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beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago

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Hiiii hshsh

So I got this idea on a car ride late at night after going to an extremely loud pub!! Which gave me this idea:33

Poly!141 plus reader

None of them know how to cook because they're used to having premade meals at the messhall or rations on missions! so when reader comes along (they can be part of the task force or they can be civilian), and they cook for them the lads decide that they're theirs now!! :3

I love this idea anon 😩😩

You didn’t think much of it at first, truly.

Cooking had always been second nature to you- something soothing, something tangible in a life filled with chaos. And in the military, chaos was the only constant.

It didn’t take long to realize something alarming, though: none of your teammates knew how to cook.

Not even the basics.

Soap, bless his heart, thought instant noodles counted as a proper meal. Gaz once tried to scramble eggs and somehow set off the smoke alarm. Ghost? The man could survive in the wild for weeks but willingly lived off protein bars and black coffee when left to his own devices. And Price could grill, sure, but anything beyond that? No chance. And it wasn’t as if a grill was always available.

So, you cooked.

Not because they asked. Not because you had to, or were made to feel like you had to. But because the first time you made something decent- just a simple stew, hearty and warm, after a grueling training session- they all looked at you like you had hung the damn moon itself.

Soap groaned after his first bite, tipping his head back in dramatic bliss. “Marry me.”

Gaz, already going for seconds, nodded solemnly. “Seconded. You can’t just cook like this and expect us to let you go.”

Ghost didn’t say anything outright, but the way he cleaned his bowl and then, after a pause, slid it forward for more? Yeah. That spoke volumes.

Price took his time eating, but you caught the way his gaze softened as he watched you. Like he was making a decision.

You didn’t realize what that decision was until the next morning.

You woke up to find all four of them stationed in the kitchen, waiting. Gaz leaned against the fridge, Soap sat on the counter, Ghost loomed in the doorway, and Price stood at the stove like he had any idea what to do with it.

“What,” you mumbled, still groggy. “Are you all doing?”

Price met your eyes, calm and sure. “Waiting on breakfast. If you do wanna make it, that is.”

And that was that.

You should’ve known. Feeding a group of hungry, half-feral soldiers meant claiming them.

And, apparently, it meant they claimed you too.

The first time you all came back from a mission completely wrecked, it happened without thought.

Everyone was exhausted- cut up, bruised, dragging themselves through debrief with only the promise of a hard-earned shower keeping them upright.

You were just as battered. Just as drained. But the moment you stepped into the barracks and saw the half-hearted collection of protein bars and tasteless ration packs sitting on the counter, something inside you rebelled and cracked.

No. Not tonight.

Your body screamed for rest, but you ignored it, rolling up your sleeves and getting to work. It’ll be worth it, you kept telling yourself, and the promise of an actual meal kept you going.

You weren’t alone for long, thougg.

Kyle trudged into the kitchen first, watching with quiet amazement as you moved. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“I know.” you murmured, but kept going. A warm, fresh meal…

Soap dragged himself in next, blinking at you blearily before rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re an angel, bonnie. A bloody angel.”

Ghost leaned against the doorframe when he came a little later, watching. He didn’t say a word, but when you swayed slightly from exhaustion, he moved- one steady hand pressing against the small of your back, grounding you. He didn’t tell you to stop, or get in your way- just stayed by you, a steady, comforting presence.

Also helped chop the vegetables when you asked.

John didn’t say anything either. But he sat at the table, waiting patiently, eyes tracking every movement like he was memorizing you.

By the time you put the food down- something warm, filling, real- they were too tired to talk, but their gratitude was written in every movement and shone through every appreciative sigh they let out

Soap sighed into his bowl like it was the only thing keeping him alive. “If I die tonight, at least I die happy.”

Gaz nudged your foot under the table, a quiet thank you.

Ghost, ever quiet, simply refilled your plate before his own.

And Price met your eyes across the table, something unreadable yet warm in his expression, before nodding once. “Good work, soldier.”

The second time, it was worse.

The mission had gone sideways, backwards, and right into hell.

It had been long, brutal, pushing all of you to the breaking point. When you finally stepped back onto base, none of you were unscathed- Soap’s knuckles were split, Gaz’s jaw was bruised, Ghost had a gash along his ribs, and Price carried exhaustion like it was part of him.

And you? You were running purely on fumes.

But the moment you made it back to your quarters and saw the way they all moved- silent, weighed down by the kind of tired that settled in your bones- you knew.

Without thinking, you made your way to the kitchen.

Soap’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, followed you. “You don’t have to, lass. You gotta rest-“

“I know.” You croaked out. And you still did it anyways.

The stew took time. Slow, steady, the scent filling the air like something solid. Something safe. It gave you enough time to lay your head down just a little, eyes slipping shut just long enough for you not to pass out.

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t tell you to sit down, to rest, to stop.

Instead, they hovered- Soap setting the table, Gaz nudging a chair toward you every time you leaned too hard against the counter, Ghost watching you in that way he did when words weren’t enough.

Price stood beside you near the stove, his hand brushing your shoulder in quiet appreciation.

And when you finally sat down, they made sure you ate first; Soap nudged the biggest portion toward you. Gaz made sure your glass was full. Price made sure you didn’t lift a finger once the meal was done.

Ghost was the last to move, reaching over to take your wrist, squeezing once. A quiet thank you in the way only he could say it.

That night, none of them let you leave, either.Soap pulled you down onto the couch between him and Ghost, resting his head against yours with a tired sigh, and Simon pulled your legs to rest on top of his thighs.

Gaz, already half-asleep with his back rest against the couch, muttered.” You’re stuck with us now, you know.”

And Price draped a blanket over your shoulders, the weight of it solid and grounding. He patted your head, then his hand slid down to squeeze your shoulder while your eyes slipped shut, drifting off into a much-needed sleep. “That’s how it works.”

