#cod fic

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight’ series)

The newlyweds hold each other close, bodies swaying in time with the music that plays through rented speakers in the dance hall, their loved ones gathered around to watch their first dance.

Every guest in attendance is sporting a smile as they gaze upon the happy couple, some even have tears brimming close to their lash lines, threatening to spill over. There is no doubt that today is a day every in attendance will remember for a long time.

You and Simon however…

Well, the two of you are happy for the newlyweds, of course, no doubt about it. You’re very grateful that your sister included you in her wedding party. But when one of Simon’s large hands happened to slip into yours when the DJ asked everyone to gather around the dance floor to watch the couple’s first dance, he hardly had to give you much of a tug to steer you towards one of the darker corners of the decorated space.

Turning to face you, he offered you his extended hand along with a raised brow in question. Slipping your smaller hand into his bare palm, both of you pointedly ignoring the spark that shot through your nerves at the slight touch, you allow him to hesitantly pull you closer and closer, until there isn’t any air left between your bodies, your figures moulding together as though you were simply chunks of clay on a pottery wheel, two separate pieces becoming one.

Instinctually, as though the two of you have held each other like this countless times beforehand, your arms snake around his neck while his large palms come to land on the small of your waist, the room too dark for you to see how his hands hold the slightest tremble to them

Simon can’t recall if his hands have ever shaken while on duty, and if they have, it was in the very early days of his career, too long ago to even be remembered. His confidence in himself and his abilities too strong to allow for any nerves to seep through and put a tremble in his steady hands. With you however…

When it comes to you, Simon finds himself in uncharted territory, in unfamiliar waters. He doesn’t have anyone on comms to tell him how to do this, no briefing to go over the plan, no Captain giving him orders he can follow to a T like the good soldier he is. For someone who had become so used to working solo for years, he’s finding himself at a constant loss when it comes to pulling the trigger with you.

But now, with your smaller body held so gently but firmly in his strong arms as you sway together to the melody, no one else aware to the private moment you two are having in the shadows, he can’t imagine going on any longer without this being his reality. No more pretending, no more charades, he wanted the real thing. And that alone terrified him more than any RPG or close combat fight ever had.

As the night wraps up, Simon hangs back and watches you hug your sister and new brother in law, watches you bid your goodbyes to fellow friends and family members, watches you fetch a coat for an older aunt who’d misplaced it, watches you ruffle your young nephew’s hair as he sleeps on his mothers shoulder, watches you spin and stroll and saunter about the space leaving everyone you interact with wearing a smile, all while he thinks to himself, wife wife wife wife wife wi-

My wife

If you would have asked him, he planned on blaming the slight breeze outside during your walk from the venue back to the car, as to why he removed his blazer and draped it over your shoulders. But like everything else that happened between the two of you, you didn’t question it, instead choosing to enjoy the warmth that the jacket emanated, along with the lingering smell of Ghost clinging to the fabric

Nor did you have anything to say when you felt his pinky finger brush yours once, twice, three times before he was threading his thick, calloused fingers together with your softer ones, each of you silently relishing in the others touch

As he did every time the two of you happened to drive together, he opened your door for you, still holding onto your palm as he helped you in. Tonight however, unlike any other time, instead of shutting the door and coming around to the drivers side right away, Simon instead grabbed ahold of the seatbelt before you had a chance to, slowly reaching over you to buckle you in, your cheeks warming at the gesture

The drive back to base was quieter than usual. Already known for being a man of few words, you had grown accustomed to the way you apparently brought the fearsome Lieutenant out of his shell for you and you only. You occasionally filled the otherwise comfortable silence with comments about the wedding, remarks about the decor, complaints about the music choice, joking about how much fun you’d had introducing everyone to your husband, all while he sat quietly in the drivers seat

Though his ever stoic expression did not betray his inner thoughts, his mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to open his mouth and just say what he wants to say. He remembers learning somewhere that car rides are often a useful environment for having difficult conversations, as it is easier to talk and let things out without having the pressure of someone watching you, and you looking back at them.

He has to do it. He will do it. If he doesn’t do it now, when else will he ever work up the courage to say what he’s been feeling since the very second he laid eyes on you and knew who you would be to him

“-honestly though, I don’t think anyone was expecting my uncle to start dancing like th-”

“Love, can I-” Simon interrupts you, his hands tightening around the steering wheel as he takes a steadying inhale and braces himself. You glance at him for a moment, not minding that he’s cut you off, as you’d been wondering what was going on in that head of his, almost able to hear the gears turning in his brain as he drove. “I need to say somethin’.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t-” He can’t help but take another deep breath, unsure of how to go about this. “I don’t know how to-”

This time, it’s you who cuts him off, when you shift in your seat and reach a delicate hand out to rest on his bicep, offering the slightest squeeze of reassurance. He takes his eyes off the road just long enough to glance down at where your hand lays on his muscle, feeling as if his he’s been shocked where you touch him, even with the clothing separating your skin from his, the simple gesture giving him just enough confidence to say what he needs you to hear

“I don’t have much to offer you, love.” He begins by saying, his death grip on the steering wheel loosening more and more every second he feels the weight of your hand still resting on him, letting him know you’re there. “My job- it’s dangerous. I know you know that, but I haven’t a family member left alive because o’ what I do. I haven’t a single friend outside o’ my own bloody task force. I’ve got a small flat in the city I only see maybe five times out o’ the year. I don’t- I don’t have much, love.”

Simon takes another breath, grounding himself as he feels your thumb stroking his arm through the fabric of his button-up, still listening to him, still here with him.

“But if I had you, swee’heart. If I really had you, had you as my wife,” he has to stop to clear this throat, his emotions seeping through into his words. “If I had you as my wife, I’d have the whole world. That’s all I want. All I need.”

It’s your turn to stew in silence for what in actuality is only a few moments, but for Simon it feels like an eternity and a half, every possible worst case scenario he’d ever thought up flashing through his mind with every passing second you don’t say anything.

“Wait,” you finally reply, the storm in his head halting at the sound of your voice. “Simon, do you- are you- are you saying you like me???”

That… that was not what Simon was expecting you to have to say after all that

“Er- yes.”

“Simon!” You squeal, the gentle hand on his arm now swatting at him repeatedly. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?! I had no idea!”

Were it anyone else, Simon would be downright bewildered with how truly and utterly blind you’ve been these past few months, only now putting two and two together as to his true feelings for you. But because it is you, he can’t help the light chuckle that slips free from between his lips

“You know what, you’re right lovie. I should’ve been more clear.” He says, only half-joking.

“But wait, I- I don’t understand. You- isn’t there someone else? I mean- I helped you pick a ring for someone-”

You watch as Simon readjusts his grip on the steering wheel so that he’s driving with one hand, the other reaching across to the glove compartment in front of you, pulling it open to reveal nothing out of the ordinary; the car’s starter manual, a flashlight, an extra pair of gloves, a ring bo-

A ring box

But not just any ring box

You know it as soon as your eyes land on it, and you can’t help the gasp that comes out of you, even this late at night in the darkness of the car with shadows whooshing past constantly, you recognize that box right away

You helped pick it out after all

“It’s your ring, love.” You hear Simon whisper, his outstretched hand hesitantly reaching out to smooth over your knee, recognizing that things are starting to make sense to you after all this time. “It could only ever be for you. There is only you.”

