#like simon says except scottish

[flyboytracy]

[s0fter-sin]

reverse verse where soap takes on the mask instead of ghost. he wears his red skull mask so you can see the lower half of his face and his chin scar extends along his whole jaw to look like exposed teeth

[loveindefinitely]

01 — 𝘎𝘖 𝘈𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘊𝘙𝘠, 𝘓𝘐𝘛𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓

༊*·˚ LUST FOR LIFE — task force 141 x reader

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, legal age-gaps, inexperienced reader, virgin reader, corruption kink, slight power imbalance, praise, degradation, light dom/sub, slight daddy kink, oral, vaginal sex, your father's a dick, very minor soapghost, aftercare

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

// NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT //

Stay in your room, your father had said. Don't bother us tonight, your father had said. They are dangerous men that do dangerous things, your father had said.

Yet, here you were, standing at the bottom step of the stairwell, hiding behind the wall adjoined to the living room, listening in to the men on the other side.

You were bored out of your brains. It was a Friday night, and like hell was your over-protective father going to let you go out or party. And the fact that he wouldn't even introduce you to his only friends? Or let you leave your fucking room?

It had left you pissed off to no end, so.

Here you were.

"Bloody close," you hear a voice grunt, deep and gravelly. It sends heat to your stomach immediately, and it's almost embarrassing.

You hear the sound of a hand slapping a shoulder, and the bark of a laugh. "Aye, still got the cash you're gonna owe me?" This voice has a -- Irish? Scottish, maybe? -- lilt to it, humour and kindness embedded into its layers.

"He'll find a way outta paying," a third voice chimes, laughter in its tone.

Someone else clears their throat. "You're all gonna get yourselves indebted to each other at this rate," a fourth voice says, sounding almost resigned.

"You all need to shut the fuck up before she sticks her nose down 'ere."

Your spine straightens, and fury simmers in your blood. Did he have to be such an asshole? Why was your father so... so anti your existence? Why was he so ashamed of you, yet so overbeating?

"She's not a kid anymore, you really oughtta to lay off," the man with the scottish accent says, slightly stern in his delivery.

"If you met her, you'd understand how fuckin' annoying she is. Always wants me to deal with her emotions, as if they're my fuckin' problem," your father replies venomously. Your stomach has dropped to your feet, you're sure of it.

There's a low whistle in response, and a silence settles behind the wall. An unsettling one, full of animosity. The fact that you can tell that from behind the wall says a lot.

"I'm gonna go out and get some drinks. Maybe some dinner. Needa get out of this fuckin' house for a bit," your father says with a grunt, sounding like he's gotten up from the couch. "Call if you lot need anythin' while I'm out."

A few grunts of agreement, and after a few seconds, the front door opens and slams shut.

You let out a small breath of tense relief, eyes fluttering shut as you deeply exhale. The immediate relief of having your father out of the house is immense.

"I feel bad for her," you hear the third man speak, voice quiet and low. "You hear how he speaks about her -- what's he like with her?"

"Gaz, whatever you're thinkin', drop it," the first speaker grits out, impatient and tight.

"He's right," the scottish one says with a huff, "Poor kid. She's legal and he isn't letting her out on a Friday night? 'Nd he fuckin' wonders why she's upset."

"He must have his... reasons," the fatherly voice of the fourth speaker says, although his tone says otherwise.

You swallow, slowly creeping off of the bottom step and onto the wooden floors. Front pressed to the wall, you move just the slightest bit, to allow yourself a small peak into the loungeroom.

There are four men, like you'd expected, and they're...

They're big. There's no other word that comes to mind, except for big. Tall, broad, packed with muscle. Military-grade men.

Your mouth is suddenly parched of any moisture, and your brain turns to putty.

Selfishly, stupidly, you spend another dangerous moment to admire the four. The couch curves, the four of them seated on it, facing the TV hung on the wall. They're backs are to you.

Or.

One second, they're all blissfully turned the other way, and in the next, one's head turns, and deep brown eyes meet yours.

Your eyes go wide, and you immediately dart for the stairs, heart in your throat.

Rushing up, trying to stay quiet but still hurrying, you make it to your room in record time. You shut the door behind you, chest tight and breaths harried as your back presses to the wood.

Stupid, stupid girl, you think.

They are dangerous men who do dangerous things.

That's what your father had said, wasn't it? So what were you thinking, risking a look? For what purpose?

Then, there's a knock on your door.

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and your lips purse together as you slowly move away from the door. With one breath, you train your face into a pleasant, kind smile as you slowly open the door, only allowing a bit of your room to be shown.

"You're his daughter, ain't ya?"

You have to crane your neck, eyes going up, and up, and up, until you meet the man's eyes.

The skull balaclava shouldn't cause your face to heat, or your breaths to quicken, but they do.

"I -- um, yes, I'm really sorry for eavesdropping," you mumble, eyes flitting to the floor and hand squeezing the door in an anxious gesture.

A hand grabs your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the man's chocolate eyes once more. They're imploring, impossibly so, and your thighs squeeze together against your better judgement.

"Come watch the game with us," he says, and although the sentence isn't a demand, it feels like one.

So, like the good girl you are, you nod, his grip loosening as you do.

You forget that you're in your tiniest sleep shorts and your thinnest tank top as you follow him down the stairs, his large hand resting on your lower back.

This was the most touch you'd ever felt from a man that wasn't in a familial way, and your nerve-endings feel like they've been electrocuted.

Whatever conversation that was happening silences as soon as the two of you walk into the lounge room, your hands squeezing each other painfully tight.

Your anxiety was warranted in this situation, wasn't it? Surely, it was okay to be scared of four men whom you'd never met.

Four sets of eyes are trained to your body, and there's a slight tremble in your hands as you sit in the spot balaclava had gestured towards.

It seats you in the middle of the four of them, and your heart beats impossibly faster as you settle into the leather, feeling so small in comparison to the men surrounding you.

It's a new, albeit not entirely terrible, feeling.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" The man furthest to your left asks, and when you meet his eyes, they're warm and kind. His lower face is mostly covered in a beard, and he's wearing a light brown hat.

You bite at your inner cheek, gaze flicking back to your thighs as you weakly say your name.

Their gazes burn your skin, like a living force, and your hands form nervous fists in your lap. The warm yellow light of the living room lamp creates a warm, safe ambience that doesn't exactly fit the emotions swirling inside of you.

You flinch only slightly when a warm hand moves to rest on your knee, the thumb rubbing comforting circles on it that ease your tight muscles slightly.

When you look to the owner of the hand, it's to see a warm grin and a faux mohawk.

"You're so tense, lass," he says, his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. "We don't bite."

"Don't speak for all of us, Soap," the man sitting on your close left says with a charming grin, his eyes meeting yours when you turn to him. "I'll ask nicely, love, don't worry."

You nod, slowly, in some sort of trance. This entire situation doesn't feel entirely real, more like a figment of your deepest desires.

Ones you've never let yourself think about, except for the darkest of nights and the dirtiest of feelings.

"Don't scare the girl," the man with the balaclava says, eyes narrowing on the two men beside you.

"Says the one with the fuckin' mask, ya weirdo," the scottish one says with a scoff of a chuckle. Your mouth pulls into a soft grin without you realising, and the hand on your knee tightens ever so slightly.

"I'm Price," the man who you've deemed the most sensible of the group says with a warm smile. His head gestures to each of the other three men respectively. "That's Gaz, Soap, and Ghost."

You can't say that you're all too familiar with the names, nor how...different they are, but you nod nonetheless, reserving the names in your memory.

"Father dearest never talked about us?" Gaz asks, eyebrows softly furrowing in question.

You shake your head, almost apologetic in the movement. "He doesn't like to tell me much, he's, ah... private."

There's a few returning grunts of understanding, and they settle your nerves just a little bit more. For men of their size, they were surprisingly good at keeping you feeling safe and comfortable.

"What're you doin' all alone on a Friday night? Pretty young thing like you, 'nd you're not at a club? A date?" Soap asks, and if you notice that he's moved just the slightest bit closer to you, you don't say a word.

You feel your face heat, and you murmur out your reply. "Never been to either," you admit, pulling at a thread in your sleep shorts with nervous jerks.

Ghost settles further into his chair, legs spread in an almost dominant way. "Surely you've at least had your first kiss?"

If you could get anymore embarrassed, you're sure you'll combust on the spot.

You softly shake your head.

"Aw, love, you're adorable," Gaz says, a hint of a smirk on his features. His dark eyes glimmer in the light, and you lick your bottom lip to wet it.

Price's arms rest on his knees, and his eyes seem trained on you, debating some sort of inner conflict, before they firm with some kind of resolution. "Y'know, we've been training rookies lately," he states, but with a knowing undertone that everyone in the room seems to pick up on except for you.

"That we have," Ghost says, his voice sending shivers down your spine as he nods in agreement with Price.

"How about we train you, bonnie?" Soap asks, his hand moving just the slightest bit higher on your thigh.

You swallow, mouth dry.

"Um. Like, train me... how?" You ask, although there's some part of your brain that knows all too well what area they're thinking of.

Gaz's hand moves to sit at the nape of your neck, stroking in soothing movements that leave your eyes half-closed and glassy. "How about I show you how to kiss, love?"

Your stomach hollows, and your chest rises and falls in heavy beats. Nervously looking around the room, you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod shortly.

Soap's hand tightens around your thigh, a barely hidden warning. "Words, baby, or you're goin' back to your room."