#noona.asks #noona.writes #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 #cod imagines #poly!141 x you #poly 141 x you #poly!141 x reader #poly!141 #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #i love you anon this idea is perfect

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luvrrszn · 2 months ago

Text

dog tags and love letters

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x FEM!READER

summary how he meets the sweet girl he now calls home

warnings fluff heh...inaccuracies

a/n self-indulgent and probably inaccurate. i got a new laptop heh. it's sky blue. it's beautiful. heh.

masterlist

ghost is the kind of guy who doesn't dwell on the past or plan too far in the future. because both are uncertain, and both can be gone in an instant. he moves through life with a soldier's mindset—one step at a time, one day at a time, one mission at a time.

survival isn't about looking too far ahead, it's about making it through the next op, the next fight, the next breath.

he’s disciplined, calculated, but there’s an underlying detachment to it all. he knows better than to get too comfortable, to expect stability. attachments make things complicated. plans make things dangerous. so he takes things as they come, keeps moving forward, and doesn’t stop to think about what’s next until it’s right in front of him.

but everything as he knows it changes when he meets you.

—

you're like a breath of fresh air.

the first time ghost sees you is from across the bar at a pub. you're nursing a bottle of beer, deep in thought, and you don't even notice the giant staring at you through his skull balaclava.

johnny gets to you first, striking up a conversation with ease while ghost watches from afar. through his heavy scottish accent, he points out everyone in the bar. price, gaz, johnny, ghost?

johnny drags you over to ghost as you giggle, "what kind of name is that? ghost?"

the withering glare ghost sends in your direction is enough to send others skittering away. but you don't back down. you glare back at him, remarking to johnny, "careful, johnny. people are going to think your scary guard dog bites."

johnny barks out a laugh, clapping ghost on the shoulder like he’s just been let in on the best joke of the night. "oh, i like her."

ghost, on the other hand, does not react. he simply shifts his weight, regarding you with an unreadable expression. his eyes flicker over you—assessing, calculating, deciding if you're worth his time.

"depends," he finally rumbles, voice low and gravelly. "y'planning on sticking y'hand in my mouth?"

johnny wheezes, smacking the table, while you tilt your head, amused. "so you do bite?"

ghost doesn't answer, but something about the way his gaze lingers tells you he’s not used to people who don’t flinch away from him. who don’t try to appease him or impress him.

you take a sip of your beer, unfazed. "good to know."

johnny grins, watching the silent exchange like he's just won a bet. "bloody hell, i think you've just become his new favourite."

you roll your eyes. "i'm honoured."

ghost shakes his head slightly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders loosen just a fraction. and when you get up to grab another beer, you swear you feel his eyes on you the entire way to the bar.

—

it happens slowly. subtly. almost without either of you realizing.

he starts asking you to call him simon instead. "t'you, 'm always simon, darling. never ghost."

at first, it's just coincidence. running into each other at the pub when 141 is back from a mission. simon doesn’t talk much, but he listens. he watches. you learn that under all that intimidation, there’s a man who notices the smallest details—how you like your drinks, when you get quiet because you're thinking too hard, the way your fingers drum against the bar when you're restless.

then, it’s convenience. he starts walking you home when the night runs late, always a few steps behind, silent but steady. one time, you try to wave him off, saying you're fine on your own. he just stares at you and says, "i know. humor me." you let him.

it turns into habit. him waiting for you after work. him pulling out a chair for you at the bar. him handing you his jacket when it's cold because, "you're shivering, stop bein' stubborn."

you complain, but you wear it anyway.

and then it’s something more.

you find yourself on edge every time he's away on a mission. you worry about him constantly. you check your phone every night, hoping that he's texted you that he's back.

—

one day, you're sitting on a bar stool at your kitchen island, back facing the main door. you're typing away on your computer, finishing up an email for work when you feel the air in the room shift.

like someone is there.

and you're terrified.

but when you turn around, that's when you see him.

the man who's basically a giant hunk of muscle.

simon.

he had let himself in using the spare key you'd given him ages ago. he didn't even bother going home first.

he came straight to you.

he drops his bag on the floor and doesn't even have time to shed his tactical gear before you're barreling into him at full speed. you leap into his arms, your legs wrapped around his body.

your arms are wrapped around his neck as you bury your face in his shoulder. he has one arm wrapped around your back and uses the other to pull off his balaclava.

"missed you, si," you mumble into his shoulder, "was so worried about you."

"nothin' to worry bout, sweet girl. am home now, aren't i?" he chuckles, warm breath blowing against your ear.

his usage of the word "home" doesn't go unnoticed by you.

that's when you realise—falling for him, it's a slow, quiet thing. but it's inevitable.

simon doesn't say much, but he never has to. the way he holds you—like he's afraid to let go—says enough. his fingers dig into your back, his breath is a little shaky when he exhales, and you know. you just know.

but neither of you say anything about it. not yet.

instead, he lets you fuss over him. you make him sit while you heat up leftovers, filling his plate like he hasn’t eaten in days. he doesn’t argue. just watches you with those sharp eyes, tracking every movement.

later, when you’re both on the couch—him in his usual spot, you curled up beside him, your head against his chest—you hear it.

his heartbeat. steady. grounding.

suddenly, he pauses the movie and lifts you onto his lap such that you're facing me.

"pet, i have somethin' to say. hear me out, okay?" he sounds unsure. and you're nervous. simon is never unsure.

"yeah, yeah. what's up si? you're kinda scaring me."

"no, love, it's nothing bad, i promise." he lets out a nervous chuckle and takes your small hand into those bear paws of his.

"somewhere along the way," he starts, voice hoarse, "i realised i stopped going through the motions of each mission. i stopped doing what i just had to do. i wasn't thinking about the missions anymore, not like i used to. i was just trying to finish as quickly as i could so i could get home to you."

your heart stutters in your chest, like you're unsure if you've heard him right. you let out a shaky breath, "si..."

and you see his face fall. no, no, no. he must've thought you were rejecting him. and after he'd been vulnerable with you, something he never was around anyone at all.

his expression hardens, as he begins, "forget it, it was stupid—"

you cut him off by pressing your lips onto his.

at first, the kiss is gentle. like simon is terrified you'll crumble if he even moves an inch. but then it grows hungry. you've both been waiting for this moment for so long.

it's hungry, messy, a mess of tongue and teeth.

when you finally break apart, panting, you both stay there for a moment, forehead to forehead, trying to catch your breath. the world feels like it’s stopped, and it’s just you two, finally in sync after everything that’s been unsaid. his hands are on your back, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll slip away.

you lean back just slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his, still trying to make sense of the overwhelming rush of emotions.