Your trembling fingers pull the box from its hiding spot, bringing it to rest in your palms on your lap, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing you ever held

You don’t realize that Simon is pulling the car over to rest on the curb, until you feel the parking brakes being put on, your eyes finally glancing up to meet his own steady gaze. Gaze locked with yours, he slowly reaches out to pluck the box from your hands, tilting the top open to reveal the very same piece of jewelry you’d unknowingly chosen for yourself. But your eyes never drift down to catch the diamond sparkling in the light, instead staying directly on his, something much more precious and priceless unfolding between the two of you

You’ve known Simon for months now, have spent countless hours talking, laughing, getting to know each other more deeply than anyone else has known you in years. In all that time, never once did you question his mask, nor did you ever ask to see what was underneath, respecting that it was part of what made him him

Now however, your eyes widen as you watch his fingers slip beneath the ear loops of his simple black medical mask, before he slowly brings it down, revealing a scarred, pale, vulnerable, and handsome face beneath

The gesture is not lost on you; Simon is truly baring himself completely to you, no more hiding behind jokes or masks or anything

“Love,” he begins, clearing his throat once more before he asks the most important question of his life. “Would you make me the happiest man alive and marry m-”

You’ve cut him off again

But not with your words, nor your reassuring touch

No, this time you cut him off by reaching forward to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulling him towards you, lips meeting in a passionate crash that feels as though time has stopped and the earth stands still, a feeling that leaves you certain that no one else on the surface of the earth has ever felt something as deeply, as world shattering as this

You’re finally kissing Simon

Simon is finally kissing you

Pulling back for air, you don’t dare go any farther than where you can lean your forehead against his, each of you panting, with grins stretching across your kiss-swollen lips

“Take that as a yes.”

“Oh my gosh,” You laugh along with him, your shared breaths warming the others reddening faces. “Just wait until we tell everyone!”

Simon isn’t sure how to break it to you, that you might just in fact be the last person to find out about this

If you’ve made it this far into the series, I wanted to say thank you so so so much for reading and thank you for your patience between uploads!!!

This will not be the last part to Wife at First Sight- I’m hoping to make one last NSFW part to wrap it all up, but I wanted it to be separate from this upload in case anyone wasn’t wanting to read the 18+

- M 🫶🏻

[vampirekilmerfic]

@the-californicationist I mean, they're not incorrect... 😉

girlies who love ghost will be like “and then he puts his cock in your cunt and it feels good” and price girlies will be like “the cataclysmic avalanche of primal lust which hath consumed you both, flesh rendered asunder, as he bares his teeth and the man burns away to reveal a beast, your desire aching like saccharine sweets to sensitive teeth, and the evidence of it oozes from you like ichor, pearlescent and impure” and I love that for both of us

[lvrsfilm]

contrary to popular belief, Simon Riley does not do casual.

Nothing about him is casual. Nothing about his dedication to his work and his team, the bullets he would disperse and receive for them. Nothing about his routine, the way he shines his boots or folds his uniforms every week like clockwork. He is a cut and dry man, or at least he tries to be.

You, on the other hand, are the opposite of him in so many ways that at a glance people would assume you're the kind of person he hates. (He wishes that was the case, it'd make his life simpler). You bounce around base like a lit firecracker, your fuse sizzling quietly even during missions, never burning out. You never seem to tire, even after the particularly hard ones that leave him mute and holed up in his quarters for hours every day after.

You are casual. Coming to his room whenever you feel like it, knocking in a way that lets him know it's you and no one else. Bringing him tea, or bourbon, the occasional meal if you can convince him. He doesn't see how you can think it's casual. Slipping off your boots, leaving them half laced at his door.

Slipping into his bed. Laying next to him in silence, just so he isn't alone. Bandaging any cuts that aren't severe enough to warrant him going to medical. The soft skin of your hands making practiced movements over his scarred skin that only you've seen. He is not a casual man. And you don't seem to have figured that out yet.

No other man on base interested in you would even entertain the thought of pursuing you, for fear of Simon somehow hearing their thoughts and stringing them up by their necks to show the others what happens if they touch what's his. Everyone else can see the way he looks at you, the way he lets you in.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You don't ask why he lets you in, and he doesn't ask why you keep coming back.

He doesn’t know how to tell you that you’re the first person to make him feel human in a long time. That every soft knock on his door chips away at the walls he’s built, cement crumbling under your touch, a feeling akin to warm liquid gold seeping through the cracks, running over his scar tissue. Like he's a victim of Midas. Exposing him to something he thought he’d buried years ago. You remind him what it’s like to be vulnerable, to crave something more than routine and mission reports.

And it terrifies him.

Because Simon Riley does not do messy, either.

But you? You’re a storm. Chaotic and unpredictable, rushing into his life like you’ve always belonged there. He doesn’t know what to do with you, how to keep you at arm’s length without losing the warmth you bring into his otherwise cold existence. So he lets you in, over and over, even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

Tonight is no different.

The knock comes—a rhythm so familiar now that it’s practically a lullaby. He already knows it’s you before he opens the door. You’re standing there, as casual as ever in civvies, with that cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten in ways he refuses to name.

“Thought you could use some company,” you say, holding up a thermos of tea like a peace offering.

He steps aside, wordlessly, because what else is he supposed to do? Tell you to leave? Pretend he doesn’t want you here? He’s not that good a liar, not around you.

You slip past him, kicking off your boots, leaving them next to the doorway as always, and make yourself at home like you belong here. Like you belong with him. And maybe you do.

He watches as you set the thermos on his desk and plop onto his bed, laying on your back and stretching like a cat, looking at him expectantly. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. An invitation. A promise.

He lays down, careful to leave just enough space between you to keep the illusion of distance. But then you lean into him, shoulder brushing his arm, and the illusion shatters. His resolve crumbles.

“You came straight here when we got back,” you say softly, tilting your head to look at him. “skipped dinner, I saved a plate for you from the mess.”

It’s such a simple statement, but it cuts through him like a blade.

He turns his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours. He looks at you like you're a puzzle he can't solve. Like he needs to figure put your angle, figure out why you're treating him so softly. For a second, the air between you feels impossibly fragile, as if even breathing too hard might shatter it.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice low, almost gruff, like the admission costs him something.

You tilt your head at him, your lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. “Do what?”

He exhales sharply, as though frustrated, though it’s unclear if it’s with you or himself. “This… whatever it is you’re doing. Looking out for me. Bringing me tea. Sitting here. I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know,” you reply simply, your tone disarming in its honesty. “I do it because I want to.”

The words hang in the air between you, unassuming yet weighty, like they’re daring him to refute them. He doesn’t, because he can’t. You've made up your mind. There’s a stubbornness in your voice that he knows too well—one that he’s realized he has no defense against.

“You shouldn’t,” he mutters after a moment, turning his gaze toward the ceiling. “It’s a waste.”

Your smile falters, just slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. “You’re not a waste.”