The threat instantly has words flying out of your mouth. "Yes. Please. Just... be gentle?"

All four men seem to huff a laugh at that, but Gaz nods, dimples showing as his smirk deepens. "I can do that."

He pulls you in, and your eyes flutter shut as his lips meet yours.

The feeling leaves you entirely dazed, your nervous system alighting with signals as your thoughts seem to pause, if only for a second. It's nothing like you'd expected, and butterflies erupt in your lower stomach.

He pulls away, not having breached your mouth, and you must look as out of it as you feel because he laughs.

"That good, love?" He asks, teasing and entirely prideful.

You nod, a bit too fast and enthusiastic, before his hand pulls away from your nape. The loss is mourned, briefly, before your attention pulls away from Gaz and instead to Soap.

"Gotta learn from all of us," is all he says, before his lips crush against your own. Where Gaz was tentative and soft, Soap is all energy and desperation.

His hand squeezes your thigh, and when it had moved from your knee to pushing against your tiny shorts, you haven't an idea.

You can't find it in yourself to care, with his relentless attack on your mouth, your lips, your mind.

When he pulls away, you realise it's because Ghost's moved to stand, and his hand is in a tight fist in Soap's hair, pulling his face away from yours.

"Actin' like a fuckin' mutt," Ghost mutters, tone laced with vitriol. It's degrading, and yet Soap doesn't seem phased in the slightest.

You're about to inquire about that when your attention's caught by Price, his knees spread and patting his thigh. "C'mere, sweetheart," he says, and like a dog on a leash, you do.

His unbelievably large hands grab your hips as he seats you in his lap, and with how he's got his legs spread, it forces you to sit over his groin.

It's a compromising position, and the heat that rushes to your core is an entirely unknown feeling.

He doesn't move his hands from your body as his eyes devour it, before they meet your gaze with a warmth to them that has you shivering.

"Show me what the boys have taught you, hm?" He says, and with shut eyes and a stiff movement, you press your lips to his.

He groans, pleased, his thumbs rubbing circles where your skin's been revealed by your tank top. No one's ever touched you there, not in this way, and it has your pussy wet.

When he pulls away, he licks at his lips, as if he's devouring your taste.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart, mm? No wonder your father's got you all locked up," he says, and the reminder of the source of your anger has you wanting to do entirely too reckless things.

Like kissing the four men he warned you about.

Like doing more, maybe.

...Maybe.

His hands force your hips down, and you let out a small whimper when your clit presses against his belt buckle, the action sending pleasure shooting up your spine.

He raises a brow, catching the change in expression and your small sound. "What's wrong, pretty?"

And then, he pulls you down again, deeper this time, and the movement has your breath hitching, core burning with need.

"Oh, you naughty little girl," he says, and the words have your mind turning into some sort of mouldable clay, entirely able to be controlled by whatever these men wanted to make of it. "So needy, ain't ya?"

Someone presses against you from behind, and a belt buckle presses against your lower back.

"My turn to feel those lips, innit?" Ghost says from behind, leaning down to whisper his next words next to your ear. "See what all the fuss 's about."

The idea that you're being passed around, like you're some kind of... of whore has you entirely speechless in the most positive of ways.

You feel filthy, and you love it.

Leaning your head back, you manage to make eye contact with the large man, before his lips press to yours, upside down.

He devours, all encompassing, his tongue slipping into yours without any hesitance. You're clumsy, unsure, but he makes up for it with experience and dominance. The entire act has you woozy, needy for more of them, more of their touch.

You don't expect for Price to start forcibly rotating your hips, forcing you to grind against his lap, but it forces a moan from your mouth, the sound getting devoured by Ghost's overpowering tongue.

"Who knew she'd be such a desperate slut?" Gaz asks, as if you're not there, as if you're just something to be observed. It causes another moan to leave your mouth, and Ghost detaches himself from you with a grunt of his own.

"Think she liked that," Soap says, amused and proud, in a strange sort of way. "Wanna be used, baby? Taken by men nearly twice your age?"

"Yes," you say, on a groan as Price's motions speed up, the pleasure so new and different and good.

Then, he stops, and a whine comes out of you before you can stop it.

Price makes a condescending noise in response. "Poor babygirl needs all the attention, hey? Needs her little pussy played with?"

"She looks like a goddamn mess, cap," Gaz says, his hand coming up to rest on your head. He gives comforting pats, not unlike one would with an obedient puppy.

Ghost's hands come around your waist, and before you even process what he's doing, he rips your sleep shorts in half, leaving you completely bare.

"Didn't think to wear panties, dumb girl?" Ghost asks with an appreciative groan, his large hand cupping your now exposed pussy.

With a whimper, you shake your head, your eyes squeezed shut at the embarrassment and nudity. No one had ever seen it before, and now, four of your father's friends were getting an eyeful.

"Lemme see if she's nice 'n wet for us," Soap murmurs, picking you up from Price's lap in a princess carry.

It doesn't even last two seconds before he's splaying you over the now empty couch, your hands pathetically covering your most private of areas.

"None of that, sweetheart," Price says with a 'tsk', grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the couch above your head, leaving you effectively defenceless to the men.

Soap's hand moves down your stomach, before he pauses for just a moment. "This okay, baby?"

You nod, because yes, this is most definitely okay.

Gaz gives you a stern look, so you quickly fix your mistake. "I -- yes, sir, it's okay."

There's a surrounding sound of approval, and Soap smirks from where he stands beside your hips. "Sir, aye? Like the sound of that."

With that, his finger slides down your pussy, and your eyes shut with a soft moan. His hands are rough, scarred, calloused from years of work on the field, and they're so much larger than your own.

"Think she likes it, sir," Ghost says, taunting Soap, whose eyes are completely transfixed on your glistening pussy.

"Not the only one," Price says with an approving murmur, his hand tightening around your wrists. The sense of powerlessness has you aching with desire.

Soap's finger continues to rub against your slit, not breaching your entrance, instead continuing to tease and amplify his touch. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at the mess you're likely causing on the fabric, and too nervous to see the expression on the men's faces.

"Do you play with your lil cunt often, princess?" Ghost says, voice darkened with lust.

Your face feels like it's burning, but you nod. "Sometimes. I -- ah," you break off with a moan as Soap's thumb presses against your swollen clit.

"Be a good girl and answer when spoken to, love," Gaz says with a sound of disappointment that has you aching to amend your mistake.

"I'm sorry, sir, I, yes. Sometimes 'm just needing to, um, y'know..." You trail off, trying to preserve any amounts of dignity you had left. You were aware that masturbation was normal, but you'd never discussed it with a single soul, and talking about it felt like laying your soul bare.

Price's other hand moves to gently brush your hair from your face, the gesture so at odds with Soap's sensual movements.

You're about to say something, what, you aren't exactly sure, when Soap's finger roughly enters your soaked pussy. A loud whimper escapes your lips at the sudden intrusion, and the sheer size difference of his finger compared to your own.

"Aww, baby, it's alright," Soap coos, and it's so fucking condescending. It's cruel, almost, as if you're so dumb that you can't even form your own thoughts.

Which is, honestly, more true than you're willing to admit.

"'Atta girl," Ghost groans when your whimpers only increase with every thrust of Soap's finger.

Gaz's hand moves down to replace Soap's thumb on your clit, using the pads of his fingers to roughly circle around it. That sensation, mixed with Soap's intrusion, has your back arching slightly from the couch.

"Think she's close, Cap," Gaz says, conversationally, again treating you like you're not entirely capable of voicing your own feelings or thoughts.

"Mm, that right, sweetheart? Close already?" Price echoes, the hand not around your wrists going to squish your cheeks together, causing your lips to pucker. "What a pathetic girl, hm?"

Those words, those demeaning, humiliating words, only stoke the fire in your stomach, and your eyes burn with unshed tears as you shakily nod.

As soon as you do, however, Gaz pulls away, and Soap's finger leaves your pussy entirely. You groan, eyes opening slightly to see what could've possibly caused them to stop.

"You look so upset, baby," Soap laughs, and his smile is no longer the jovial one it had been mere minutes before -- no, it's been replaced with something much more predatory, something much more dangerous.

Dangerous men.

Ghost moves, then, moving your legs with much more care than you'd expected from the large man, before moving to kneel at the end of the couch where your legs had been. Hooking your knees over his shoulder, he effectively folds you in half.

"W-what are you doing?" You ask, almost frantic, utterly confused at your current state.

He leans down, hooking his balaclava over the tip of his nose, before there's searing wet heat at your core, causing you to throw your head back with a loud moan.

Gaz chuckles, "So dirty, love. Like having the big bad Ghost with his head between your legs, huh? Like having the attention of men with blood on their hands?"

Oh, and the confirmation -- the proper, hard proof, that they killed, that they truly were as dangerous as your father had said --

"Yes, fuck, please, oh my god," you ramble, almost incoherent with your words as you body trembles with the feeling of a mouth at your pussy. "Jesus, don't stop."

You can hear laughter around you, some words being passed between the men, but your focus is entirely on the tongue dipping into your folds, licking at your essence like a man starved. Like you're his only salvation.

Soap's hand is in Ghost's hair, a complete parallel to the kiss the two of you had shared, and he's pushing Ghost further against you, manhandling him like a toy for you to grind against, for you to take advantage of.

"I'm gonna, oh, please, I'm close," you cry out, eyes squeezed shut yet again as Ghost's ministrations only double in enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over his face? Go on, ride it, there we go," Price eggs you on, his hand patting down your hair, massaging at your scalp as you lose yourself to the pleasure of it all.