"you’re not stupid, si," you say softly, your voice shaky but firm. "i’ve been waiting for this too. for you. i just... didn’t know how to say it."

his thumb traces your cheek, wiping away the stray tear you hadn’t even noticed had fallen. "you’ve always had this way of... making me feel like maybe i could be more than jus' a soldier, y'know?"

you smile, a tear escaping despite yourself. "you already are, simon. to me, you’re everything."

he smiles back, but it’s different now. it’s not guarded or hardened. it’s raw, and real. and it’s all for you.

"guess ’m not going anywhere either," he murmurs, pulling you back into him, pressing his lips to your temple.

and this time, you know—without a doubt—that no matter the missions, no matter the distance, this is where you both belong.

#📓—lexwrites #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley fluff

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fandom-random-help · 2 months ago

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Military!Reader

Let's be real, Simon didn't know you were in the military. You two met at a pub and hit it off pretty well. Granted, you were sick of him staring at you and decided to strike up a conversation. From there, it went well. He took you home after closing time and you offered to let him stay the night. He did, but you two didn't hook up. Instead, you two cuddled in the dark and told each other about yourselves. Job occupation never came up so you kept it at that. You were actually worried to tell Simon what you did for a living. You were afraid he would see your job as an excuse to ignore and cheat on him due to past experiences with other guys who were way too unstable and insecure.

Cut to seven months later, you're on base when you get called to your Captain's office. Your heart dropped because you didn't do anything to be called into his office until he slid you a manilla folder and announced you were being transferred to a different task force. You were shocked, but accepted the transfer. You were excited to go home to your boyfriend and tell him about your day. You still never told Simon you were in the military, let alone a Sergeant. You lied and told him you had an office job that requires a lot of business trips. Simon didn't care as he told you he had to leave home for long periods of time too.

It was on your two month anniversary that he confessed he was a part of the military. You were fine with that and you had a suspicion due to all the scars you've seen. Over the course of the next few months you two made it work. Sometimes your deployments lined up to where you two would both be gone at around the same time so you weren't stuck at home missing your boyfriend since you had work to do.

The next day you got on base you hid your face with a mask. No way did you want to run into Simon. You walked into briefing room and there stood Captain John Price. Introductions were made as you listened to your new Captain talk about everybody on the team. He told you about Gaz and his interrogation skills, Soap and how he's a wildcard of a demolitions expert, and that left Ghost. Ghost was a mystery, Price didn't say much about him other that he was quiet and expected a lot out of fresh meat on the team. That didn't bother you though, you were used to hardass soldiers always trying to make recruits break under pressure.

When the rest of the task force poured into the room, you froze. Ghost was intimidating yes, but there was an odd familiarity about him. You couldn't pinpoint what it was until he looked at you. You were so glad your mask covered half of your face as you could feel your cheeks growing warm. Those deep brown eyes...you knew of only one person who had those kind of eyes...Simon. "Didn't know we had a lady joining us Cap'n." Ghost says to Price. You've heard Simon talk before, but Ghost? Ghost sounded more rough and downright serious. Can't deny it made your blush deepen.

The briefing went on for what felt like forever until Price told everyone that they were scheduled to leave tomorrow morning. You got up and felt a hand on your shoulder. You whipped around to see Soap, his cheeky smile and all. "Say lass, what's with the mask?" He asked. That's when Gaz joined in, "Yeah, are you another Ghost we gotta deal with?" You straight up laughed so hard the guys looked concerned. "Like I'm that heartless." You reply. Both Gaz and Soap let out almost a sigh of relief and laugh with you. "Did you guys think I was going to be that cutthroat? Geez, I should've brought my good knife with me to show off." You kept talking to the two Sergeants and became instant friends. What you didn't know is that Ghost heard what you said, and he wasn't too happy about spending however long it was with you.

You all piled into the plane to fly out that morning. You called Simon before getting on the plane to tell him you were going on a "business trip". Ghost was still at his bunk when his phone rings. He picks it up and sees his pretty bird on the caller ID and answers so quick he almost hangs up.

"Hi lovie, are you okay?" He asks. You chuckle at how he was always so worried about you.

"Yes love, I'm fine. Just letting you know I'm about to board a plane. Got a meeting to attend in the states." You lie.

"Al'ight, safe travels baby. I'm gonna need all the luck I can get for this mission. New Sergeant is gonna piss me off." He explains.

But, you're the new Sergeant. How'd you piss him off?

"I'm sorry baby, what did he do? Also, 'going to'? He hasn't done anything yet has he?" You ask, curious to what he'll say.

"Not a 'he', love. It's a 'she'. She called me heartless." From there, he goes on and on about how she hides behind a mask like he does and how she already hit it off with Kyle and Johnny. You knew Simon was insecure, but that bad? This man has done lost his mind.

"I'm sorry love. I'm sure things will get better. I love you." You say.

"Love you too birdy. I'll see you in about a month." He says as you both hang up.

You walk onto the plane where the other guys are waiting, except Ghost. "Where is that fucker?" Soap groans. "I'm sure he'll be here soon." You say, sounding hopeful. Sure enough, Ghost practically runs onto the plane and finds a seat...right next to you. "Almost late LT." Gaz laughs. Price shakes his head and lets the pilot know they're ready to fly. On the plane, Ghost shuffles in his seat worse than Soap. You reach in your vest and pull out a small stress ball. "Here" is all you say as you gesture for Ghost to take it. He looks at you in confusion before taking the ball from your hand. It calms him down and he makes sure you get it back before you land.