He flinches at that, so subtly you might have missed it if you weren’t so attuned to him. His fingers twitch on the mattress, his eyebrows furrowing beneath the mask. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t argue, but his silence says enough. You press your lips together, chewing the bottom corner slightly as you debate whether to push further. You decide to anyway, because that’s what you do.

You grin, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and he knows you’re about to say something cheeky. But instead, you surprise him again by reaching over to touch his hand—just a fleeting brush of your fingers, so brief he almost convinces himself it didn’t happen.

He closes his eyes, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t pull away. That’s something, you think.

You turn onto your side, facing him fully now, your fingers brushing against the back of his hand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch this time, so you let your touch linger—gentle, steady, unassuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you add quietly, almost as if it’s a promise.

When he finally opens his eyes again, there’s something raw and unguarded in his gaze, something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t say anything—doesn’t thank you, doesn’t argue—but the way his fingers curl ever so slightly against yours feels like an answer.

[sheepispink]

FALLING

COD MASTERLIST

pairings: (lieutenant) simon ghost riley x (sergeant) reader

Summary: after your previous encounter with Ghost, he’s become a little more comfortable around you as have you. However, he hadnt realised just how much his thoughts had extended over to you until you almost get hurt on a mission you’re both on.

technically related fic but dont have to read first, here.

————————————————————————

Ghost is supposed to be on watch but he cant help but let his gaze drift over to where you lay on the floor in the sleeping bag, right beside Soap and all your gear. Ever since your interaction not too long ago, he’s had a small little feeling of protectiveness over you. He couldnt stop it from forming every time he witnessed you in a vulnerable state— he knew you could handle yourself exceptionally well and yet he didnt want you to; he should be doing all the work.

After the hornet incident you were on good terms despite how awkward you acted the days following. It was unbelievable he had reduced this strong sergeant to a flustered mess just by mentioning the date it had occurred. Infact you began to come to him for a few other things aswell, beginning to feel more comfortable with him by the day.

Though he had quickly let the stern lieutenant get to the best of him, mixing too far with the protectiveness he feels over you and he fears he’s crumpled up everything that had only just been built.

21:00

Ghost watches the time tick into place on his watch right as you finally enter those safehouse doors which you should’ve been at an hour ago. A stray Private follows behind you, supposed to be a part of a team that was far from the frontlines. Being in the military, nothing is ever completely predictable and as per usual, you were rational with every caution you took in retrieving the soldier from where he trembled behind the rocks. Soap closes the door behind you as you send a small glare towards Ghost, ushering the Private to the corner of the small warehouse where there was a dusty couch. They had injured their leg whilst receiving intercepted orders and running off into the field. Yes, they should’ve listened more carefully and followed their specific training but you’re not about to hold their life over a small mistake like that.

Gaz helps you with this whilst the room falls deathly quiet apart from Soap’s small chatter with Ghost to break the tension. Once you finally have him settled, you walk back over to where the rest stand, Ghost still narrowing his gaze sharply at you. “You ‘ight, lass?” You nod in response to Soap, giving him a small smile as you pull off the helmet on your head, taking a long breath since all you’ve felt for the past four hours is pure adrenaline. “Yeah, you look like you’re in one piece too. When will the Captain be here?” Soap shrugs, flopping down onto one of the old couches positioned in the room before dismantling his gun, a trait he always holds when he grows particularly bored. “Who knows, he’ll radio in soon enough.” You hum in response, about to take a seat as well when Gaz walks over, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“That soldier will be fine but he’ll need to see a medic when we get back.”

“Good, i knew going back—“

Ghost’s sharp voice cuts through the air, cutting you off immediately as he stands before you.

“It was a stupid idea.” He says gruffly, eyes boring into where you stand, even if you refuse to face him right now. “It was the right thing to do.” He scoffs lowly at your words, stepping forward to you as he crosses his arms over his chest, making you finally turn to look up at him. “You could’ve died, for a damn private.”

“He’s not a private, Ghost, he’s a human.”

“So are the enemies, will you save them too? Will you spare their lives?”

“That’s not the same and you know it. It doesn't matter, I knew what I was doing and we’re both fine.”

“You didnt know what the hell you were doing.”

He says lowly as he steps right up to you, anger written in his gaze as his voice turns sharper than usual. “Ghost— isnt this getting a wee bit too far?”

Soap cuts in, sitting up as he watches the pair of you go head to head. “Shove a glove in it, Johnny. Did you see what they did? Fuckin’ up and turned around like no one’s business. Even you didn't know where they went.”

Soap sighs, rubbing his temples with the pads of his fingers at this stupid argument. “Ghost, the man was barely in the other building, it’s not like she went through the jungle to find ‘im. Besides, she contacted us on the comms like minutes after.”

Ghost is about to retaliate when Price enters, causing the scene to fall quiet. “Enough chatter boys, Ghost, Soap, i need you ‘ere now.”

The tension couldn’t even be cut by Soap’s small jests, and Ghost had nonverbally been chosen to take the first watch. However, it was growing closer to the time for the take over, Soap meaning to take his place and Ghost would take the sleeping bag beside you. If this was three months ago, he would’ve just slept elsewhere, however if this was yesterday, he would’ve laid beside you without a second thought, allowing you his sleeping bag which is far bigger than your own.

Now he only gets the luxury in his mind, knowing there’s no way he could consider laying beside you now after he’d spoken out so harshly like that towards you. The rustle of the sleeping bag is heard as Soap rolls his up, tucking it beneath his arm before walking over to Ghost. “Yer turn, mate. Don’t snore all over the lass.” His voice clears up quickly from the grogginess he felt before— a key trait of surviving the military life. Ghost can only nod, his boots loud against the wooden flooring before he purposefully quietens them when he nears your sleeping form. It takes him a moment to roll out his sleeping bag, not that he’d even get underneath the layers. When he finally gets comfortable he just glances over at you, your sleeping face so upclose and yet it’s not even a time he feels as if he deserves such a sight. The air is quiet, one that he usually finds deadly since nothing good ever comes out of silence. You hand rests a tad out of your sleeping bag, fingers wrapped around the edge as you lay there soundly and he cant stop himself, letting out a tiny sigh as he places his gloved hand gently above yours.

Ghost had always been too perceptive for his own good, so he had noticed straight away when your finger twitched, eyelash flickering quietly. The slight bump of your throat bobbing gave it away.

“I know you’re awake.” His voice cant rid of it’s familiar gruffness, no matter how much he tries to soften his blow on you. You know you cant hide for much longer so you turn, your back facing him to prove your current feelings towards him. “It wasnt like that.”

He lets out a long sigh, sounding more like a huff than anything, before he moves to lay down right behind you, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m not your team— you don't get to control me.”

You murmur out, clearly having been unable to sleep for the past hour or so by how awake you sound. “Yes you are.” He lets out a proper scoff now, his eyebrows knitting together beneath the mask, almost in pure annoyance of your words. “You’re under my command and that means I keep you safe.” He says firmly not allowing any room for complaint, though when you fall quiet and don’t argue he cant help but feel like he worded that all wrong. He’s too rough, too straight and stiff for this— for any sort of soft blow.

“I.. Yelling at you did no good, I know. You just need to understand that what you did was dangerous.”