You cum with a desperate keen, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you ride out the high, embracing this moment for the beauty it is.

It doesn't hit you, not at first, the full extent of your actions.

Ghost pulls away after your whimpers turn into ones of overstimulation, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, your twitching pussy, and then your inner knee as he carefully sets your legs back down on the couch.

"Such a good girl, aye?" Soap asks, rubbing at your tense calves with expert strokes and pressure. "Did so well for us, darlin'."

Your head feels like it's been filled with cotton, and your mouth is in a similar state as you nod dazedly.

You're not sure when, but at some point, Price gently moves you to lay your back against the cushion of the couch. "Need you to drink something for us, sweetheart, okay?"

Gods, this part? Them treating you like a princess, like you're something worthy of taking care of, it's almost as good as the orgasm they'd given you.

Gaz comes into view with a glass of water, and when he gently moves your chin to open your mouth, you let him pour it down your throat.

It feels almost like you're entirely too weak to do anything by yourself, like your ability to function has been completely removed by these men. It's intoxicating, the kind of feeling that could be as addictive as the most threatening of drugs.

The water slides down your throat, and it's as if it cools you from the inside out, your heartbeat slowly coming down from the quickened pace it was previously at.

Price picks you up, cradling your head to his chest as he sits down, the other three settling down on the couch as well. Gaz, sitting beside Price, moves your legs to sit over his lap, your feet in Soap's. Ghost sits to Soap's left, his eyes focused on you as you get comfortable, burrowing your head closer to Price.

If you could stay in this moment forever, you think that you'll be a very happy woman.

Closing your eyes, you drift into a space between sleep and awareness, and when they flutter open again, you realise that your previously exposed pussy and legs are now hidden by your sweatpants that had been laid on your bed, ready to be put away.

Price's hand is in your hair, softly playing with the strands. His hand encompasses your entire scalp, almost, and if you weren't completely exhausted, that fact alone would have you ready to get on your knees.

"What're we gonna do?" Gaz whispers, and you realise with a start that they must all think you're still dozing. "I mean, we seriously fucked this up."

"Not yet we haven't," Ghost interrupts, voice still gravelly and low, but with a hint of warmth. "This doesn't change anything."

"This changes everything!" Soap hisses back, incredulous, his hands stilling from where they were rubbing into your feet with practiced movements. Were they all trained masseuses, or something?

No. Trained killers, your mind unhelpfully supplies, and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god. Oh god. What had you done? Seriously, what the actual fuck had you done? You just.

You just lost your virginity to four of your father's very lethal, very dangerous friends. Friends who are nearly twice your age, at that.

Oh. God.

"Laswell will be expecting correspondence by three," Price mutters in a voice akin to a whisper. "You boys know what we have to do."

What? What were they talking about? Who was Laswell? What did they have to do by three?

Your mind whirrs, like a hamster in a wheel, before the sound of keys jingling on the other side of your front door has your entire body freezing.

Oh god.

Oh. God.

"Shit," Gaz grumbles, and between one thought and the next, you've been bundled up into a warm chest, the movement fluid and shockingly quick. A hand at the base of skull softly pushes your head against a warm neck, and your legs hang over a muscled arm. "I'll take her upstairs. Be quiet and quick."

There's murmurs too quiet between the other three as you're taken up the stairs, two steps at a time, by the man whose fingers had been on your pussy, at most, only an hour ago.

You're aware that you've been taken to your room when the door clicks behind you, the familiar path to it engrained in your memory, even with your eyes closed and in someone else's arms.

The smell of vanilla and caramel is a comforting and familiar one, and you realise that you'd left your candle burning all night.

It's really the least of your worries, but that thought manages to snag at your conscious like an annoying fly.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Gaz whispers, gently laying you down underneath your bedsheets, before pulling them up and over your lazed form. "I'll try my best to talk some sense into 'em."

You're not sure what he could possible mean -- what the fuck was even happening, what your life was even becoming, but his words are nothing if not sincere.

His tone is almost... apologetic, in a way, and you reserve that thought for later. When you're not pretending to be awake, when you're still not slightly out of it from your first orgasm caused by someone else, when you're not in the middle of the worst moral conflict of your life.

Your window's slightly open, allowing a soft breeze to brush over your still slightly heated skin as Gaz presses a soft kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair back.

"Get off me!"

Your father. That's your father's voice, and it sounds panicked, angry -- not unusual, but still, the cause of it was nearly always you.

And those specific words, what --

"Y'know, Laswell found out somethin' pretty interestin' the other day," a voice that you recognise as Ghost's says, tone mocking interest.

Gaz moves away from you, before going to the window and looking out at whatever scene is happening down there. Somehow, he hasn't realised you're not asleep -- you'd kept your breathing pattern the same as it usually was when you're asleep, some youtube video you'd watched months ago finally coming in handy.

You can hear them all clear as day through the small opening of the window, and Gaz can too.

"Aye. Somethin' 'bout some info bein' leaked," Soap continues Ghost's train of thought, and you're so lost it's almost pathetic.

But, you continue to listen, desperate for any source of understanding for whatever the fuck was happening down there.

"You can't possibly think it was me!" Your father yells, his voice full of venom and rage. To have it not be directed at you is a rare moment, and you allow yourself a small breath of reprieve.

"We know it was you," Price says, before sighing loud enough for it to be heard from your room. "The way you spoke about that kid of yours was enough to cement the idea."

"She's a fuckin' waste of space, and where do you get off on caring how I treat my kid? Has nothin' to do with the job!"

Those words hurt. Like an actual, physical wound, almost.

Gaz swears under his breath, and you can feel the tension ooze out of him like a wave. It's... oddly comforting.

There's the sound of a fist hitting a jaw, and it takes everything in you not to race to the window and look at what's going on yourself.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Your father hisses, and you put two and two together. One of the three men down there had punched him -- if you had to take a guess, it was Ghost.

"You've never been one of us, and you'll never be one of us. You sellin' us out was the last straw, mate," Soap snarls. You can hear him spit on the ground, before another sound of fists flying makes your heart race.

There's a moment of silence, until two things happen in the span of five seconds.

First, your father screams, "Please! Don't --"

And then...

A bullet.

The sound of a trigger being pulled.

The sound of a bullet ringing through the air.

The sound of a final breath.

Your eyes fly wide, and you immediately stumble out of bed.

Gaz's gaze meets yours, and there's nothing but apology in them. No guilt, just apology.

He doesn't stop you from looking out the window, where your father's body lays in the grass, blood leaking from the wound now sitting between his eyes.

And when you turn to him, he doesn't stop you as you land a punch to his jaw.

a/n. CROSS-POSTED TO AO3 ummm so did i PLAN for this to become an actual fic? no. not in the slightest. but i was writing the fingering bit and was like. what if her dad died? and there's an actual plot? so uhhh here we are! anyways hope yall enjoyedddd if u guys know me u know polyamory is my SHIT so there will very likely be more poly!tf141 x reader to come. ty for reading mwah mwah mwah

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Author's Note: I had a comment left on my post HERE. The person who commented brought up this scenario of Simon being dared to kiss you and you think that he won't, but he actually does and sparks end up flying. So, of course, I had to write it because... I mean... Come on... (lol). And here it is.

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader, Soap

Summary: During a game of Truth or Dare, your lieutenant is dared into giving you a kiss, but something about the way he has been acting lately may mean this is going to be more than a quick ordeal. And the way you have been feeling towards him won't be helping.

Word Count: 4k

Part 2: READ HERE

The night has started innocently enough: you and your fellow officers sit around together in the rec, blowing off a little steam after another successful mission. Some nice, simple fun of playing cards and shooting the shit like you usually do when leaving the base to go down to the bar isn’t an option. Everyone happens to be here tonight, including that brooding, mask-faced lieutenant that you can’t seem to keep your mind from drifting to as he stands against the wall behind you. 

Maybe it’s just your imagination, but you’ve noticed that the lieutenant’s presence has become more and more common lately, especially when you’re around. He keeps mostly to himself, staying on the edge of the fun by just watching, yet you swear that if you are stealthy enough from out of the corner of your eye you can catch his gaze lingering in your direction. 

Whether it’s just a trick of your mind or the truth, either way it makes your pulse race. And tonight is no exception.

All has been pretty calm so far, nothing too rowdy or out of hand. At least, it was until now as the night has waned on and inhibitions have fallen. What was once an innocent bit of fun has turned a bit more risque as Soap decides that cards aren’t enough to keep everyone entertained. What game is it he always seems to pick when everyone is more loose? One where the consequences always end up interesting: Truth or Dare.  

Several rounds have passed already where the truths have consistently gotten more honest and the dares even more spicy. No one is ready to call it quits just yet, but there is one person that hasn’t had a turn after all this time and that just won’t do, not if the Scottish sergeant has anything to say about it. Taking matters into his own hands, Soap turns his attention to the big man standing with his arms crossed, watching quietly. 

“Oy, Lt. Come on, you’re already ‘ere. Ya gotta join us,” Johnny says through the raucous laughter to drag the silent lieutenant into the merriment. “Or are ya chicken, hmm?”