On the ground, you guys make your way to the safe house. Once there, you all take time making sleeping arrangements. You offer to stand watch for tonight, but Ghost told you he'd do it and that you needed rest. You took it as Ghost paying you back for the stress ball so you let him win. Later that evening, Soap hit the ground running with questions for you. "What's your callsign lass? Sure you don't want us calling you 'lass' or 'lady' all month." You laughed and answered. "It's Grasshopper." Gaz looked up from cleaning his gun, intrigued. Soap was armed with more questions. Ghost stayed in the corner, observing. Price smiled a little as he smoked his cigar. "How'd you get that as your callsign?" Gaz asked. Soap looked at him and then nodded his head. "Well when I was stationed on my first op. We were running from enemy soldiers after a tripwire got, well, tripped. They didn't follow us though, they shot at us from a building. We hid in a field to avoid the gunshots. It was quiet, when all of a sudden I seen a grenade land in our area. I jumped over to it, picked it up, and threw it back towards enemy lines. It exploded as soon as it hit the ground in front of the building. Killed a few men that day." You explained. "Okay, but why Grasshopper?" Soap asked. You sighed. "Well, after I threw the grenade back. I was jumping up and down in celebration that My team and I didn't die. In a field. Where there was grass. Hence the name Grasshopper."

The guys looked at you in amazement, except Ghost because you couldn't read his expressions. "Good to know Sergeant." Says Price. "That's amazing! Definitely gotta see your throw in action, huh Grassy?" Said Soap as he elbows your arm. You actually laugh at the new take on your callsign.

Ghost sits quietly in the corner. He now had a name for the thorn in his side for next month or so. It's not that Ghost hates you because of small, petty things. No. He doesn't like the idea of catching feelings for you....again, but he doesn't know that. He missed his quiet, soft-spoken girlfriend, and you were making it difficult for him to even remember her. You were confident, loud when need be, and you stand your ground. Ghost didn't want to interact too much with you. Didn't want to feel like he was betraying his lovely bird back home just by talking to you.

Little does he know, you and his girlfriend are one in the same....and he was about to find out.

Part 2

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

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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hey love can i request brothers bff cho and how he's just down bad for you 🤍🤍🤍

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: omg wait, i fucks with this baddd

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Choso x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - masturbation (m!) - oral (m! receiving) - tit/breast fucking (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (baby, darling, honey, sweetie) - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - implied that reader is big chested - Choso crushing on you hard, lmao - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Choso knew better than to be attracted to you, the sibling of his best friend ever.

Your brother and Choso have been buddies for a while, meeting during his part-time job at a burger joint as servers and finding out they have so much in common. Being older siblings, lovers of rock music, and relating to so much together, the two often hung out after work and became pretty good friends. Just two people vibing out in each others’ company, and there was nothing to make this relationship complicated!

“Hey, Choso, I’ve told you about my sister before, right?”

You greeted him with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Choso!”

Well, that is until you came and absolutely rocked Choso’s world.

You were the younger sibling of two; a college senior comes home biweekly to take care of laundry and then drives back up for your education. By your gorgeous face and alluring figure, Choso was struck by your image from the first time his eyes ever laid on you. You were such a kind spirit, always so sweet to him and others surrounding you — you’d want to hang with the boys whenever you had the chance while you were visiting, which was hellish for the brown-haired man.

You’d laugh along with the jokes, making Choso’s heart skip uncontrollably, and the way you’d lean to him when you’re sleepy watching a movie with them pushed the guy on the verge of shutting down. He could never get tired of how you’d say his name; it came out so dear from your lips as if he could be under your spell at any second. And it didn’t help that you’d walk around the house with shorts on, the lower fringes constantly threatening Choso on whether they’d creep up to see the mere crevice of your ass.

As said before, he knew better than siblings of best friends were off limits. However, you were becoming too much for him. It’s been half a year of seeing you, and there has never been a day or night where you haven’t popped up in his head one way or another, particularly when his mind would think of you in the most…lustful ways.

He throws his head back, reminiscing about you and your outfit from the pub. The way your breasts were tucked in nicely by the window of your bodycon dress, yet the cleavage was too tempting for his eyes not to notice. The dress sculpted your curves dangerously, Choso fighting the urge to put his hand on your hip to feel your clothed skin. And your lipgloss made your lips shine; every time you spoke to him was a test for him not to kiss you right there in front of your brother. It was so cruel how you looked so good for him!

He was spending the night at yours after a night out drinking with you and your brother, using the basement bedroom to sleep. Sleep evades him; however, he uses this space to deal with the erection he’s been dying to indulge in this entire night instead. His teeth pull the bottom of his shirt, dark jeans discarded to the floor, and his hand pumps his shaft that’s freed from his boxer briefs.

He grunts at the memory, teeth grinding while he strokes his long cock. Precum exuding from the urethra slides down to the base and wets his fingers. “Fuuck, Y/n,” your name is said in choked moans, the horny man fisting himself in a faster motion. Brown eyebrows are trenched, and his abdomen begins to flex. Shit, I’m so close, so cl—

“Choso?”

He never in his life froze still in an instant, and his heart goes to a complete stop, too. No way.

“Ca–…May I come in?”

No words are said from either side, so Choso’s heat immediately shifts to icy cold when he hears the door open, and your frame is all he sees. You’re still wearing the beautiful dress, yet your face is molded into an expression of utter anxiousness. Sweat goes down Choso’s forehead, oh fucking shit!

“I came down to see if you were okay and needed anything,” your eyes were downcast to the floor, chewing on your lips during this awkward situation. “But…I heard you say my name and…”

Oh, it was so over for him. All Choso could do was stare at you in dread, entirely shocked that you saw him masturbate at the thought of you! You were fidgeting with your dress, perplexed about how to handle this predicament, too. He was so done for; not only was he thinking of you, the sibling of his best friend, and using said thoughts of you, but now you are aware of how he pictures you in his fucked up head! Yup, he can never walk into this house again. “S–Sorry, Y/n! I’ll just go and—“

“Can I help?”

Again, his body goes rigid mid-stride of getting off the bed after pulling his underwear up. ….What?

“I mean, can I…help you with that?” You meekly walk into the room and close the door behind you. “I am the one who made you like this, so…I’m okay with it if you are…..”