He says, voice a little quieter yet no less scoff than before. “He needed help, i couldnt just leave him behind.” It was always you and your lack of selfishness, he’d be damned before you ever left someone who could’ve been saved. You’ve always been like this, too good and yet just as bad as the other sergeants here— he has no idea how you still manage to keep that will in your heart. All he knows is that without your will, his would disappear too, so he cant just let you go like that.

“Fine. Turn back when you want to, hell, even go guns blazing.” He says, almost sarcastic with the way he crosses his arms over his chest which puffs out with each remark. “But not without me. Tell me where you are, and i’m coming too.” He pauses, glancing over at you as you lay stiffly. “None of us fights alone.”

You can’t just ignore that, cant just ignore the way he indirectly apologised for his actions and even went as far as to make it better. You had thought he was being cruel, calling you reckless when that is the very opposite of your entire life goal. But now, after those words, you cant help but roll back over to face him once more.

“Really?” Your voice is far lighter than his could ever be and he only nods, still staring up at the rusty ceiling. “Yeah. I trust you to keep us all safe, but that doesn't mean you have to go alone..”

Those three words are enough to quell any resentment you had held in your heart for the past hour, instantly dissipating in mere seconds. It made sense now, he never thought you were stupid and you has risked the team. No, he thought you risked yourself, and he didnt like that. He knew you were capable, he just didnt want to test that boundary with just every chance possible.

“You win.” You grumble, shuffling up to him on the dusty sleeping bags as you lay your head near his chest, just like many nights prior. He raises a brow at your sudden change in demeanour, before just eventually deciding to leave you be. He got what he wanted, he supposes. “I don't know what you’re talking about, Sarge.”

“Night, Ghost.”

“…Night, love.” He murmurs, laying an arm just around your shoulders, the warmth of his body exuding onto yours before he whispers out one last time. “I’ve always got your back.”

[zombiegutfuck]

23:59 | every cell inside of me is buzzing around my body right now

00:00 | i can hear my braincells communicating in my brain

00:00 | i like this

the messages dealer!simonriley got from customer!reader after he sold to them for the first time.

safe to say, he thinks he has a new favourite buyer.

[starboye]

how i imagine team 141 would react to you putting your hand in their pants to warm them up

gaz would get all giddy at using him as a sort of portable heater, closing his thighs tighter on your hands so that you can warm your self up

price would pick up and sit you on his lap so you can fully warm up you know, not just because he wants to feel you hands more rubbing on his warm thigh but just so he can return the favor in warming you fully

soap would be horny in a tenth of a second, the moment he feels your hands slip past his waistband he's getting hard, sliding his bulge against the palm of your hand until you notice his need

simon would act all tuff on the outside but under that mask he's grinning ear to ear and when you try to pull your hands out he closes his thighs to keep you there

(idk if this is shit or good so im just gonna post it)

[evergreenlake]

And Fate was on His Side

Chapter 2

1.5k words

tw: violence, fighting, wounds, and maybe military inaccuracies (let me know if i miss any)

Price x F!Reader, Secret Baby Trope

an: As I said before the first chapter some characters may be ooc. Also, I'm not sure how to write the British dialect, so for now, dialogue will seem a little weird. I will be coming back to edit it when I do figure it out. One last thing, if I forgot to add you to the taglist just leave a comment and let me know. Sorry in advance if I did!

series masterlist

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All she could hear was the heavy breathing coming from her. She looked towards her son as he was repeating something over and over again. She couldn't read his lips well so she had no idea what it was. But the woman did watch him as he started to put pressure on her shoulder, on the very edge of her collarbone.

Watching him lean to the side to talk to his twin, who was beside her, the woman let her head fall back against the counter they were hiding behind. As she looked up at the ceiling, her hearing slowly returned.

" We gotta get outta here Danny, we don't know how long we will be stuck here!" Mia had whispered yelled at her brother. Danny sighs and looks at her slightly. " There isn't anywhere else to go Mia, plus Mom is already hurt. We gotta stay here til help comes, just have to slow down the bleeding." Danny furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at his mother, and then he looks at Mia. " Try to keep her awake and aware.. just in case we get a chance to leave." Mia nodded and she sat up and started rambling to her mother about something that happened at school that day. The twins shared a look, determined to keep their mother safe.

Stepping out of the truck, the men started to march towards the mall. The one with the bucket hat could hear Laswell talking in his ear. " It looks like they are targeting a few stores on the left side of the mall. You all need to head that way, we will have some of the others head towards the right side to help people evacuate." Price looks back at the three men behind him and he nods. " You heard the woman, let's get in and take these arseholes out."

The three men just nodded as they were all focused on getting the people stuck on the left side of the mall out to safety. They swiftly made their way inside, walking with determination. Seeming a little relaxed they kept an eye out while surveying the mall before heading to the left side of the mall. As the men got closer they all lifted their guns getting ready. As they got closer to the store with the family of three inside, they could see a group of five men outside of it.

Before they got too close they all hid behind some kiosk. Price and Gaz were in the one closest to the terrorist, while the other two were behind the one behind them. Price looks back at his men, he nods his head slightly before he leans around the kiosk. He takes a deep breath as he lines up his shot. Then…..BOOM… The team of men started to shoot at the small group in front of the store. Three of them were hit as the other two dived to hide behind a large planter across from the kiosk.

From inside the shop, both of the teams heard screams, they came from the people in the back. But it also came from Mia behind the counter. Daniel looks towards his mother and sister worried. He slowly stood up a little to see what was happening outside of the shop. However, all he could see was the 141 in a gunfight with two of the guys who attacked them.

The boy quickly sat back down as he looked towards his mother and sister. "There are people outside, they are fighting the guys who were camping the store." Y/n turns her head to look at Daniel. " Stay down til we don't hear any more guns, it is still not safe enough." She reached over and grabbed onto his arm as Mia kept her hands against her mother's wound. She watches her a little worriedly before glancing at Daniel. He looked between the two females before he slowly nodded.

"Don't worry Mom, I'll stay down here with you and Mia." He gave her a small smile before he sat a little closer to her. Y/n started to smile a little more as she leaned over and let her head rest on him. The twins glance towards each other a little worried but they sit a little closer to their mother. Neither of them mentioned the blood that was slowly seeping through the shoulder of her sweater.

Outside of the store, the gunfight was still going on, though there was only one terrorist left. Simon ends up shooting the man between the eyes. Price lifts his head and slowly scans the area to make sure there aren't any others hiding. Once he gives his men a signal all four of them are standing up and making their way into the store.

All four men became alert tho as Daniel quickly stood up from behind the counter and looked at them wide-eyed. " Y'all are good guys, right? Cause my mom needs help, she was shot." As Simon and Soap got a good look at the boy they had side eyed each other, both of them having the same thought. That boy looks like a young Price. The two men in front of them tho don't notice as they hurry behind the counter.

Gaz quickly kneeled beside the woman as she watched him nervously. Mia slowly backed away while watching the strange man assess her mother a little. Behind the teenage girl tho, Price was frozen. This was the woman of his dreams, the one he thought had gotten away. Tho she looked a little older, but to him, she was still beautiful. Simon called his name as Soap called Laswell, hurriedly saying that they needed a medic, and it snapped Price out of it.