As much as you want Lt. Riley to join in, you would rather him stick around and something like this could get him to walk out; you don’t want that to happen. “Fucking can it, Johnny,” you say as you strike him in the bicep with your fist. “You’re talking out of your ass, alright? Knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise and yours, after a momentary pause, Lt. Riley steps up closer to the table with his arms still crossed. “ ‘s fine,” he dismisses your concern. “But, one round is all you’re gonna fuckin’ get from me, sergeant, so better make it count.”

Johnny nods his head in agreement, actually caught off guard that he is even able to get this far with the ever stoic and cold-shouldered officer. It all seems a bit too easy, but Soap isn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this to get the lieutenant involved. He’s gotta make this good whatever it is that gets chosen and so he pauses a minute to think of an idea for either scenario before speaking up. “Alright Lt, ye know how it goes. Truth or dare?”

Truth is never going to be an option for Lt. Riley, not with the level of secrecy he keeps to at all times when it concerns his life; he knows if he gives Johnny an inch he will take a goddamn mile. So, there is only one other option and though he tries to hide the fidgeting in his hands, he picks it.  

Maybe it’ll be something that’ll help him strike up a conversation with you later. “Dare,” he says. 

The grin that lights up Soap’s face instantly lets the entire table know that he is up to no good and the words that follow are a testament to that fact. You thought you knew Johnny well enough by now, but not even you could have been prepared for what came out of his mouth then. “Alright, I dare ye ta kiss our sassy little sergeant right here,” he says as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze. 

You meet his blue eyes and hold them in stunned silence. Is he fucking serious? As if Lt. Riley would ever go for something so fucking dumb as this. Johnny has to be out of his goddamn mind to put you in this position; it’s like he knows something he shouldn’t. Again your immediate reaction is to sock him in the arm, this time a bit harder to drive home the point that you are done with his bullshit. 

And yet… shockingly… you hear the lieutenant speak up.

“Fine,” Lt. Riley agrees to everyone’s amazement. 

You turn your attention to face him. “Are you sure? Johnny’s just being a dick, you don’t have to listen to him, sir,” you reassure as you shoot a glare that has the Soap nervously shifting in his seat, worrying about what is going to happen to him later for pulling such a ridiculous stunt.

“Said it’s fine,” he repeats, his gruff tone metered. “But I ain’t doin’ it ‘ere though; you’re not gettin’ a free fuckin’ show if that’s what you’re after Mactavish.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll give ya that,” Johnny concedes. Those blue eyes scan the room for a solution. “How about ‘round tha corner there.”

He points to the bend in the wall a few feet away; far enough from the group that they won’t be able to tell what’s happening behind it. Since there are now stipulations that the lieutenant has set, Johnny is going to add his own as well for good measure. “However,” he pipes up, “since it ain’t in front a us here, ya gotta stay in place for 10 minutes. I doubt ye’ll actually do anything, but might as well make ye both have ta awkwardly stand there for a bit. And don’t think yer gonna pull a fast one; I’m gonna be countin’.”

You look back at the lieutenant and he gives a nod. “Fine,” you agree as well. How you are able to keep your voice so steady when you feel that jolt deep in the pit of your stomach is a mystery, but you pull it off just fine.

With the rules set Lt. Riley stares at you as if waiting for you to get up from your seat first before he moves. You do and he immediately follows close behind as you make your way over to the wall just past the corner amidst the sounds of whistles and whoops. With a quick flip of the bird back over your shoulder to the group, you both vanish around the side and come to a stop a few feet from the edge. 

You lean your back up against the wall as he comes to stand in front of you, watching you intensely through the opening in his thin balaclava. As you wait to see who will speak first, you notice a tension in his broad shoulders that hadn’t been there before. This is the first time you both have ever been this close to one another and you can’t overlook the fact that he seems even bigger now that you are standing so near; you can’t help but admire how small you feel next to him.  

The longer he stares at you with those golden eyes, studying your face as if he is deciding something, the more rapid your heartbeat thumps heavy in your chest. He takes a step closer and then another before coming to a stop again. Now there is less than a foot’s distance between your bodies and suddenly there is a shift in the atmosphere around you both, a thick tension that is growing harder to ignore. 

The sounds of laughter filters over to the both of you, breaking you out of the haze of your thoughts. “You know, we don’t have to do anything. If you want me to lie, it’s fine, sir,” you speak before he has a chance to. “Fuck Johnny for putting us in this situation. We can just stand here in silence until we get called back.”

He clears his throat. “Who said anythin’ ‘bout lyin’?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow that you can make out through the mask. “Just don’t wanna, is that it?” 

Something in the way he says the statement catches you off guard. Why does he sound slightly disappointed? Did he want to actually do this? You couldn’t really believe that; no, you must be reading this all wrong. “No, that’s not…” you stumble over your words; why is it getting harder to speak? “I just… didn’t think you’d want to… but… if you do then…”

“Yes or no?” he cuts off your string of stammering.

“Yes,” you confirm. 

Nothing else needs to be said other than that. His hand moves to his face, his fingers finding the bottom edge of his mask, and now you can’t breathe as you wait to see what’s under there. This is the first time you’ll be able to see more than just his eyes and that leaves your mind reeling.

Okay, you prepare yourself, it’s just a kiss, right? Nothing to it; you’ve been kissed before. This will be no different. Just breathe and we’ll get through it.

The mask is wrenched up above his nose so that his mouth is revealed and spread across waiting for you is a subtle, cocky smirk. Your cheeks flush as your eyes are drawn to the facial hair covering his jaw and outlining his lips; short, light brown outgrowth from not having shaved today. It accentuates his strong jaw perfectly and though you try, you can’t look away.

Still focused on his face you miss the warning as a strong hand suddenly finds its way onto your waist as he moves against you. His broad chest is pressed up to yours, you can feel it through the thinner fabric of his shirt, and you can’t tell whether it’s your own pounding heartbeat or his that you feel. That tension is suffocating now that he is this close, the air so thick it feels like you can cut it with a knife. You wait impatiently for the moment to finally break.  

It feels like you are holding your breath when after a few more seconds he finally speaks. “Good,” he says with a bit of breathiness to his voice, “cause I’m no liar.”

Leaning his head down slowly to reach you his lips inch ever closer until you can feel their warm, ghostly presence brush over your mouth causing your eyes to flutter shut as the ecstasy from the anticipation of them making contact overwhelms you. They are there, right there, and you plead with the universe to finally let them touch. You feel him inhale sharply and with that they are crashing against yours. It is with such an automatic, visceral intensity that it knocks the wind from your lungs.

Simon had been certain until the second your lips made contact that he could keep himself under control, that this was nothing more than sinless fun, but as he breathes in the hot, moist air from your mouth while he captures it again, he already knows that this is not going to end how he has intended. There is an immediate magnetism that you both cannot pull from and what is supposed to be something quick, turns mind-numbing in an instant.

Time stands still as your lips twine together in that familiar back and forth and what can only be a few short seconds extend out into an eternity. It’s like flicking on a switch how easily you melt into his embrace, like acquainted lovers, like your lips have always meant to be pressed tightly together. 

How can this be the first time you have ever kissed?

The stubble covering the exposed half of his face pricks along your cheeks the more he advances; the skin around your lips and your jaw growing more raw each time he moves, but the way it makes your face burn is far from painful. His breathing has become more strained, muscles tensing as he risks nipping carefully at the skin on your lower lip.

You inhale a sharp breath through your teeth and then it happens: an unconscious reaction to the pleasure surging through your veins like liquid fire. You can’t stop yourself as a sneaky moan creeps up your throat and before you can swallow it back down you hum it into his mouth. 

That low, alluring sound leaves that hulking military officer hungry to hear more. Those large hands of his desperately want to paw at your body, to caress all those silky curves against the coarse skin of his palms, to let his fingertips linger at all that delicately soft flesh for as long as he can. A deep, gnawing ache settles itself in his chest as he takes your lips with more feral aggression; Simon has never craved something more in that moment than to keep you like this entangled with him. 

The longer he goes, the more there is nothing tentative about his movements; he kisses you like he owns you. Lt. Riley steals from you as if your lips are air and he will suffocate without them, his desperation is the kind that feels like this is life or death and he needs you to survive. You are unprepared for the fucking bliss of it all, the raw, unbridled passion that his lips create as the friction abrades the tender skin of your mouth. 

And your thoughts scream for him to keep going.

You match his intensity with your own, kissing him back with everything that you have in you. He opens his mouth slightly and without thinking your tongue moves in and presses against his, trying to shove its way into his mouth. Fuck, he is not prepared for you to be so keen and it throws him off for only a moment before he leans into that passion and comes back with his response.

The lieutenant braces one of his large hands near your hip, pinning you to the wall while his mouth engulfs your own as he slides his tongue in between your teeth to fill the cavity full. It slithers over the surface of your tongue towards the back of your mouth, the taste of you intoxicating so that he cannot get enough. The pleasure is so intense that it severs his connection with reality and everything outside of your joined mouths fades away into background noise. His other hand moves from your waist and is suddenly wrapped around the back of your neck, his thumb holding steadily against your jaw to keep your head securely in his grip so that he can pull you as tight against his face as he can stand. 

Your head is reeling from the potency of those hot, feverish lips that are suck yours into their desperate embrace. Then his knee forcefully pries its way between your thighs and you are sure that you will not come back from this. It’s too much to handle and you’ve lost all control… no, that’s not right. You’ve yielded everything completely to him without even having to think about it and he has taken every single ounce of what he has been given as if it has always been his. 