Choso blinks, too alarmed to make any movements. “But, your brother…” You’re quiet for a few seconds before you spook him by taking steps in his direction. He gulps thickly when your figure crawls on the bed, too close for his brain to comprehend. You take his hand with your soft ones and bring his fingers to your lips to kiss, and his breath hitches when you suck and lick his digits. The boner stuffed in his briefs twitches at the sensation of your tongue running against the underside of his middle finger and sucking on it.

You peer at him, “What about him?” That is what you say before lifting your dress to remove your panties. And just when Choso thought his life was about to be thrown in the gutter, you flipped the script on him again.

In his head, Choso knew he shouldn’t be doing this.

“Mmm…Mmahh! Oh, Choso, you taste so good…”

But in his heart, he couldn’t help but give in to this situation.

You were situated between his legs, ripped him off his briefs for you to suck on his glans freely. Your tinge dances around his cockhead to prompt more come to ooze out of his urethra, and your hand slides up and down to stroke his member. Choso whimpers under your touch, and shivers crawl up his spine as you lick from the base to the tip before sucking hard.

“Fuuck, Y/n,” he grips the sheets, barely containing his hips to buck to your lips. “Your mouth, it’s—Hssshh…!”

“Mmm?” You blink before releasing the tip with a sound. “What about my mouth, Choso baby?” Fuck, the nickname made the pink of his ears creep down to his nape. “You feel good?” He nods at your question, and you giggle before sucking one of his balls, resulting in a sharp gasp from the brown-haired man. “I’m so happy you are…”

Hallow cheeks take in his cock, busying your throat with his length that has you humming blissfully. You massage his waist as you bob your face up and down, and shaky breaths leave his lips while his legs jolt with every swish of your tongue.

“—Shhiiit, oh shit, hnnn,” he can’t do it, you were driving him crazy. “Y/n, you’re gonna make me…Mmmm”

You pick up on his cue, withdrawing your lips from him to maneuver and pull down the top of your dress. Caramel eyes widen at the sight of your breast spilling out, forgetting how to breathe when you bring them to wrap around his long dick. You move them around to please him, taking the tip back into your mouth to slurp his leaking essence that trickles down to your chest.

“Mmaahh, go ahead, darling,” you place kisses on the tip, Choso looking at nothing but your mounds swallow him with every stroke. It takes mere seconds for his orgasm to sneak up on him, his jizz coming out to fall and trickle down in between the rifts of your tits. “There you go, let it out for me…” the way you looked at him with half-lidded eyes took his breath away, especially with the spit that connects your gloss-shining lips to his spit-and-come coated shaft.

And when he’s finally inside you? He’s too far gone to even think of being away from you.

“Ohhh, hoooh!! Chosooo, y’u feel soo good!”

Your dress was cast-off entirely, your nude body bouching up and down on Choso, his cock bullying the inside of your cunt. It’s been a solid fifteen minutes shared between the two of you exploring each other’s bodies, and sweaty skin exchanges heat from the constant motions. And come from rounds prior spill from your chasm as you ride on Choso’s dick with a rhythm.

He has his hands on your hips now, using you to keep him steady before he gets too lost in the feeling. Not that it hasn’t happened already; the man moans with every clamp of your walls around him, tightening around him with every graze of your g-spot. You wail for him up top, and your aroused sounds have to be the cutest things he’s ever heard. And the way your tits jump every time you plummet down to the base of him, it’s an image that will haunt him for the rest of his days.

“Tahhh, ughh, Jesus Christ…” He’s too sensitive right now; he just came not too long ago and is now being chased down for another one. “Y/n, sweetie, too fast, slow d—Ahh…!”

You hear him and titter, “Yeah? Want me to slow down, huh…” You bring your hips up excruciatingly slow, listening intently to the shaky sobs from the brunette as you get to the very top. And then you smack yourself down with haste, sharing a yelp at the rushed sensation. You do it again, “Think you’re about to cum again, huh, honey?”

His hands now come to your ass to grope with the flesh, and you twitch around his girth at the hunger. “Yeahhh…”

“You gonna be good and cum for me again, right?” Another snap of your ass crashing down on him.

“Yess, baby,” he throws his head back to the pillows, his head pounding so hard it could kill him. You can feel him pulsating within your slit. “Almost there…Ohh–ooo..!”

You bite your lip, relishing at the sight of him being desperate for release. You lean forward to him, your breasts meshing with his chest as you snake a hand around the back of his head. You place your lips on his, and he doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

The kiss gets hotter when you dial up the speed, tongues swirling and exchanging spit as the friction becomes a lot more pleasurable than before. Choso’s ears ring the deeper you bring him in to kiss, humming on his tongue as you suck on it with harsh rocks on his length from scraping places you couldn’t reach. He’s so fucking addicted to you; his composure long deteriorated the moment he first put his cock inside you.

Choso bucks himself to you in sync, his climax coming in just a few ruts. He howls into you, and you wail along as your hips don’t rest until you’re hit with a crescendo of your own. Contracting your vaginal walls milks him, exerting his load into you again to spill and flow down your sticky frames.

You two heave and pant in each other’s mouth before the kiss is broken, and the string of saliva is evidence of you being one with the other. Although the both of you are dazed, you smile at him before kissing his nose. “Glad I helped you out, huh?” He chuckles weakly as you lay kisses on his chin.

KNOCK!! KNOCK!!

And just like that, the two of you are frozen yet again. Wait…

Too late, the bedroom door busts open with a bang, and in comes your brother!

“Yooo, Choso, my guy—hic,” your brother stumbles inside the room, still a bit loopy and drunk. “Wanna go up and hit a quick blunt with— ah…”

The heat shared between you and the man below you switched to silent torture, awkwardness suffocating the three figures staring at each other. And this is the exact reason why Choso should’ve known better than to mingle around with you…

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mintfullyyours · 4 months ago

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to give a dog a bone

thinking about saving a simon’s life once. Now he’s convinced he belongs to you. it got me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. please lemme know if any of this resonates because I have so many thoughts.

thinking about how your girl's night out ended with one too many sweet drinks bubbling in your system and your best friend going home with a guy who had some sort of accent and a short mohawk. she deserved to have a bit of fun. rain poured heavy as you exited the pub, pulling your hood up, you decide to take the short walk back to your flat.