The man in the bucket hat had glanced toward his teammate before he was quickly kneeling before the woman. He just watched Gaz question her before he started to put pressure on her shoulder. She looked like she was kind of out of it, but as she slowly turned towards Price her breath had caught in her throat. He gave her a small smile as she grabbed onto his arm. The group standing around them looked a little confused, especially when she started tearing up.

Shouting could be heard outside of the shop getting closer, Soap had left the group to lead them inside the shop. Back with the group Mia was watching her mother and this strange man closely. Price slowly pushes some of her hair out of her face. "Didn' think we would be seeing each other again like this." He let out a small laugh as he was trying to ease some tension as the woman cleared her throat a little. " I didn't think I would see you again, especially in the States.." She suddenly took in a deep breath as the medics rounded the counter.

The group stepped back as they started to check over the woman. The twins were holding each other as they watched them with their mom closely. Price was doing the same thing as Gaz stepped back to the teens, he cleared his throat a little. " Is this your Mom?" The twins quickly nodded, and he nodded back before he stepped up to a medic who was stepping to the side. " I hope the lot of you has enough room for her twins because I don't think they'll let their mother leave."

The medic nodded a little as she looked back at the twins. "Don't worry there will be enough room, there's multiple vehicles here." She turns away as the rest of her group lifts y/n onto the gurney. They made sure everything was ready before glancing back at the twins. " Hope you all are ready, let's go!" As the group started to make their way out of the shop. Price got a good look at the twins, his brow furrowed as he looked at Daniel. He thought he looked very familiar but couldn't figure out why.

Shaking that from his thoughts he turns back to his team. "You lot stay here I'll walk them out." He grabbed his gun and was jogging after the group that just left. The three men that were left there all looked at each other and nodded after watching all those interactions. They all say simultaneously "Those are his kids"

Price walked kind of close to the side of the gurney, though he was walking behind the twins. Mia was currently holding her mother's hand and telling her what she wanted to do when they got home, the teen was told to help keep her mother awake. As they got closer to the ambulance tho, y/n had looked over at Price. Before the medics could put her in the back of the vehicle, she had reached out and grabbed onto Price's arm. She took a deep breath as she looked up at him teary-eyed.

"Their yours.."

Then as the woman let go and was put into the vehicle, Price stood there frozen. The man watches the ambulance drive away, it clicks as he grabs his hat.

"Fuck!"

Taglist:

@miss-vanta-likes-to-write

@galactict3a

@fruitymoonbeams-blog

@spongelistener

@wizzdot

@beebeechaos

@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would LOVE to hear more of your thoughts on Nikolai with a Daddy kink because I'm stupidly weak for big scary Russian dudes and you do the words well

Nikolai is only big and scary when he needs to be. (And I do do the words well, don't I?)

mdni (gn!reader)

Loves a good power dynamic, especially a consensual one. It's simple and to the point. He loves it when his partner is completely submissive, but a little bad behavior doesn't hurt either.

Not entirely into the full roleplay aspect, but does enjoy hearing you call him "daddy" as much as he enjoys calling you his "baby" or "little girl/boy." Pet names are a must for him. And just imagine him calling you a pet name with that accent...*swoon*

Obey him, and he'll reward you (sexually and financially). Disobey, and get a punishment (or two)

An absolute soft dom. He prefers to praise over degrading you. As much as he wants to be dominant, he also wants you to feel protected and safe with him. Also, he's Russian. He firmly believes it is his responsibility to look after you in all ways.

Totally open to using toys and props of all kinds.

Very verbal in and out of the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he's telling you how good you are while giving him head and how pretty his cum looks dripping out of you, to complimenting your choice in outfit. The man has many talents.

A big ole' tease. He loves building the anticipation of sex, especially threatening to withdraw sex when you're being naughty. It pushes the boundaries of control, and you both get off on it.

Will completely take care of you financially. Want new clothes? A wax? Hair done? Whatever. He's covering it. No problem.

As much as he pays your bills and buys you things, he also cares about your well-being.

Aftercare is perfect. Every. Time. No notes.

main masterlist

[ryuzakemo128]

How Did You Find Me?

Pairing: Duke!Poly!141 x female reader/ you cw: drug use, protestation, smut, sexual tension, your ex shows up, hinting at possible opium repeat use. Words: 627 Masterlist Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics Summary: How did they find you there?

John interrupted your time with your ex, he noticed you were blindfolded and your ex’s cock was about to slide into your wet, sopping warmth when John decided to walk into your bedroom. You didn’t think he’d find out so quickly. You were mistaken when you thought you could hide this from him. 

What were you doing with your pathetic excuse of an ex? You should have gone to them instead if you were this desperate. 

What are you doing getting all hot and bothered, squirming around for a guy who would pretend your relationship wasn’t real to satisfy his mother’s concern? 

Eyes burning with a fury you could feel despite the pastel pink silk blindfold covering your eyes. You picked it out, thinking it would be a fun time to spend separating yourself from the four dukes whomst thought were losing a lover a month ago. 

You never thought they’d find you this fast. As you were always careful about who was looking at you, who saw what part of you and where. How did they know to find you in some dingy little brothel on the coast of Somalia? 

The thought of you getting yourself caught in such a compromising position. Both terrified you and aroused you at the same time. 

But the voice cutting through the fog is unmistakable. High from the opium you took to take the edge off. Thinking, ‘They’re not going to know. They won’t find me down here’ and ‘I’ve done a little prostitution work for the guy. Who says I can’t do it again?’.

It wasn’t until you were carried off the bed by someone else completely, it wasn’t until the blindfold is ripped from your face that you see someone other than John. Simon’s glare through the bright sunlight, sun rays spilling through from outside peering through the windows. The sudden bright light making you squint your eyes. 

Was your ship that recognisable in the dark, gloomy skies? What urged them to find you like this? Who told them to look for you? Why did they look for you?

The low groan from the depths of your throat as the room spiral, just enough to make you sick if you opened your eyes again. The nausea building inside your stomach. The combination of gin and opium. 

A dreadful idea on your part. One could also say it was a godawful one. A careless action to undertake.

“Who do you think you are? Recklessly endangering yourself in a…..place like this?” Simon hissed into your ear.

You tried opening up your eyes again, “I can explain everything.” 

The four dukes weren’t having any of it. They spotted you after months of trying to find you again. “I’d rather not hear your excuses right now.” John wiped the opium from your nose, his anger palpable, clearly appalled with the state they found you in. 

Your creamy nectar all over the centre of your thighs like a begotten, exiled son, a symbol of your lost innocence to a man who didn’t even bother to remember your name after he’d had his fill. 

The desperation mixed in with the opium, the sex, the lust and the carnal need to be taken like you were some kind of thrill seeker. Seeking out new tastes only to forget them as soon as you have taken the first bite. 

It wasn’t the first time you tried opium. As you so drunkenly state on the way to your lovely Defiant. Leaving your ex behind. Right inside the brothel’s room, heart pounding inside his chest. Fuming with rage at their interference. 

By the time you were awake again or conscious again, you were inside your bedroom heaving, vomiting into your bucket. 

How did they find you there?