Leaning up into him, you stand up on the balls of your feet as he guides the movement of your head by tilting it from one side to the other in that natural dance that happens when lips play. You are both insatiable as that carnal need to devour the other makes it impossible to not relinquish yourselves to the ecstasy that overwhelms in that moment. 

Never in your life have you wanted a man to possess you more than you want your superior to right now. Images of him picking you up and slamming your back into the wall, making you encircle his waist with your legs, his cock straining and throbbing between your clothed sex as you plead with him to take you, fill your mind until they make you light-headed. 

Lt. Riley is not faring any better and he has to focus his entire will into keeping his hands engaged so that he can resist the tingling in his fingertips to find the button on your pants and undo them. If you were alone without the threat of interruption, you might already be half undressed by now, but just as that urge reaches its peak and his fingers are moving in, you both hear the words that make your hearts sink.

“Eh, you two,” you hear Soap calling out from a distance, “times up.”

It is torture to pull away from you; Simon is on the verge of combusting from being forced to stop before he is ready.  But he has to or else he might be found out and there is still hesitation to admit that he might actually want more of this. Even after the ecstasy you both had just shared he isn’t sure how far he should let this go and so with a sigh of defeat he releases your lips from his own. 

By the time he lets you go and moves out from between your legs, your stance is unsteady and your mind fuzzy. The sudden lack of pressure against your mouth leaves you feeling empty and you have to stop yourself from whining aloud. As your eyes slowly flutter open you look up into his face and are met with that chocolate brown gaze lingering on you. There is something swimming in the depths of his eyes: a question, a statement, you’re not sure, but he doesn’t say it aloud. The need to say something yourself eats at you, but you close your mouth tight and bite your tongue to keep silent. 

You can’t bring yourself to risk admitting that you don’t want him to stop; what if he doesn’t feel the same? The pressures of putting it all out there at this moment is too much to handle. Instead, you let the moment die away quietly as you breathe deeply through your nose.

“Times up,” Lt. Riley repeats the phrase softly as he situates his balaclava back down under his chin to hide himself from you once again. The others are cheering for your return, giving you no time to collect yourself, so you simply sigh and stride back to the group together.

Heads turn your direction as you reappear back into the main room. “Well?” the heavily accented voice of the bastard that has orchestrated this whole thing questions you both. 

Trying not to stumble back to your seat, you play it off as if you hadn’t just had your soul sucked out through your lips. “Well what?” you return as the lieutenant passes you up and takes his place back behind the group.

Soap’s brow furrows. “Don’t play dumb with us, lass,” he chides. “Was he any good?”  

You cautiously take your seat back where you had been as everyone waits for your answer, trying to give yourself more time to calm your pulse that is still racing like wildfire through your tingling limbs. “It was fine,” you say, hoping you are collected enough to pull off such a bold-faced lie. 

“Oh really?” Johnny asks skeptically as he eyes you up and down to read your body language. Your heart leaps in your chest as you think you’ve been found out, that the bloom in your cheeks is still too noticeable, but he continues like nothing. “I think yer full a shit. Probably didn’t even get a peck, knowin’ LT. I bet ye did nothin’ back there, but stand in silence.”

You snicker at him, carefully adjusting yourself in your seat so you can squeeze your legs together to relieve the throbbing in such a way that it doesn’t draw attention. “Aww... Guess that’s only for us to know and for you to spend all your time worrying about, bitch. It’s gonna eat at you, isn’t it? Gonna lose sleep thinking about me and the lieutenant, hmm?” you pick back, which seems to get him off your case. 

“Ye wanna add anythin’ here?” Soap asks as he turns to the mask officer.

You risk a glance over your shoulder back at your superior, knowing that this could undo all your progress at regaining your composure, and you catch him completely lost in thought, not having heard a word that Soap just said. Quickly he recovers, clearing his throat. “What’re ya on about, Mactavish?” he questions back. 

“I asked if ye had anythin’ to add to her account of events,” Johnny chuckles. “Or are ye too stunned ta speak?”

The lieutenant shoots him a glare before pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, yeah?” he answers it like a threat as he flips open the pack and places a cig in between his fingers.

Soap holds up his hands innocently with palms facing out in agreement not to start any trouble. “Ye must a been terrible, lass,” Soap picks as he turns his attention back to you to keep the jovial atmosphere up. 

You slug him hard enough to make his chair squeak from the force before joining in the others laughter to disguise the heat still burning through your cheeks. Simon takes the opportunity to slip out unnoticed, though you let your eyes follow him one last time. It is a monumental task that he has to perform to actively put one foot in front of the other, to calculatedly focus his breathing to stay calm, and make it out of the door without anyone noticing that his composure is clearly broken. 

Once out of sight he hurriedly steps out into the cool night air and immediately rips up his mask as he lights his cigarette, taking a long, heavy drag off it as he leans up against the brick of the building. The nicotine tingles his throat and he hopes it’ll be enough of a distraction to stop the intense pounding in his chest. Breathing the smoke out in a weighty sigh he adjusts the crotch of his pants as they have suddenly become too tight for his comfort. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters under his breath as he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, desperately trying to focus on anything in a vain attempt to calm himself, but he already knows its no use.

The second his eyes are shut all he can think about is that kiss: he can still feel his arm around you, detect the ghost of your lips against his, sense the warmth of your breath in his mouth. He tries to push the delectable sensations from his mind, but they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and he knows it. 

Opening his eyes he stands back up off the wall with a need that compels him, making him move strategically so that he can peek through the door without being seen. Sneakily he stares back into the building, those brown eyes catching the sight of you smiling and laughing, those full lips making his blood pressure rise as he watches them move about as you speak, still red and swollen from being claimed. 

This is a problem, a big fucking problem. Now the only thing that that hardened military man can think about, instead of keeping his distance, is how he can recreate that exact scene with you again.

And maybe, just maybe, take it even further.

[iifishizzleii]

a 141!fanfic, except it’s told from the point of view of the reader’s best friend— you. like, actual you.

(pt. 2)

you, who sees neighbor!simon while walking the reader to their apartment late at night, catching simon as he steps out his apartment, locking the door and dressed to the nines in black and a balaclava, and you immediately drag reader into their apartment. you don’t even let them say hi to him because he’s a fucking behemoth dressed in “bitch what the FUCK” and with a hint of three “hell”s and four “naw”s. and there’s no way in hell you’re standing within ten feet of him without your mace. and when reader decides to bake him goodies anyways to be a ‘good neighbor’ despite your protests of “you think it’s cute until your fucking underwear is going missing when you do laundry and that guy is suddenly at every store and shop you go to”. (reader calls you an asshole for that, and you say you’re being realistic while holding back from putting cyanide in the brownie mix) and it ends up with neighbor!simon opening his door, eyes darting down to reader’s bashful smile and freshly baked goods, before widening a fraction when he sees you standing not too far behind with a metal bat behind your back.

you, who spots drunk!soap flirting with drunk reader at a bar and immediately whisks them away, arms wrapped around their sides like a mama bear carrying their cub. you ignore the pointed look the scottish man sends you, obviously annoyed at your interruption, so you flip him off and threatening to pin his dick to a wall if he so much as tries to follow you guys out. and when he persists, giving out his help to drag poor reader, intoxicated out of their mind, back to your car. so you start barking at him like how those girls would bark at unwanted attention from men in the tiktoks u see. and it shocks soap silent because one— he’s never been refused before. and two— he’s never been refused by a fucking bark. but he’s too flabbergasted (and drunk) to do much more than watch you toss reader into the passenger seat of your car and speed off. if he memorizes your license plate in that span of time, you don’t know that yet.

you, who’s visiting reader at the diner they work at. you’re sitting by yourself at one of the smaller booths— you don’t mind because you’re only there until reader gets off their shift so that you both can go hang out after. but, it’s five minutes before they can clock out when a man with skin the color of fresh soil and the roundest brown eyes knocks their drink on accident, a full pint of beer spraying all over the countertop. customer!gaz notices the spilt he caused, but only gives reader— who’d already changed out of uniform and had their bag slung over one shoulder— a glance and a quick smile before returning to his seemingly important conversation with a man in a boonie hat. and, that’s all it takes to get you rising from your seat and storming toward the scene, snagging a bunch of paper towels from your table and rushing over to help reader clean the mess up. you don’t care if you’re not supposed to— they’re off work, which means they shouldn’t be cleaning up after grown men who can’t spare their own mistakes a glance. and that’s exactly what you spit at both men, watching them both snap their heads at you as you loudly hiss, “you think you’re too fucking good to at least apologize for your mess? fucking dickeads”, then turning around to give reader a reassuring smile and helping finish in cleaning the mess. when customer!price begins to apologize and so does his companion, both looking equally apologetic, you only roll your eyes and guide reader out by the hand while also ignoring the way reader seemed to gush about both of the handsome men. as if they had conveniently forgotten about how it was their fault you both reeked of beer now.

you, who runs from hell and back to keep reader away from the 141 because they’re sketchy as fuck, even from a civilians standpoint. but, all that energy you put in redirecting their focus somewhere else, only puts it on an entirely unexpected target; you. like, actual you.

[tinygarbage]

December

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: simon has been in a foul mood all of december and you think he hates you

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, implied trauma, american reader lol, mentions of alcohol (reader is slightly buzzed), implications of familial trauma, no use of y/n, no physical description, not edited fully bc i am last minute on this (again), military inaccuracies bc im just a silly girl on a silly app :p, lmk if I missed anything :)

au: lol there’s not really a plot to this but i plan on building on this little friendship so if u like it lmk :) just something silly i wrote bc the holidays are a little tough for me :)

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

The two sargents and the captain of the one-four-one find themselves tasked with a new objective when December rolls around. Keep you from being alone with Ghost. Even stretching far enough to keep you away from situations that might cause an outburst from the broad Brit.