At the end of the sidewalk, a tall figure loomed beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. A cigarette burned between his fingers, the ember flaring bright against the curtain of rain. You shivered, unsure if it was the biting cold seeping through your drenched clothes or something deeper—something instinctual.

Rain pelted down in relentless sheets, soaking you to the bone. The city around you was eerily silent, the empty streets offering unspoken permission to move forward. But as you lingered just behind him at the crosswalk, the air felt charged, crackling with something unseen.

He took a step forward.

Before you could think, before reason could intervene, you moved. As if possessed by the strength of Athena herself, your fingers curled into his shirt, fisting the fabric tight. With a sharp pull, you wrenched him back, your breath coming fast, your pulse pounding.

Simon wrenched back a step, twisting his body with sharp precision, flipping his grip in an instant. His fingers clamped around your forearm, iron-strong and unyielding. You gasped, wincing at the bite of his hold, but all you could focus on were his cerulean eyes—cold, calculating, hungry. The rest of his face remained hidden behind the black KN95 mask, a barrier that somehow made him even more unreadable. More dangerous.

A car whizzed past, blaring its horn, but the world had already narrowed to just the two of you.

"Ow, fucker!" You yank your arm free and slapped him hard with your other hand. The crack of skin against skin echoed through the air. Your palm stung. His head barely shifted. Instead, his brow lifted, a slow, amused rise. It hadn’t hurt him. Not really. But the effort? Adorable.

You were a feisty little thing—he saw it in your eyes, felt it in the way you shook. He wouldn’t mind molding that fire into something entirely his. Breaking you down, building you back up.

His silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Unease crawled up your spine.

"Okay… I’m done," you muttered, taking a shaky step back. "Last time I ever help someone."

You turned, ready to put this strange moment behind you, but Simon reacted on instinct. His hand snapped out, engulfing your wrist, and with one firm pull, you stumbled into him. His body was solid, unmovable, and you fit against him as if you were always meant to be there. The realization sent a shiver down your spine.

"Done?" His voice was low, amused. Dangerous.

His fingers brushed over your lips, silencing any protest. Your breath hitched.

This wasn’t good.

"Love," he murmured, his eyes burning into yours.

"We’ve only just begun."

other simon writings for your consideration: you're Simon's phone wallpaper, Past Lives w/Ghost, creepy!stepbro Simon, amnesiac!simon part 1, amnesiac!simon part 2-ish, patching up exhusband!simon

note: toxic men in fics only!!!! yummy. thank you to everyone who's been reading. ILYSM

#you would think i would learn #my heart says johnny #but my fingers type simon lol #thank you for coming to my ted talk #and reading #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #ghost #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #simon riley x reader #mintfullywrites

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kortac-sweetheart · 3 months ago

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thinking about simon trying (and failing) to court this cute little lovie he’s had his eyes set on. he thinks he’s being forward (he isn’t) and he thinks he’s coming on too strongly so he pulls back (stupid man) and it just ends up sending you mixed signals. you don’t even understand direct signals (you’re very dense) let alone mixed ones, so you think he just hates you (he doesn’t).

well, it’s not your fault. you’ve never been courted before, never mind actually dating. and you’re as dense as a brick wall, even when it comes to friends. so simon trying to court you is like him trying to scale everest with only shoestring and a candy bar for supplies, it’s a painful thing to hear about (mostly talking about simon here).

he thinks that staring at you unblinking from across the room counts as flirting, that leaving ominous one sentenced messages is romantic (“you’re never alone” ? great work, simon. absolutely stellar.)

but the way he ignores you is even worse. radio silence on his end for a week or two straight because he got too flustered at his own actions and thoughts of you to even properly look at you.

johnny that also likes that same little lovie that simon does, but he doesn’t know that simon likes you too. you never mention anything about simon (because why would you?) and simon absolutely never mentions your name or physical description when he talks about his downright beguiling courting attempts on you.

and the thing about johnny is that he’s very, very direct. no mixed signals or beating around the bush bullshit with him, he says what he means and means what he says. all his sweet words and romantic gestures are taken surprisingly well by you, and you��re very flattered. (and flustered, but still very flattered.)

johnny quickly bags you, now his sweet little bonnie, and he’s determined not to let you go. convincing you that he was serious about you was hard work (yes, even harder than diffusing a bomb), and he’s not letting such a sweet thing like you slip from his fingers. he’ll be your first and last relationship, he swears it.

and he’s eager to show you off. but only when you’re finally comfortable with it does he bring you to meet the team at their usual pub.

just imagine the dumbfounded look on simon’s face when he sees you walk in. the little lovie that he tried so so hard to court before, walk in clinging onto johnny’s arm like you’d be swept away in an instant if you didn’t.

“ah’d like fer ye te meet my little bonnie thing! say ‘hi’ love.” and all you can do is give them a little wave and small smile— pointedly avoiding simon’s (still) unsettling stare at you and johnny. johnny (bless him) either doesn’t notice, or he’s too busy cooing and fawning over how cute you are to really care.

either way, it leaves simon staring off into space wondering “when the hell did tha’ happen?”

#leon writes ˖◛⁺⑅♡#cod simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod johnny mactavish #this is so silly my goodness #boyfail simon riley i still love you #sorry simon but johnny just has that irresistable charm

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dduane · 8 months ago

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It's @petermorwood's birthday.

And look at that pic. He's staring at an empty street (it's Exchequer Street in Dublin, seen from the old Exchequer Pub, presently moved down into Ranelagh due to post-COVID stuff) and he still can't keep a straight face.

He's always smiling.

It's what he does. It's not like you don't get scowls out of him sometimes (routinely having to do with the idiocy of people in local/national/world politics). His thoughtful face is routinely on display during the day: like any other responsible adult, from hour to hour he takes in what the current world has to show him, and processes it as best he can. Yet the smile keeps breaking out.

