.7k, your dream is finally in the process of coming true when you receive the worst call of your life. or just the worst call of your life so far. 🔴⚫ (ex-wife!reader, possessive behavior, voyeurism (accidental and implied non-accidental), drugged sex, non-consensual somnophilia, breeding kink, forced orgasm, implied forced impregnation, forced cheating, rape, dead dove: do not eat) + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Poly 141 x Reader: -

PriceNik x Reader: + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Fallout -

- luck be a lady tonight, [Barb Howard x Mr. House], 3.8k, A small piece of her feels something like pride at this potential show of interest. Another part is completely flummoxed. Barb laughs lightly before shaking her head at herself. She was no starlet. 🔴 (vaginal fingering, piv sex)

[sirenmoth]

Unrequited

Any COD Man insert x GN!reader

CW: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, mentions of cheating, emotionally unavailable relantionships, military men like to move fast, and yes that is a red flag

It was hard, you knew it would be when you first accepted to date him after only seeing each other for a few weeks, you agreed to let yourself be his. You agreed to long months, sometimes a whole year or more, alone, to the nights tossing and turning, sleepless, in a bed that felt too big. To the tossing and turning from him, sleepless, when the horrors of the battlefield followed him home, of war and what he witnessed out there, tormenting his every unconscious thought. Getting used to the calm and peacful life, a domestic life, away from the bloodshed and death, the pain and the stress, was difficult and you never clamied to understand his stuggles, his pain.

You were complacent, understandably so, hoping to be his rock for when he retured, hoping he could relay on you the same way you relay on him. You knew what he did for work, what he begrudgingly told you at least, he told you of the enemies he's made who would any and everything in their power to hurt him, even if it meant using you to get it. So you stayed quite, never asked for anything extreme, never complained about him missing a date or judged when he forgot your birthday. He never talked to you about how he was feeling, his life, what little he mentioned of his job was vague and short, asking how a misson went got you even vaguer and shorter answers, so you never pushed.

You tried, oh how you tried, for so long you tried to save this inevitably sinking ship, but as the weeks turned to months, months turned to years. You couldn't take it, not anymore, you felt used, unloved, unappreciated.

Were you only here to keep his bed warm when he got home?

Did he have someone else for that? Military men are known for being cheaters, visiting bars and brothels, local clubs and barracks bunnies while having loved ones at home begging for a nice date out or just to spend some time with them. You've read the stories and heard the tales, a lonely lover at home while their other half gives everything up for a few moments of pleasure while away in a differnet country halfway around the world, how it tears families apart.

You didn't want to be another victim in the sea of statistics.

Was he cheating? You never saw him as the type. Yes, you had to beg sometimes to spend time with him or ask him several times to take you out on a nice date, but he never seemed the cheating type. That was until you began to notice the small things, his late night arrivals home from the bars, the scent of cheap body mist, the constant outings with co-workers and friends he would use as excuses for missing the plans you made for each other.

You met them once, his friends, they didn't pay you much mind, a small hello before ignoring you, so you sat at the far end of the booth of some random pub, watching as your man was practically eye-fucking some random bar patron.

You brought up the idea of having a child once, or a pet, something to fill the empty silence, make things feel less lonely, he got mad at you for it, shouting that you were being desperate, needy, deemanding after everything he does for you. You argued back that he hasn't done a single, damn, thing for you, that he's never here, he missed your friends wedding, your new job promotion, your mothers funeral, he's missed so much it was like living with a stranger.

But bringing a child into this life wouldn't fix anything, fix yours or his mistakes, you didn't want that for them. Bringing a child into a broken home wouldn't fix it, a child staying up late at night, wide awake, questioning 'when's daddy coming home?', questioning if he's even coming home alive. You didn't want them to suffer for the chocies you made, for the man for chose to love.

The stress of this life, the constant moving and them having to be the new kid every few years, never living in a permentant home, never having permentant friends, getting asked if their daddy was coming to a school event or their birthday, knowing full well he wasn't, getting asked if they even have a dad, would forver traumaties them, forever scar them.

That was it for you, the last straw.

Tired, that's all you could feel was tired. Tired of asking to be taken out on a small, simple date, one where he was actually attending, asking if he thought you looked nice, asking to be loved.

Tired of him asking you things he should know, when are you getting that job promotion, when's your friend getting married, when's your mother visiting.

You waited until he was sent away to leave, you packed up your things, was there anything of his even here? He spent so much time away or at the barracks on base or in his office, you had gotten used to the cold, empty feeling the house brought, the house you hoped the two of you would call home. Room by room, you packed, taking everything that was yours, leaving nothing behind to remember you by.

Would he even notice you're gone?

You left a few detailed letters, placing it in a location you know where he would see it. The letters detailed everything, your thoughts, your feelings, your concerns and worries, how and were everything went wrong, on your part and on his, how you left like second place to his job and his potentially other partners and lovers. How you tried so hard to make it work, how your tried to be patient hoping he would come around and open up, how you cried on those nights alone in the bed you both once shared, alone in a bed that didn't feel right.