[itacats]

Rain of Shadows

FT: Simon x gn!reader

Warnings: Themes of violence and combat (non-graphic), Mentions of hostage situations, Emotional tension and references to trauma, use of code name for reader, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

SUM: In the ruins of a war-torn town, the line between duty and discovery blurs. A fleeting shift in camaraderie hints at the layers hidden beneath even the thickest walls, leaving more questions than answers.

A/N: Sometimes, missions reveal more than just intel—they uncover cracks in the masks we wear. Writing this felt like walking through a storm with glimpses of sunlight breaking through. 🌧️💙

Rain of Shadows Masterlist

Part 4 - Through the Fog and Rain

Weeks had passed since your induction into Task Force 141, the elite unit revered for its unparalleled skill and courage. Each member was a puzzle piece shaped by conflict and survival, fitting together to form a sharp, cohesive whole. Yet one piece remained enigmatic—Simon “Ghost” Riley. His stoic demeanor and half-covered face concealed not only his identity, but the stories etched into his soul. If the rest of the team was fire and steel, Simon was shadow—present, persistent, and unknowable.

Despite this, the team had embraced you. Their camaraderie, forged in the crucible of battle, slowly extended to include you. Even Simon, in his quiet way, seemed to watch you more closely than the others, as if searching for something buried deep beneath your own surface.

Today, the masks of camaraderie and distance would be set aside, replaced by the grim clarity of a mission. Your objective was straightforward: retrieve intel from a town reduced to rubble by war.

The town sprawled before you like a broken memory, its shattered buildings and charred remains whispering tales of devastation. Streets, stained with the residue of conflict, yawned ahead in eerie silence. As you moved through the ruins with Task Force 141, you felt the weight of the destruction pressing down like a physical force.

“Stick close, and watch your corners,” Captain Price’s voice cut through the somber haze. His words were met with nods, and you tighten your grip on your weapon, trusting in the rhythm of the team.

Soap and Gaz kept up a stream of light-hearted banter behind you, their voices an attempt to inject levity into the oppressive atmosphere. But you and Ghost remained silent, the weight of unspoken tension thick between you.

The team’s advance was methodical, clearing each building with precision. When you reached the suspected hideout, Price’s hand signal brought everyone to a halt. The plan unfolded quickly: Soap and Gaz would breach the hideout while you and Ghost scouted the surrounding streets.

“Rain and I’ll clear the perimeter,” Simon said, his voice low but firm. His eyes met yours briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

The two of you moved in tandem, scanning the ruins for signs of stragglers. Your training meshed seamlessly with his, the unspoken communication between you a testament to the hours spent sparring and drilling as a team. The sound of your boots crunching over debris was the only noise as you approached a crumbling building. Its door hung off its hinges, a jagged invitation into the unknown.

Pushing the door aside, you entered, the interior dim and foreboding. Movement flickered at the edges of your vision, and instinct took over. In the span of seconds, the stillness shattered into chaos.

The fight was swift and brutal. Adrenaline surged as you and Simon worked together, a seamless blend of calculated strikes and decisive movements. His presence was a steady anchor in the chaos, each of his actions complementing yours. The last enemy fell, subdued by Simon’s deft maneuvering, and you called into your comms.

“Gaz, we’ve got them.”

The reply came swiftly, but with an edge of urgency. “They’ve got hostages. We’re moving in to secure them.”

“Understood,” you responded, locking eyes with Simon. His expression—what little you could see of it—remained unreadable, but his focus was razor-sharp as he assessed the room for further threats.

The discovery of trembling, uninjured hostages only heightened the stakes. As the team regrouped, a debate arose about interrogating the captured enemies on-site.

“Why not do it here?” Simon suggested, his voice cold and pragmatic.

You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a flicker of defiance. “Because it’s more effective with all our tools back at HQ. And I like having options—don’t you?”

For a moment, his dark eyes held yours. Then, to your surprise, the corners of his mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Fine,” he conceded, his tone tinged with reluctant amusement. “But you’re dealing with the paperwork.”

“Deal,” you shot back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

The return journey was a study in contrasts. The ruins of the town blurred into the background, their grim shadows softened by the warm hues of the setting sun. Yet something had changed in the aftermath of the mission—something intangible.

Simon, ever the fortress, seemed to have let down his guard for a fleeting moment. The quiet camaraderie between you felt different now, more personal. Each glance, each exchanged word carried a weight that hadn’t been there before.

As the vehicle rumbled toward HQ, you stole a glance at him. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning the horizon. For a brief second, his gaze met yours, and the world seemed to narrow. In that instant, the barrier between you felt thinner, as though a new understanding had taken root.

The mission had been a success, but it was the fragile shift in your relationship with Simon that lingered in your mind. Beneath the weight of his mask and the shadows of his past, there was something more—something you were determined to uncover.

The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. And as the day gave way to night, you knew this was only the beginning. The journey with TF141 was far from over, and the path ahead promised more than just danger.

It promised discovery—of the world, of your comrades, and perhaps most intriguingly, of the man behind the mask.

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If you would like to be tagged in this story, let me know!

@jessicab1991

@burningarcadething

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[reds-skull]

Bringer of Demise - Chapter 5

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This chapter ended up a little short, but I wanted the cliffhanger to be as horrible as I used to make them in part 1 haha. I like how this one turned out, had to rewrite a large chunk of it, but it was the right decision I think

It's called "Walking Corpse"

Soap runs through the tunnels, sliding around a corner he almost misses. A few soldiers have to jump to the side to avoid collision with him, and he shouts an apology behind him.

He rounds another turn when he slams into a large body. Luckily for the both of them, the man is strong enough to keep them on their feet, only letting out a huff as he holds Soap’s biceps.

“Please tell me you’re not running away because you got into trouble, Johnny. Wouldn’t look good in front of our hosts.”

“Ghost!” Soap smiles up at the masked man, “Price told me to get teh the meeting room.”

Ghost lets him go, nodding towards the hallway, “I know, told me to get you, make sure you ‘don’t get lost’.” he keeps a hand on Soap’s back, thumb caressing him.

Soap picks up on his silent question, “Ah’m fine, LT. Got cleared for the field.”

“Hm.” Ghost drops his hand, his eyes crescent-like, “let’s get to debrief before Price has our heads.”

Soap laughs, “aye.”

Their team was dropped off several hundred feet away from their target, which was the building that was observed to house the high ranking fighters of Al-Mudahiyn on the recon mission. Soap lays under a cluster of bushes, wiping his forehead as sweat already drips down it.

It turns out, the militia is on high alert, expecting an attack - but not by the ULF. The Russians also have their eyes on this facility, and they hope it means the revenants Graves kidnapped are still there.

As they wait for their signal, Soap runs the memory of the briefing through his head again.

Farah leans over to drag the blueprints to the center of the table. “Al-Mudahiyn have a few disadvantages, mainly their lack of manpower in this area. Their focus has shifted further north in the last few months, in an attempt to keep their territories.”

“So we just overwhelm them? We got enough revenants for it.” Gaz muses out loud.

Farah hums, “that’s one possible plan of attack. But that is not the optimal one.”

The Commander did say the ULF doesn’t make a habit of attacking Al-Mudahiyn…

“Diversion.” Price says, cutting off Soap’s thoughts. “The facility spreads over a large area. By the time most fighters will get to one side…”

“The other will be completely exposed.”