It's usually kinda dry. He's all too aware of the ways any given day can betray you as it unfolds. And this is a man who (years back) was found appropriate to be trained to handle flying machines that could drop what his then-colleagues referred to as "buckets of instant sunshine."

Yet he stepped away from that and got busy with his first Bachelors' degree, the one that had to do with detailed analysis of Chaucer. (Leaving us with the more or less inevitable conclusion that only Geoffrey Chaucer could save us from a Peter Morwood who'd been handed strategic nuclear weapons.)

Since then his preferences have taken him in all kinds of different directions: some of them folkloric (based on childhood reading) and some to do with military concerns both ancient (reaching back to the 1100s and thereabouts) and modern (don't get him started about tanks). He is well-read, thoughtful about what he has read, willing to have his opinions changed by newer data, and always looking for new things to learn about. All of this stuff gets into his fiction, which we're looking forward to bringing into more widespread release in the next year or so as old contracts expire.

Not that I give a shit about that. I didn't just marry some writer. I married Peter Morwood. Every day I wake up next to him, I'm glad he was born. And (what a surprise) I'll be glad about it tomorrow.

...Even if I did marry a snorer. :)

ETA: For those who've expressed concern, the snoring is entirely episodic, is not indicative of respiratory issues, and does not require medical intervention. (Also: it's a Sherlock joke.)

#Peter Morwood #@petermorwood

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b1rds3ye · 2 years ago

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Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI, awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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zhampip · 3 months ago

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Stone and Robotnik are FRIENDS. They are just FRIENDS but they do tend to touch each other longer than is platonically acceptable. Like Stone will put his hand on Robotnik's waist, and Rob will run his fingers across Stone's shoulders and scratch his scalp. Neither seem to be aware they do this. (Robotnik confess already!!)

Since Shadow is now experiencing various types of friendship/love/general human relationships, he can draw from a larger pool of emotions and react accordingly. Basically , he's emotionally maturing!

Piezo is a little creature. It's a mystery who has it at any given moment and it will emerge from someone's pocket at the most comedic time.

None of the three have a stable sleep schedule. Stone can awaken himself in an instant and be fully aware within seconds so he rarely rests fully. Robotnik has spent a lifetime working whenever he feels like it, so he may sleep 2 hours at night then 4 in the day or not at all. Shadow has fears if he sleeps he may not wake up again (stasis PTSD) so he often suffers from insomnia. If they all happen to be awake late at night i think they would play board games.

Robotnik suffers more heart attacks these days due to Stone and Shadow's tendency to move around silently.

Robotnik wants rocket fuel. He wants ROCKET FUEL 🚀

The most popular pub in the town is called The Black Arms (has a badass black knight coat of arms)

Stone likes to fix up old cars and bikes in the garage. He'll get like a banged up old Peugeot 205 and fix it up. Or if it's unsalvageable put it in the yard and grow flowers in the bonnet compartment.

Robotnik cannot see the colour blue without his glasses.

#observatory au #stobotnik #back at it again with the worms

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pookietv · 2 months ago

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lost in translation (part one) | george clarke

hello!!! well isn't this new, me writing a multiple part fic (or me uploading twice in a week nowadays)

pls pls pls tell me if ur enjoying cause i lowkey think i have a cute plot for this so :P

when you had moved to london two years ago, life had gotten pretty fast pretty quick.

you originally came from jersey - quaint and nice to grow up in, but not a fantastic place to explore and grow work experience. you knew chris through his family, your fathers had known each other for a long time, and you were introduced around high school. you and chris had been friends, despite him being a few years older than you.

then, he blew up on youtube, and moved away to london, living with friends, having more job opportunities on his doorstep. you kept in touch, not all the time, but the catch ups, even through phone, were a nice familiarity.

and when you told him how bored you were getting of your job here - assistant manager of a local pub, he mentioned work.

'well, i doubt you'll find what you're looking for in jersey'

you rolled your eyes (though endearingly) at your phone a little as you replied, 'oh yeah, i should just up and leave everything and move somewhere else with no promises of job?'

'well, chrismd industries is always looking for new and bright talent...'

you could almost see the smug grin on his face as that message went through.

and that was that. he rang you, offering you work if you wanted it - saying he wanted production crew that could help not only whilst filming but also as producing things for short form content, like tiktok, instagram, youtube shorts.

and your two years passed, you had a small apartment you were happy with, and a friend group chris had kindly enough adopted you into. you met all the people you had seen him frequenting with on screen, becoming close friends with becky, will and arthur hill.

the group was lovely, outings were often and life was good for you.

your only slight problem?

george clarke.

at first, you got on like a house on fire. you chatted all the time, he sent you things he found funny , you'd go round their house and have movie nights and you and george would always sit beside one another, and on a night out it was always you two lingering around each other, giggling to one another about something or another.

then?

distance happened. you couldn't even pinpoint it really, but he went a little cold. not to everyone, just you. he was the bubbly george clarke in any other conversation, but when it was just you and him? he was quieter, a bit more awkward and dismissive of anything you said to him.

you messaged asking if you'd done anything wrong, and he just said a simple, i don't know what you're talking about, nothings happened.

and so grew a silent seething dislike of stupid george, with his giggly laugh and instant quips.

you'd never let something as silly as that effect your friendships with the rest of them, so you mirrored george - you acted normal in public, ignored each other in private and that's how things ran. to call it a good system would be absurd, but it was a system that worked, and if it wasn't broken, you weren't gonna be the one to fix it.

you told your closer friends about it, about the distance and whilst they agreed, there wasn't much to be done. you told them not to kick up a fuss, if he wanted you to leave him alone you would, and that was that.

and that pretty much led you up to today, in arthur hill's bedroom, laying on his bed and talking nonsense whilst he sat at his desk, replying to some emails and talking back to you.

"oh, i forgot to mention to you, i think we're going to go out for a couple of drinks later on tonight, if you fancy coming," he said, swiveling round in his chair to face his bed, where you were flopped out, staring at the ceiling.

"what like, the whole group?" you asked, lifting your head to look at him.