It all started one morning in the kitchen. You and Soap having your morning coffee. You being American and him being Scottish, you two were the outcasts. The only coffee drinkers.

      "We outta finish these quickly." Soap speaks, looking over a report meant to be turned into Price by noon.

     "Why's that?" You ask, completely oblivious to why you have to gulp down your steaming mug of coffee so early in the morning.

      "LT," Soap says as if it's an obvious thing.

      "What about him? He deals with it every other morning." You say with a shrug, sitting up in your chair as your boots are tied perfectly tight. Leaving it impossible for the laces to come undone during training.

       Soap looks at you as you take your first sip, wincing at how hot it was. You glance back at him, feeling his wide eyed stare. "What?" You ask, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze.

     "You're new. That's right." Soap says, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

      "Not that new. I've been here for 10 months already." You say defensively. You had just escaped their teasing nicknames and comments about how green you were. To the team, that was. Which, to be clear, never messed with their trust for your skill. They knew you were an important asset to the team. But what's friendship without a little teasing?

      "Yeah, but you're new to LT and December." Soap chuckles, gulping more of his coffee.

       "It's just another month," you say with a shrug.

      "Just finish your coffee, hen." Soap says, shaking his head as he finishes his own up. Rinsing it and the pot out in the sink.

The rest of the month is similar. The team still shielding you from Ghost. You see him obviously. While on the training grounds, during morning roll call, passing through the common room. But you hardly talk to him. Instead, overhearing stories about his mood towards new recruits being much worse than normal. Which was astonishing to hear because his mood towards them was typically foul.

You knew why the team was creating a barrier as soon as you heard about his mood. It's because to Ghost, you're just a new recruit. No matter how many times you cover him on a mission, or prove yourself and your strength time and time again. You're green. A baby deer stumbling to walk. And it drives him nuts. He constantly ignores your looks of admiration. Brushing aside your words of praise as you hold out your fist for a fist bump. A tradition strong among the rest of the guys and you.

Instead, he gives you disapproving stares. Degrading lectures in front of the new recruits when your golden retriever attitude gets too bubbly. Scoffs when you suggest strategies or try and help during mission briefings. Shoving shoulders when you stand in his way. And your least favorite, the mumbling. Little remarks and insults spoken under his breath. Hardly hidden from behind the mask. His harsh words still fall on your exceptional hearing, causing your nostrils to flare as you see red.

You'd spent nearly 10 months trying to prove yourself to him. And you nearly got him. His walls slowly coming down, brick by brick. He'd start making small jokes about the new recruits to you when partnered together. Pat your back firmly after a good shot. Acknowledge your presence when you both were in the kitchen or the common area.

Until bloody December rolls around. Again, you're thankful to the team for shielding you from his horrendous mood. But you're frustrated that you can't keep trying to weasel your way into getting him to like you. That all of your efforts have been thrown away and you'd have to restart as soon as you have full access to his side again.

It isn't until the end of December that you're alone with him for the first time in a month. It's late, just past midnight. He's sitting in the common room, a steaming cup of tea in front of him. You walk in late from a night out at the pub after gaining Price's approval to go out. You were just catching up with a couple friends who were studying abroad. Your heart feeling twice it's size after seeing a little piece of home.

It's dark. The only thing lighting up the room is the glow of his phone screen and the light from the door outside the common room. Which you held open as you stared at him like a deer in headlights. Not knowing what to say. Or do.

Slowly, you close the door. Making your way across the common room slowly. Your converse tapping the tile of the floor with each step. Vision slightly blurred from the pints you indulged in. You're almost past him, completely avoiding eye contact as you quietly walk past the couch he's spread out on.

"It's a bit late," He speaks up. His deep, gruff voice sending a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps forming on your skins despite your warm hoodie and worn jeans.

"Captain gave me a pass. For the Holidays." You speak carefully, eyes finally meeting his form in the dark.

The pale moonlight from the window across from him gives her a better view. His phone screen lighting up his face. He's wearing a black surgical mask, covering the lower half of his face. A black hoodie covers his upper half, the hood up to create a perfect shadow over what the mask wasn't covering. The only thing really visible to the eye was his eyes. His dark chocolate irises that scan over your casual appearance. Taking in the sight of you outside of uniform or athletic clothes. Instead seeing you in the dark jeans that hung from your hips. Hoodie and jacket baggy on your upper half.

      You look past him, seeing the time on the clock above the door way. The green electronic letters reading 00:13. It's now officially Christmas. Your eyes shift back to him, catching his intense stare. The air seems to run cold as he glared, his demeanor clearly bothered by your existence. You can't stop the small shiver that runs down your spine as you stare back. Blinking slowly as you try and keep your brain working.

     "Merry Christmas, Riley." You finally say, eyes dropping down to your scuffed converse.

     His head turns and he checks the clock. He turns back, "Merry Christmas." He says. His voice sounds...different. Tired? No...defeated...maybe.

      You smile politely, your sneaker twisting against the tile of the common room. You should walk away. Leave him to his own thoughts. Get into bed and sleep off the couple pints you threw down with friends. But you don't. Instead you stand awkwardly near the exit of the common rooms. Your brain busy with contradicting thoughts. Say something. Go to bed. Ask him about his mood. Shut up and go to bed. Sit next to him. Scream at him for always being an asshole. But you do nothing. Standing as still as a statue. Not daring to move, your muscles completely stone.

      "Don't break yourself, kid." He retorts, a small chuckle at his own humor.

      "Huh?" You ask absentmindedly, before it clicks in your head that you were standing still like an idiot. Thinking so loudly that Russia was probably disturbed. You awkwardly blurt out a response, "Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

     He raises a brow. Clearly unimpressed with your inability to act normal around him. "You want to say something?"

     "It's late," you say sheepishly, "Why are you still up?"

      His eyes drop down to his tea. You watch as he shifts slightly, revealing more of himself in the moonlight. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants, fitting tight against his thighs as he manspreads on the leather couch. Taking up space with his huge, muscular body.

      "Cant sleep." He says shortly. In his typical, gruff manner.

      "Something keeping you up?" You ask without thinking.

     You brace yourself for a snotty comment, or a silent glare as he pushes past you. Instead, you hear a huff of laughter. Or what was supposed to be laughter. You can never tell with the Lieutenant. "Isn't it always something?"

     "In our line of work, typically," You shrug, fingers tingling in the pockets of your jacket. "Do you," you pause, clearing your throat to sound more sure of yourself, "Do you need to talk about it?"

      His eyes meet yours. He says nothing for a few seconds. Letting your words hang in the air. "I just don't fancy the holidays."

     You nod, somehow smart enough in your tipsy state to realize exactly what he meant. It was more than the military. It was his life. "I get it." You say softly, "Do you mind if I sit with you? I need to gather myself before I try and stay quiet."

    "Go ahead.”

    Easier than you thought. You cross the common room carefully, sitting at the other end of the love seat. Immediately drawing your knees into your chest. Your arms wrap around your legs as you press them into your chest. Gaze falling to the window to see the brick building across the way. You're not exactly sure what to say, drawing in controlled breaths as you sit in silence. Fighting the urge to ask a million and one questions as your buzzed brain runs wild.

    "You've been avoiding me." He says suddenly. Ripping through the silence.

      You turn your head, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look at him. From this angle, you see the rest of his face. His dark scar poking through the surgical mask. His other scar curved above his thick eyebrow. His usual eye black is nowhere to be seen. Just dark circles formed under his eyes from exhaustion.  His dark eyes darting around. He seems..uneasy. Which is unlike him.

     "I haven't been," you say quickly. Both of you let the lie sit for a second before you eventually come clean. His intense eyes sending you straight into confession mode. "Ok, maybe I have been."

     "Why?"

     "Aren't you happy I'm not up your ass anymore?" You can't help but ask.

     "At first."

    "What changed?"

    "Maybe I don't mind having you around," he shrugs.

       You stare at him for a minute. Waiting for him to say he's just playing, and actually wants you to get out of his face. But the words never come. Instead, you look at the man next to you. His usual determined expression is no where to be seen. Replaced with a sheepish gaze as his eyes dart around everywhere but on you. He wasn't joking around. He liked your company.

      "The guys said to keep my distance," you reply. Figuring there was no reason to lie about it.

      "Because December." He finishes.

      "Pretty much," you say with a shaky exhale. Not exactly fond of the route this good take.

       "You didn't have too. I wouldn't have snapped at you," he says, voice soft. "I just don't do well around the holidays."

       "You don't have to explain yourself." You reply with an empathetic tone. "I'm sorry for avoiding you."

        He turns to you, finally making eye contact with you. Shifting slightly under your gaze. "Thank you."

       You smile, "You don't need to thank me. We all have our own shit. Just know I've got your back if you ever need me."

     His eyes soften in the moonlight, "And I've got yours."

    You smile, turning your head back forward. Knowing that if you continue to look at him you'll lose the small sense of control over your buzzed emotions. As you sit in a comfortable silence, you quickly realize you can't stay in the room any longer. His lingering cologne and his kind words creating a pool of fluttering butterflies in a cage. Locked right between your ribs.