The air besides him shifts, and he hears the branches around him crunch. Alex’s voice whispers from his left, “think I’m set to infiltrate.”

Commander Karim takes her eyes away from her scope, “don’t let them see you, Keller.” she looks at Alex’s general direction with a smile.

“Yes, ma’am.” The dirt beneath Alex’s boots shifts, and it’s the only way Soap can tell when he walks away, towards the building they suspect has the CCTV control room. Keller’s role is two-fold; he will keep track of the hostiles’ location once the diversion begins, and signal Soap and Farah when their way in is clear, as well as scour the cameras for possible imprisoned revenants.

He temps down the frustration he felt since the debrief. You’d think he’d be the best candidate for a distraction, along with Ghost, but they have to keep following Novikov’s bleedin’ instructions, because “the higher-ups said so”.

Not for the first time, Soap wonders if the brass are really the ones that should be in charge of decisions like these. He didn’t care much in the past, as it only affected him, but now…

Price said he informed Laswell of their suspicions, and she’s working on investigating potential connections between Novikov and Makarov, but the Captain himself doesn’t think the Doctor is the traitor yet.

Soap may have used some… less than tasteful words to curse him out in his mind. Price explained that he knew Novikov for a while, and the man never showed signs of betrayal.

What he managed to gather from his Captain is that because of Shepherd’s disappearance, a few people moved up the ladder, and in his eyes it’s possible one of them could have switched sides. Didn’t do much to convince Soap, but he supposes he understands Price’s point of view.

Either way, that left Soap here, on the infil team with Commander Karim. Her reasoning to choose him out of all the revenants is his ability to heal from gunshots, which compliments her immunity to bullets nicely.

Ghost absolutely hated the idea, he could tell from his stiff, drawn-back shoulders and clenched jaw, but he said nothing, beside offering himself as the distraction.

While Limbo isn’t quite as loud as explosions, seeing what looks like a black hole approach your base rapidly, garnished with the screams of the damned, would be a cause to raise an alarm. Not to mention Price’s powers, which would probably make it feel even more disturbing.

Watching Limbo open now, the void tearing through the night’s sky like a knife, Soap is reminded that Ghost’s powers are fucking terrifying to most. Especially when it’s likely Al-Mudahiyn’s fighters have never seen anything like this.

The floodlights turn on, the facility waking up, fighters running towards the front gates. Soap’s radio crackles, Alex’s voice coming through.

“Kilo Actual, Bravo 7-1, you’re clear for infil.”

Commander Karim rises to her feet, face set with determination, “copy. On the move.”

This place gives him the creeps. Old, crumbling walls, the rebar foundation exposed every few steps, windowless corridors lined with cells, tiled floor covered in stains Soap is hoping are not dried blood.

He follows Commander Karim, the building desolate. She takes a turn unexpectedly, to a room that wasn’t marked as a point of interest.

Farah stops in the entrance, staring at the single chair, a table with various gruesome tools standing beside it. Everything is covered in dark, brown-red blood.

“Commander?” Soap asks, Farah’s expression conflicted. She takes a sharp breath and walks out.

“There were prisoners here recently.” she says, “they must’ve been moved before we arrived.”

“You think they were torturing the revenants?”

They step out into a courtyard of sorts, surrounded by bleak concrete blocks, “our revenants, Russian soldiers…” Karim trails off.

“Kilo.” Alex calls through comms, “found something.”

Farah stops in her tracks, “talk to me, Alex.”

“Rest of the facility has been cleared out from what I can tell, they’re all freaking out about Limbo, but there’s one place the guards have stayed put in.” he types something on a keyboard, “it was marked as warehouse B on the blueprints, take a left in-”

“I know where it is.” Farah stops him, “we’ll check it, keep looking, Echo.”

“Copy that.”

Soap rushes to follow Karim when she starts walking to the warehouse, Her rifle at the ready, “ye’ve been here before, haven’t you?” he asks.

“I have.” Soap doesn’t think she means she’s been here on a mission, with the way her mouth twists into a snarl. 

As soon as they enter the warehouse, they hear voices and drop to a crouch. The Commander signs for Soap to keep quiet, and they slowly creep closer towards a large door. From this close, he can gather whoever’s on the other side is speaking Arabic.

“I know that voice…” Farah mutters. She waits another moment to verify that there are no other people talking, and with a careful push, opens the door enough for them to peek through.

What lies on the other side is sickening. In a large room, surrounded by unmoving bodies and chained to a wall, is a woman. Around her are scorch-marks, the moaning and grunting confirming that some of the burnt people are still alive to feel the pain.

The woman is the only one uninjured, and Soap grits his teeth. She must be the revenant, that Shepherd and Graves tried to make revenant-killers of. Al-Mudahiyn have taken the mantle on that project, after Graves’ death.

“Sergeant. Calm yourself.” Karim says, pointedly looking at his growing flames. Soap grimaces and forces them down. He wasn’t made for covert operations. “Alex, we got eyes on captives, only one uninjured, possibly revenant. Call for med evac.”

“Copy. Gonna be rough getting them outta there without alerting Al-Mudahiyn-”

“The risk is worth it.” Farah answers tersely.

Alex takes it in stride, “of course, Commander. Wouldn’t think otherwise. Out here.”

Farah gives him a questioning look, her hand pressing on the handle, and Soap nods.

They enter the room, the woman jumping and shuffling back, before she recognizes Karim. “Commander?” she asks, before her eyes turn to stare at Soap, “you…”

“Samara.” Farah leans in to inspect the chains, “we’re going to get you out of here. You’re safe.”

Samara looks away from him, “have you seen Khalid? He escaped with Tariq and Rabia before I-”

Farah sighs, dropping the chains. They’re too strong for her to unlock by force, “they’re safe. I got them staying with us.” she addresses Soap next, “think you can burn through these chains, Sergeant?”

Soap frowns. The chains in question are short, wrapping around Samara’s arms tightly. “I can, but it would hurt her.”

Samara shakes her head, “it won’t.”

Soap opens his mouth to object, but she continues, “you are John MacTavish, aren’t you?”

What? “How do ye-”

“My Reaper was Destruction.”

… No. She can’t be. Soap eyes trail down, at the scorch marks.

They were trying to make more revenants of… Destruction?

A numbness spreads up his arms. Shepherd knew what he was. Would’ve taken his powers for himself, if Ghost wasn’t there to save him.

Graves knew these people, from what Farah and Alex have told them. Fought alongside them. He knew Samara was like him.

Soap could have lived his whole life not meeting another one of his kind, a revenant born only from the worst of the worst, crawling out of what reduces others to dust. Would have preferred it, really. How could he look them in the eye, knowing he was the worst of them?

And yet… He and Samara are not the same anymore, are they?

“Soap.” Farah calls him, “the chains.”

“On it.” He moves, stiff joints forced into motion, and takes hold of the metal links. He doesn’t hesitate to explode them, and after a flash and a loud noise, Samara slumps forward, Farah catching her before she can fall.

All Soap can do is stare at her arms. Uninjured. Immunity to explosions, complete immunity, unlike his.

Soap didn’t know his Reaper could do that. Has it chosen to leave him able to feel pain on purpose?