"nah, just me and george, chris is on a date tonight," arthur replied.

you shrugged, letting your head hit the bed again, "i'll probably give it a miss then, let you two have a date also," you said, trying to make a light joke of the situation. the reality was, as much as you loved arthur, you and george sitting awkwardly and both just conversing to him and rarely talking to each other didn't seem like your perfect idea of fun.

"cause of the george thing?" arthur huffed, rolling his eyes as if chastising you.

"you make it sound like i'm terrified of george or something , but it'd just be awkward for all of us if i came," you responded, lifting your body to sit cross-legged for this conversation.

"you two don't even know what you don't like each other for, you just don't like each other, it's stupid!" arthur huffed, a petulant grin on his face.

"hey, i was left in the dark too, hell even i don't know why he doesn't like me," you half scoffed, half laughed, "it's not like i.. don't like him, we got along well, i'm just not gonna bother with someone who doesn't want me around."

"if it's any consolation, i don't think he doesn't want you around." arthur said, head swivelling back to the computer with a grin on his face.

#george clarkey #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #george clarke #georgeclarkey fic #georgeclarke fic #georgeclarkey x reader #georgeclarke x reader

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solsticehymns · 3 months ago

Text

green light: drabble

james potter x f!reader / ANGST / post-breakup / muggle + modern au

But honey, I'll be seeing you 'ever I go / But honey, I'll be seeing you down every road / I'm waiting for it, that green light, I want it

summary: Breakups are messy. James is handling his the usual way—too many drinks, meaningless flirting, pretending he’s fine. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t outrun the ghost of you.

a/n: WHEWWWW this hurt to write!!! i love making myself cry it's so fun!!! i rly rly love this song too 10/10 no notes breakup song. perfectly captures the emotion, that was the driving factor for me writing this story and. yeah i think i did that. lol i hope you like it! sunny ☀️🌻

wc: 881

“Look at him. He’s completely full of it.”

“Mm,” Remus hums, swirling his drink, watching James over the rim of his glass. “Acting like he’s moved on, but let’s be honest—he’s barely holding it together.”

“You do realize I can hear you, yeah?” James cuts in, raising a brow.

“Oh, we know.” Sirius smirks. “But are you really listening?”

James exhales sharply, tipping his drink back in one go. “Honestly, I’m doing great,” He gestures around with a too-easy grin. “Night out with the lads, no worries, no heartbreak, just good, old-fashioned fun.”

“Right,” Remus deadpans. “That’s why you’re on your fourth drink and eyeing the exit.”

James places a hand over his chest, mock-wounded. “Moony, you cut me deep. I am simply embracing life, taking full advantage of my single era—”

“Spiraling,” Sirius corrects, taking a lazy sip of his drink.

“Thriving,” James counters, flashing a grin before spinning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

They watch him go, exchanging a glance that says they’ve seen this before.

James throws himself into the night, into everything. The flirtations, the drinks, the movement, the easy, messy, meaningless fun. He catches a girl wearing a too-short red dress on the dance floor when she stumbles into him, laughing like he’s got nothing but time and charm to waste.

At the bar, he leans in, voice a deliberate murmur: "You look way too good to be standing here without a drink in your hand—what are we having?"

This girl isn’t the first tonight, and she won’t be the last. He’s lost track of the faces, the fleeting conversations, the way he keeps chasing something easy, something temporary, something that doesn’t necessitate anything real.

She barely humors him. Rolls her eyes, mutters something about trying harder than that, and turns away before he even has the chance to smirk.

James just grins, tossing back the rest of his drink. It’s fine. It’s all a game anyway. It’s easy. It’s working.

Until it isn’t.

A tap on his shoulder.

For a moment—a single, breathless moment—he doesn’t prepare for disappointment. He lets himself believe. Lets himself imagine that if he turns, it will be you. That you will be standing there, looking at him like you used to, as if nothing ever broke, as if he is still yours and you are still his.

He turns.

It isn’t you.

The illusion shatters, and the weight of it crushes him in an instant. The music swells, too loud, pressing against his skull, and suddenly, you are everywhere.

Someone’s perfume lingers in the air, close enough to yours that his breath catches, but wrong enough to leave his chest hollow. The way a girl tosses her hair reminds him of you at a café, head tilted, laughing at something he said, light catching in your eyes. A song hums through the speakers in the pub—he doesn’t know the name, but he remembers you humming it, curled up on his couch, absentminded, effortless. His glass is slick with condensation, and somehow, it takes him back to you pressing a bottle of water into his palm on a sweltering afternoon, your fingers brushing his like it was nothing, like you had all the time in the world.

But time ran out. And now, everywhere he looks, you’re there, except you aren’t.

Instead, there is only this girl with bright eyes and an overeager smile, beguiled by him in a way that should be flattering.

But she is wrong. The way she looks at him is wrong. The way she says, “Hey,” is wrong.

James blinks, swallowing hard. Her words blur beneath the realization—this is what moving on is supposed to look like.

This is the part where he’s meant to forget you, replace you, smile and flirt and give someone new the pieces of himself that you’d left behind.

But nothing about this fits. The music is too loud. The air is too thick. His drink is suddenly too warm in his hand, the ice already melted.

“James,” he says, an automated response, but it doesn’t sound like his own name.

She asks him something—where he’s from, what he does, an inconsequential question—but he barely hears her, far too caught up in the realization that it will never be you again. That he will turn and find her instead of you every time. And there is no getting used to that.

His jaw tightens. He exhales, forced and uneven. “Sorry—I should get back to my friends.”

He doesn’t wait for her response. He’s afraid to turn again, terrified of seeing another phantom you standing there.

At the bar, Remus and Sirius watch his return, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands shove into his pockets as if he’s holding himself together by force.

“Not interested?” Remus asks, though they already know the answer.

James snorts, grabbing another drink. “Nah,” he mutters.

He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to.

He stares down at his drink, turning the glass between his fingers, and considers it—just for a second. Pulling out his phone, typing something short, something he might regret in the morning. Something like, I miss you. Come get your things. Tell me this isn’t really over.

But it’s no use. He can already see the future.

Hope, turn, break.

☀️🌻 masterlist

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