    Carefully, you drop your legs. Your converse plant on the ground and you push yourself up, the room shaking as you regain full balance. With your hands stuffed back into your pockets, you walk towards the hallway filled with the small rooms the team occupies. Before you leave, you turn on your heel. Staring at him for a second as you try and form words. A lump of complicated feelings lodged in your throat. So instead of saying anything of importance. Or stating why you are fleeing the scene at a rapid pace after he said his first genuine non-work related thing. You give him a tight lipped smile.

    "Merry Christmas, Simon."

    "Merry Christmas, kid."

༝̩̩̥͙ ��༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹

part two :)

there u are :)) it’s small and uneventful but sometimes i really enjoy writing small moments like these :)

thank u for reading <3 happy holidays !

[lemonwrap]

You know these ridiculous doors in an apartment complex you might’ve seen on Twitter?

Imagine: an AU in which Soap and Ghost are neighbors…Except their doors are close. Very close.

They’re both in their late thirties or early forties. Ghost retired after sustaining an ACL tear, and Soap retired after suffering a back injury.

Simon is woken up early in the morning the sound of a bang and muffled cursing. He groans, gets out of bed, and opens his door just to be met face to face with a man.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” said man swears, taking a step back and dropping the box he’s holding.

“Good morning,” Simon says dryly, watching as the box thumps loudly to the ground. It’s about an inch away from his feet with how stupidly narrow the hallway is.

The man blinks at him. He’s awfully handsome, and with how they’re standing barely a foot apart, Simon can see how ridiculously blue his eyes are. He’s got a mohawk, some stubble, and an interesting scar on his chin. A new neighbor, Simon supposes.

“Morning,” the man says, bending down with a wince to pick up the box, but pauses. He hisses lightly with pain.

“You alright?” Simon asks.

“Busted up back,” the man replies. He’s got a Scottish accent, too. Charming. Simon silently picks up the box for him, careful not to bend his knee too much.

“Name’s Simon,” he says. He has no idea why he’s introducing himself, as he doesn’t talk much to anyone in the complex. The life of a retired veteran can be lonely, but Simon doesn’t always mind.

“John,” the man replies, flashing him a clearly grateful smile. Simon hands John the box, and when he turns around to go put the box in his new apartment, Simon goes back inside his own respective apartment and shuts the door. He’s not usually big on social interaction anyway.

He thinks that’s the last he’ll see of John, until he’s going out to run an errand and bumps right into a man when he’s turning around after locking his door. The two of them nearly fall, but Simon grabs the man’s wrist and steadies them.

His new neighbor, John, grins up at him. “Nice to see you again.”

Simon releases him, and John steps out of his space as much as he can. Simon swears his cheeks feel a little warm—maybe he’s coming down with something.

“How’s the back?” Simon asks gruffly. Why is he even asking? Jesus, he needs to get out of here.

“Shite as usual,” John says, shrugging.

“See you around,” Simon says abruptly, and he brushes past John.

The interactions don’t stop there. They regularly run into each other at various times, half of the time dropping groceries, bumping a funny bone against a door, or ending up much too close to each other. To his dismay, Simon realizes that he doesn’t mind his encounters with John, and he begins to look forward to them.

A few months after meeting John, it’s yet another day of the two of them accidentally crashing into each other. John drops his keys, and Simon nearly trips over John’s foot.

“Shit,” John laughs. “We’ve gottae stop meetin’ like this.”

Simon huffs out a laugh and bends down to pick up John’s keys, remembering his bad back. He just about slams his head into John’s chin when he stands up, but he doesn’t take much of a step back. He presses the keys into John’s hand, and John takes them with one of those bright smiles of his that Simon’s slowly grown to know.

“Come in for coffee?” John asks, and Simon can’t refuse.

[ghostofthemost141]

Serene

Chapter 5

Ch.1. Ch.2. Ch.3. Ch.4. Ch.5. Ch.6. Ch.7.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish xF!Reader

Word Count: 1,747

About: You were on vacation to the beach and you think you're about to die when you're caught in a riptide until an unlikely hero comes to your rescue. Precisely a Scottish man that bores a tail. And now, you two are secretly seeing each other.

!Warnings!: None

Italics means Third Person POV

Notes: Sorry if this one is short! Just wanted to get something out there. I hope everyone has a great holiday!

I could not believe what I was hearing right now. 

“What do you mean I am putting him in danger?” I snared, demanding answers. 

Simon just stood there, peering his eyes at you. He couldn’t believe that someone like Johnny was pursuing someone so naive but love makes you do stupid things. 

“He can’t be roaming around land. It’s what he wants to do to be with you.” Simon told you, with a hint of annoyance in his tone. 

Despite his intimidating physical appearance, he didn’t intimidate you at all. You stood your ground and you were going to stand up for yourself. 

“I understand being worried about your best friend and all, but I can reassure you that Johnny is perfectly fine and capable of protecting himself. I am sure he doesn’t need a babysitter to take care of him.” I told Simon. 

You hated being mean to someone you just met, let alone someone that was in close regard to Johnny, but it’s the fact that Simon was the one stalking both you and Johnny and how he is accusing you of putting Johnny in danger, is what fuels you to stand your ground. Upon hearing that Simon’s eyes went wide, but with anger. He felt his blood boiling with anger as you said that. How dare you? He thought. All he wanted was for Johnny to be safe in the deep gulf and not be on land, but you couldn’t understand that. Simon stepped closer to you, ready to be serious and be even more intimidating. 

“Aye! How’s it goin’ you two?” A familiar voice spoke out.

Both Simon and I turned to find Johnny approaching us. I almost stepped back, almost not recognizing him. He looked the exact same as he did except he has fucking legs. His legs were toned and muscular just like his upper half. He wore a white tank top with camo shorts, white socks, and black shoes. It was almost surreal to see him as human. Almost like I was longing to see him as a human. He looks so damn good as a human. Once Johnny got close to us, I huddled up close to him, feeling safe close to him and he immediately wrapped his arm around me, bringing me even closer to him. 

“We’re good. Just meeting your best buddy Simon for the first time. Right, Simon?” I say, staring deep into his dark brown eyes. 

“Yes. Yes we are.” Simon said with no hesitation, fixing his tone for Johnny. 

“That’s good, that’s good, I’m glad. Do we want to go grab some grub together?” Johnny suggested. 

Please say no, please say no, please say no, please say-

“No thanks. I’d love to but I’ve got important matters to deal with today.” Simon answered. 

Thank God. 

“Oh alrigh’ then. Well, it was good to see you Simon.” Johnny said. 

“You too, Simon.” 

Simon’s eyes go to pierce yours. Even though he was playing a nice act, you knew there was more to it. He was not happy with you. 

“It was nice to meet you, Dove.” 

“You too, Simon.” I said. 

With that, Simon immediately turned around, walked away and hurried out of the store, leaving you and Johnny alone. 

“Oh my god, Johnny, what are you?” 

You could hardly get the words out, seeing Johnny with legs. 

“What? Do I look differen?” Johnny jokes, acting shocked over his own legs. 

You chuckle at his antics. Johnny could feel that Simon scared you a little so of course he was trying to lighten the mood up a little. Simon didn’t mean to but he was awfully overprotective over Johnny. Simon could care less about ever going on land again while Johnny loves being on land. He loves people while Simon hates people, given his history with them. He understands what Simon went through but he secretly wishes he would give them a chance. Most importantly, he wishes Simon would give you a chance. 

“I mean, yeah you do. Why are you up on land today?” I asked. 

Johnny approached you closer, holding both of your hands in his and playfully swinging them side to side. 

“I wanted to see ya, bonnie. I couldn’t wait till dark out.” Johnny admitted to you. 

“I know, but I don’t want you to get in trouble with Simon.” I said. 

“Oh, don’t worry about him. He can go away n’ bile he’s head.” Johnny said. 

“Huh?” 

Johnny laughed at your reaction to his Scottish slang. 

“It means he can go fuck himself.” He explained. 

“Ah. I’ll be sure to use that.” 

“I would be honored.” Johnny said, smiling at you, making you chuckle out of being flustered. 

Johnny had this charm to him, a charm that always had you smiling ear to ear every time you were around him and you were blessed to have him in your life. 

“So, did ya have any plans today, Dove?” Johnny asked you. 

“Uh, I just finished grocery shopping for my uncle and aunt since I stayed home today from school.” I answer. 

“Why did you stay home?” 

You immediately regretted telling Johnny that, feeling his protective self coming out. 

“Cause..of my professor.” I answer. 

“I’m sorry, hen. Have you reported his arse yet?” 

“Not yet, but I am going to, I promise. I just needed a day to myself.” I reassured him. 

“Well, do you mind if I help ya finish your shoppin’? And hang out with you today?” Johnny asked. 

“No, Johnny. I don’t mind at all.” You say. 

Johnny leaned in, cupped your face, and gave you a peck on your lips, quick enough for being in public, but enough to show that he truly does love you. After the kiss, Johnny followed you around the grocery store as you finished the shopping list Ale gave you. You got to see more of his personality come out. Not only was he a charming, respectful guy, but he was also very goofy and kind hearted. He wouldn’t hesitate to make a goofy face at you to make you laugh and he would always help if someone needed something at the very top shelf. The more you saw Johnny’s personality come out, the more internal relief you felt. You knew that your uncle and aunt would like Johnny. You checked out and made yall’s way out of the grocery store, heading towards your car and Johnny helped you unload the groceries into your car. 