Explained how he didn't do right by you, nor you to him. Explained that you hoped over time things would settle and that you wouldn't have to ask for the bare minimum, but it never happened, nothing changed. How you tried to fix the unfixable while he never bothered to try at all, there was no happy ending or bright future for both of you, you have come to accept that now. It was never meant to be between you two, but you hoped he found someone, someone who could give he him want you couldn't, love him like you could never. Someone who gave him everything and was the complete opposite of you.

You'd be long gone by the time he arrived hom from his deployment, with the extra time he'd spend out drinking or on base, you'd be in a new home with a new job position, a brand new life you built for youself, a brand new life to heal.

Maybe it was the wrong time, maybe you both should've met sooner, or later, maybe this all could've been avoided.

Maybe it was never meant to be.

You don't know if he tried calling or texting, tried reaching out to fix thing after it was already long broken beyond repair, you made sure he couldn't find you as best you could, wanting to leave that chapter of you life, that chapter of sorrow, behind. You wanted to move on.

Has he moved on?

Has he already forgotten you? Did he even care or did he just go bury himself deep inside someone else?

You met someone a few months after leaving, a kind man who took you out on dates without you needing to ask, told you look nice, beautiful, gorgeous. A kind man who went to you friend's wedding, your work parties, accompanied you when you visited your mothers grave. He is everything you could ask for and more.

A warm, bright smile spread across your face, so big it hurt. When was the last time you smiled like this? He took you out on a date, a bar to celebrate your new promotion to a higher branch, he told you how proud he is of you. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company like nothing else in the world mattered.

Both of you blissfully unaware of a certain militray man looking you across the bar with his friends, a look in his eyes like his world was burning down around him, as he watched the two of you, like he lost the most valuable and precious thing in the world.

But that was lost when you left him, leaving nothing those letters behind. It was lost when he didn't fight for you, when he didn't treat you right.

It was lost when you said enough was enough. He never tried, he put his work first, put his own selfish desires and needs before yours. He was never there, he was always with on a job or with someone else, he was never there to love you, to cherish you, he was never there when you needed him but you alwasy made sure you were there when he needed you.

And he lost you because of it.

Now he's watching you from across a bar, his friend drunkly chatting but he's not listening, he's watching you get everything you ever wanted, everything he never gave you gettting given to you by a different man. A better man.

A man who he will never be.

[vivgst]

COD Headcanons

I mean they're not hc it's just shit I think they say/do but I needed the title okay?

As I previously said this is just my silly little opinion, I would love to read yours but don't take this too personal and I'm saying this cause Imma bout to write SHIT about two characters and I'm scared cause they're loved by the whole fandom.

Okay thats all thanks<3333

Let's start with my favorite piece of shit, shall we?

Alejandro Vargas

I don't care what yall say this man is a CHEATER and he would make you feel guilty about it too because you're not "meeting his needs".

“I’m not sexist???? We cannot do the same things, it's basic biology!”

Maybe he's good in bed, let's give him that.

Alain meza said he loved Rudy so let's assume he's bi, uh... he wouldn't admit that shit, not in a million years, probably would get offended if you even dare to suggest it.

He doesn’t argue to fix things, he argues to repeat how much in the right he is, I feel like he NEVER admits he’s in the wrong, he seems very stubborn.

Now can we address that fucking temper of his? Breathe mf, no ones gonna die if you stop yelling for a second.

I feel like he must’ve had A LOT of trouble when he just joined the army because of his anger issues, think about it for a moment: someone with a higher rank yelling at him and you think he just took it? I doubt it.

MUST HAVE fought with Valeria more than once cause that temper of hers is just as shitty.

I promise I don’t hate him, well I do but he’s one of my favs, I don’t know how to explain this bye.

Simon Riley

He’s very chill I love him <3

I think of him like a very nostalgic man, he thinks a lot about his past, past lovers, past experiences, when he was new in the army, you know? Not in a “I’m still traumatized” way, he’s just nostalgic.

He’s absent minded, he’s always daydreaming (when he’s not doing something important ofc).

Thin and I don’t fucking care, THAT MAN IS THIN, you can even see it sometimes!!!! He’s got chicken legs, I love them.

He really seems to enjoy dad jokes.

He cares a lot about his teammates and I love it, it’s very cute.

Can we talk about how everyone put him as a fucking beast in bed? I don't see it, I think he's ruthless when he needs to but I don't think this applies when it comes to sex, he suffered a lot too and sadly I know too well that sex is pretty fucking terrible after rape, especially because you feel like you're gonna hurt the person you're having sex with so...

John MacTavish

Typa guy everyone loves, even your dad and your grandma's always saying how handsome he is.

Maybe he was bullied bc of his accent but he just told them to go fuck themselves.

Caring and loving, buys his partner flowers and their favorite candy/chocolates/desserts.