He can’t feel his arms. He averts his eyes, only for them to land on the rest of the bodies in the room.

Some of them are clearly Russian soldiers, their uniforms different from those of the ULF. Their flesh caved in, burns searing far into their muscles. Some are barely recognizable as human anymore.

This is what attempting to bring someone like him into the world looks like.

“John.” a voice startles him. Farah taps his shoulder, turning him away from the bodies, “Alex is on his way here, he’ll take care of Samara and the rest. We need to move, the guards noticed something’s off.”

Soap gives Samara one last look. She doesn’t look afraid of him. He wishes he could say the same.

“Aye, Commander. Lead the way.”

Soap wonders what it says about him that the prospects of a fight is what helped him snap back to the present. Nothing good, if his short meetings with shrinks over the years have anything to say about it. 

His hands are steady on his rifle, flames small and controlled. Even when he and Farah hear the heavy footsteps of incoming hostiles. Even as they begin to shoot.

They only need to hold on until the medic team manages to clear the warehouse. They’re lucky Ghost, Price and Gaz are still working on diversion, as it seems Al-Mudahiyn isn’t lacking in fighters.

“Take the left side, Sergeant. Don’t let them through.” Farah trains her sights on the right hallway.

Soap copies her, “aye.”

The first fighters come into view, downed before they could process what happened. Soap dares to take another step forward.

He hears Karim’s rifle go off behind him, and opens fire again as another group of hostiles enters the corridor. This one was ready for them, and a few bullets hit his plate and graze his arm. Soap snarls, the pain flashing bright before the wounds begin to heal.

Now this feels right at home. The adrenaline pumping in his veins, lava-hot blood dripping down his arms, hands automatically reloading the rifle in his hands.

Al-Mudahiyn’s fighters have begun to circle them, using the small windows to attempt to break through their defence. Farah jumps in front of him when one almost hits him in the head with the butt of his gun, throwing a knife between his eyes as bullets tear through her shirt.

The hostiles are pushing them back now, Farah and Soap standing practically back-to-back.

Soap has been counting his shots, and in about 30 seconds he will be out of ammo. He grits his teeth and shouts, “got any extra mags, Commander?!”

“Negative! I’m on my last one!”

“Fuck-” his rifle clicks on the next shot, the chamber empty. He heaves a breath, another bullet slicing through his ear, his thigh, burning-

He throws his gun to the side, “yer immune teh explosions too?”

Farah spares a glance at him, “only to the aftermath. As long as you’re staying far, I’ll be fine.”

Soap flexes his hands, “copy.”

The next hostile that has the misfortune to step in front of him gets his head caved in. It sends a sickening feeling to his gut, a distant part of Soap screaming at the sight of a headless body.

That part of him gets farther away as he plows through enemies, his world narrowing to bright flashes and loud sounds, ears ringing, unable to heal fast enough. Nothing else matters, only the next target and the way it drops dead at his feet.

There’s a sick satisfaction in using his powers. Satisfaction in the knowledge there is nothing strong enough to withstand his explosions. Usually, that fact makes him scared. Right now, the part of him that fears isn’t allowed to control him.

Soap takes far too long to notice the smoke filtering through the door at the end of the hallway. In the forefront of his mind is a monster, snarling and wild, uncaring of such details. But the smoke thickens, a stench burning his lungs, and Soap can’t ignore it anymore.

“Commander! Something’s on the other side of the door!” he yells to Farah. When he doesn’t get a response, he looks back.

The Commander is staring at the smoke with horror, bullets dinging off her skin. She jerks into action, covering her mouth and backing away.

“Cover your mouth, Sergeant! It’s toxic!”

Soap steps back as well, burning hands coming up to his mouth and nose.

It does nothing to stop the wave of gas from filtering through, when the door slams open.

His knees collapse under him, lungs spasming with body-shuddering coughs, eyes tearing up. Soap barely stays upright, his arms shaking, as gas-masked hostiles surround them. They part for a single man to walk through.

Behind him, Farah growls, “you…”

He blinks away tears, and realizes the gas is coming from the man. Noxious, it streams from his mouth, his nose, his bright green eyes.

The man steps around him, a surge of gas almost knocking him out. Soap hears him approach Farah, and he manages to turn enough to watch her reaction as he speaks.

“You shouldn’t have come here, sister.”

[readwritealldayallnight]

“Simon.” You mumble against his muscular chest, face squished into the fabric of his shirt.

“Yes, love?”

“Is this attempted murder?”

“No, love.” He grumbles sleepily, his heavy weight only pressing further into where he has you pinned beneath him. “‘M just hugging’ ya…” his sentence ends in a yawn, covering up the sound of your groan in protest.

“Si, this hug feels like attempted murder.” You could attempt to wriggle out from underneath him, but that’s a lost cause and you know it.

Bending your knees, you slide your bare feet up the back of his calves.

“Fuck!” He shouts, finally fully waking up and rolling off you. He doesn’t go far though, landing next to you on the mattress and instantly pulling you into his embrace. “Fuckin’ toes are freezin’. You got any feeling left in those feet o’ yours?”

“None at all, actually. Glad you asked. You can massage them for me.”

“With pleasure. One o’ them happy endin’ massages, aye?”

[lapetitepatisserie]

cod × fem!reader ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The familiar sound of keys in the door alerted you to your husband’s return.

“My love?” he called, looking for you, boots making heavy footsteps as he made his way towards you and your child. His eyes soften once they land on you and your baby girl.

“How’s my princess?” he drawls, voice deep with exhaustion from work.

You look down at the child sitting in your lap, occupied with trying to fit a chubby foot into her mouth. A steady finger reaches underneath your chin, lifting it to meet his warm, intense gaze.

“I’m talking about this one.”

[motomamita]

college!bf!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, risky sex!

college!boyfriend!könig fucking you in his room, not caring that his roommate is there. He wrapped his strong arms around you, making sure you didn't escape anywhere while one of his hands covered your mouth.

"shh, be quiet, honey." He murmurs in your ear with his hoarse voice. "You don't want him to realize what's going on here."

both of your eyes are locked on the other boy in the room, who has his back to you at his desk working on his essay, having no idea what's going on behind him. König had developed a taste for fucking you in places where both of you could be discovered, his bedroom being his favorite place.

könig's thick cock slowly entered and exited your pussy, hitting your most sensitive spot with each thrust and making you moan lightly. Your thighs were wet as were his balls, making a sticky sound every time he entered you. His roommate continued working, totally focused on his laptop despite both of you moaning.

"i'm sweating... Let me cool off." In one movement König removed the blanket that covered you both, leaving you completely exposed.

you tried to cover yourself but he held your wrists with one of his hands while the other grabbed your leg. König increased the speed of his thrusts, fucking you as if you were the only ones in the room. Without a blanket over you, the sounds of your bodies colliding could be heard clearly as well as the moans that escaped your mouth. His cock moved in and out of you at a cruel, totally pleasurable pace that made you completely forget that anyone else was there with you.

it wasn't enough for your orgasm to come, followed by König's who grunted as he filled your insides with his hot semen. When you managed to calm down you looked at the roommate who was now wearing his headphones and playing music at full volume. he had definitely heard you. oops!

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)