Remembers anniversaries, birthdays, medical or school appointments.

Too charismatic and funny.

Kyle Garrick

He’s too good for his own good… I feel like he always end up going out with INSANE people, the jealous type, they’re always bitching and making him angry and stressed but he forgives them cause he’s an angel.

Very sweet, loves cooking for people he loves.

Kinda family oriented.

He smells good, I can almost smell his perfumeeeeee he smells good, he spends MONEY on it too.

Even the devil is afraid of him when he’s mad.

I think he's very private about his life in general, doesn't like to vent his problems.

Hot lover.

John Price

Now this man is a FATHER, my fucking dad I swear.

He seems pretty conservative to me, not in a bad way like he wants you to be his personal maid and slave, more like he wants to date to marry, hates casual sex.

Loves whiskey.

Dad energy, he would be so caring and loving with his child, he would give that baby the moon.

I don’t think he would love to date a younger woman, not a woman in her twenties at least, I think he would be into women his age.

If you feel disappointment by that, maybe you could try fixing your relationship with your dad, sweetheart ;).

Hates confrontation and loves to work things out.

Let’s not talk about how sex with be with the old man, okay? Thanks.

He's not that old, I get that but he looks like he's fucking 68.

Phillip Graves

He looks kinda daddy in that pic, not gonna lie.

“How come you don’t want to have sex? What about me? Have you thought about how that makes me feel? If your head hurts, sex would help but you never consider me, I’ll sleep in the couch”.

A selfish, self-centered bitch, only thinks about himself.

Feeling good having sex with him? Aw baby, try again cause this mf would use you like a damn toy and he couldn’t care less about your feelings or how much pain you’re in.

Cheater, he wouldn’t even be quiet about it. “Oh you want to divorce me? And where are you gonna go, sugar? You’re nothing without me”.

Doesn’t fucking know where the clit is, he doesn’t have a fucking clue.

Of course straight, loves to be white and American.

“Of course I can say whatever I want, I’m from America I have freedom of speech”.

Fuck you graves.

Rodolfo Parra

Perfect.

He seems so sweet and kind and considerate I love him.

Smart as hell, probably got the best grades when he was a kid.

Doesn’t hate anyone, no one hates him.

Loves nature and animals but he can’t enjoy it too much cause he is always busy.

Dreams about having a big family and a dog (a golden, probably).

Forget about having rough sex UNLESS he’s mad (fr mad like losing his shit but that doesn’t happen frequently).

Could be a teacher if he wasn’t in the army, he’s very patient and can explain things easily.

Have a pretty smile.

Valeria Garza aka MAMI

Feels like she needs to prove something, she was underestimated for so long in the army that now she’s always trying to prove to herself how badass and good at her job she is.

Almost no one knows the real Valeria, her favorite things, music taste, if she prefers cold or hot, coffee or tea etc.

She hates cold weather with all her MIGHT.

Likes to smoke only when she’s stressed.

Likes animals but thinks they’re so much work and she doesn’t have the time.

Did drugs once and hated it.

Feels guilty when she spots a church but she WOULD NEVER admit this shit to anyone.

Used to the worst of life so she didn’t like when someone is kind with her, is like “tf am I supposed to do with it???” but she gets used to it eventually.

I don’t think she has anger issues but def she doesn’t fucking know how to regulate her emotions, she lets stress take over her.

She would love a narcowife, kind of woman who wears a lot of beachy dresses and have a shitty personality like her (like Kate del Castillo in La Reina del Sur or in Bad Boys, exactly that kind of narcowife) (I’m kinda projecting, sorry lol).

I can’t picture her with a sweet girl and I think a sweet girl wouldn’t be able to handle that woman.

She keeps arguing even though she realized she’s in the wrong.

She wouldn't be able to spend a lot of time with her S.O, she's such a workaholic.

I don't think she likes to wear men clothes.

I don't think she hates kids but I can't picture her with kids.

Wouldn't divorce once she's married.

Btw I didn’t want to make this too sexual bc lately this fandom is full of just that, too much smut, too much violence and rape in the smut and it’s so graphic that I feel I’m watching instead of reading wtf, its uncomfortable and I honestly can’t picture the characters being that violent and vile.

As I said in my previous hcs… these guys are surrounded by violence, stress and blood every day, I personally don’t think they wanna get home to torture their partners (well, maybe graves cause he is a piece of shit that mf. Okay kidding, not even Graves is that much of a bastard).

[presepohne]

COD | nsfw | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

DRABBLES ; second person pov

Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

Fuckboy!Johnny x Virgin!Reader

Fisherman!Simon x Mermaid Reader | Part 1. | Part 2. | Part 3.

John Price x Stalker!Reader

Boyfriend!Simon x Reader ; Simon is a certified thighs guy

Cheater!Simon x Reader

Johnny x Reader ; Cockwarming

Simon and his love for blowjobs

Gentleman Gaz fucka rough

Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

The way Johnny Price worships

peaches and wine drabble