“Your folks home?” Johnny asked as you slammed the trunk shut. 

“No, they are both at work. I’ll tell them I am bringing a friend home.” I told him as I pulled out my phone to text Ale. 

“Can’t say boyfriend, aye?” Johnny jokes. 

“I mean, he would probably freak out if I said boyfriend without him meeting you first.” I mentioned. 

“Ah, so he’s protective?” 

“Very.” I say, sending the text, “although I didn’t mention it was Gem nor Pixie so he is gonna ask who it is for sure.” 

“Who are they?” Johnny asked. 

“My two closest friends. They are like sisters to me.” I said as I went to open the driver seat door but Johnny stopped me. 

“Let me drive.” He insisted. 

“Oh so you know how to drive?” I joke. 

“I’m half human, not a whole fish.” Johnny remarked. 

You rolled your eyes as you let Johnny get into the driver's seat and you got into the passenger seat, slipping on your seat belt and Johnny doing so as well. 

“Show me the way, hen.” 

~ 

“And this is my bedroom.” I say, hearing Johnny walk in behind me. 

Your bedroom was a typical adult woman's bedroom, but Johnny was in awe over your room. 

“Nice, nicee.” Johnny said with a smirk. 

“Really?” 

“‘eah of course, Dove. I wish I could have my own room.” Johnny mentioned. 

“I mean you could.” I say. 

“Yeah.” Johnny said as he sat down on my bed, bouncing onto it a little bit, “comfy.” 

You giggled as you sat down next to Johnny, leaning in close to him. 

“Is what Simon said true?” I ask, remembering what he said. 

“No, no, not at all, Dove. He just needs to chill the fuck out. I'm fine.” Johnny reassured me, even though the guilt still remained. 

“Well what does he mean by putting you in danger? Is there someone after you?” I ask, wrapping my arm around his. 

The size difference between us was almost comical. 

“He is just worried someone is gonna figure ou’ what I really am and try to kidnap meh and experiment on me.” Johnny told me. 

“Has that happened before?” 

“Not really. I've been spotted before by some folks but nobody cared enough to believe them. But that was a while back and in ‘nother state.” Johnny informed me. 

I nodded, taking in that information. I understand how Simon feels and I know that he wants the best for Johnny, but Johnny also should be able to live his life how he wants to live it. 

“When will ya folks be home?” Johnny asks. 

“Not for a couple of hours.” I said, glancing at my watch. 

Johnny smirked as he leaned in and planted a kiss on my lips, cupping my face as well. 

“You're so beautiful, lass.” Johnny cooed to you. You could feel your heart racing as you notice the tone change. It was intimate. Very intimate. 

“Johnny..” 

You hardly had any words as Johnny's hands started wandering all over your body. You let him, trusting him entirely as you let yourself be vulnerable to him. He was feeling you for the first time, as if this was the first time in a long time that he was intimate with someone. He then held your chin with his fingers, making you look up at him. 

“Will you let me be yours?” 

“Yes.” 

You didn't hesitate at all to answer. Johnny was happy to hear your answer as he leaned in, grazing his tongue over your lips. You let him in, softly moaning at his action as his hands locked around your hips, with your hands on your neck. You could feel the tension in the air get hotter and hotter and you never wanted this to end. You wanted it to go further so you- 

“Estrella!! I'm home, where are-” 

“Fucking Jesus.” 

You mumble as your Uncle barged into your room, seeing the current scene unfolding in front of his eyes. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[meowmeowriley]

Your Oh, Brother fic is frankly, inspired, and I can't help but think of another angle of how this could have gone down, a universe where Johnny and Simon are a bit more forthcoming with their siblings. As in, Johnny phones Erin every week and spends a not-inconsiderable portion of that time bitching about Ghost and the not-so-teeny crush he has on the man. But it's all in Scots Gaelic. So Soap gets comfortable, picking up the phone wherever, whenever to talk about his crush, no matter who's around. He has waxed poetic about the curve of Ghost's ass all while that very ass was seated right next to him. That would all be fine and dandy, except Simon has been (much more discreetly) confiding his own crush to Tommy, who told him that he should try and learn Scots to connect more with Soap. And Ghost is nothing if not a good student, so before long. he. understands. everything. Not sure how the reveal would go but I'm sure Soap will go apeshit and Erin + Tommy will laugh their asses off

Sorry for the super late reply! Thank you for reading and loving Oh, Brother so much 🥰 This is a brilliant idea!

Okay but brotherly bonding time between Simon and Tommy as they both enroll in an online Scottish Gaelic course, and then, when their families are on base for a Mandatory Fun Day (a party, like a BBQ hosted and sponsored by a unit) the MacTavish's openly talk about Ghost in Scots, not knowing both Riley boys know exactly what they're saying. You might be onto something anon... This is going on my TBW list ❤ I'm not sure if it'll be a ficlet, or a longer one-shot yet, but we shall see!

[whiskeynwriting]

heyyyy idk if you take requests but if you do, can i request something with Ghost and Soap and female reader? she’s never done anything with either of them and then one time they get shipped off all three of them over seas and something spicy happens?:::)))) rolling my chair into oblivion byeeeee

THIS IS SO SEXYYYYY. Ugh.

Simon Says

Simon “Ghost” Riley x John “Soap” McTavish x Female Reader

◆

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Mentions of reader’s hair, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting, slapping (just one tiny face tap), bisexuality, polyamory, threesome activities, sub/dom dynamics, brief male masturbation, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, anal sex, m|m and f|m sex

◆

A/N: Omg, this is the first time I've EVER written m|m sex, and the first time I've EVER written a threesome. I can't handle it. Anon, thank you for this.

Alsssooooo, we have some Scottish Gaelic in here for Soap! AAHHH I’m loving it. The translations are in parenthesis after the words are used, of course &lt;3

◆

Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

To say you’re out of your element here would be an understatement. Oftentimes, traveling out of the country was a breeze for you. Things weren’t all that different, give or take. But going overseas was an entirely different thing. Comparing Brazil to London? There wasn’t anything you could lean on for comfort here; nothing reminded you of home. Except for them.

After joining the force, you found yourself gravitating toward the two of them. After all, Simon grew up in the same area as you. It’s not like the two of you ever met before finding each other here, but knowing he’s tied to your home somehow ties him to you. And Johnny, his parents live just down the road from your grandparent’s home. How the two of you never met before this is beyond you. Regardless, you’re thankful to know them now. It’s like one way or another, you were meant to find each other. 

But for some reason, you can’t find them right now. Simon and Johnny were always close, so much so that you were shocked they welcomed you into their friendship so quickly. Usually though, the three of you convened after a mission. Whether it was in the barracks at the base or a break room in the safe house, you always relaxed afterward together. So, where are they now? 

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

“Oh, sorry Cap.” Immediately, you straighten a bit, addressing Price as he appears off to your right. “Just um, checking out the new base… I guess.”

“New,” He chuckles, reminding you, “Won’t be new for much longer. We’ve got a week.” 

All you do is smile, giving him a curt nod. “Sir.” 

Price has always been easy to avoid. Just straighten your back and say what he wants to hear, and he’ll be out of your hair. Which is just what happens. Right after your response, he’s nodding, turning to walk out of sight. 

Relaxing your posture, you trudge on, stepping quietly down the long and empty halls. The makeshift barracks are empty, most of the team taking a break in the kitchen. Which is what originally led your search. But now, a sound seems to direct your steps. 

“Quiet, now.”

“Simon?” Whispering, you furrow your brows, taking a step toward a side door. 

Bewildered, you press your hand to the knob, inching the door open to peer inside. It seems to be a storage room of sorts, a small warehouse, almost. The lights are off, but you can still see the shelves stacked high with boxes and files. You wonder what they’re for. But all too quickly, they become the last thing on your mind. 

In the dim light of the room, just barely, you can make out the figures of the men you’d been searching for. Both tall, much taller than you, and bulky, too. But it’s clear that one is much bigger than the other, and wearing a mask. Simon. 

“Simon?” Walking in, you push the door open further, calling out for him “Oh.”

Stopping in your tracks, your jaw drops, not meeting Simon’s eyes but Johnny’s. Deep blue with his irises blown wide, half of his face covered by Ghost’s skull. But then, they’re fluttering shut, a heated breath shoving its way out of his chest. A moan. 

“S-Simon,”

“Yeah,” He groans, but he doesn’t let go. “I see her, Johnny.” 

He’s pushed Soap up against the wall, one hand on his throat to keep him steady. And you’ve never seen him handle Johnny like that but that’s not the shocking part. What’s shocking is the sight of Ghost’s free hand palming the captain’s crotch. And even though he’s acknowledged your appearance, he hasn’t stopped. 

Turning, Ghost glances over his shoulder at you, addressing you by name. “How’re you?” He asks, completely nonchalant. 

“I, um…” Releasing a flustered chuckle, you sigh, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Was… looking for you. Both of you.”

“Figured you would,” He returns in that gruff voice, unapologetically turning back to his companion. “Didn’t think you’d find us, though.” 

His mask is pulled up above his mouth, nothing you haven’t before seen. But now, his bare mouth is on Johnny’s, kissing him sloppily. Your face burns at the sight, a small gasp slipping from your lips. You expected him to stop, to move away and maybe say something. Not do… that. 

“Simon,” Soap moans again, shaky hand reaching for his hip. He’s overwhelmed, very clearly.

“You, you didn’t want me to? To find you?” The entire situation is making you feel antsy and embarrassed but above it all, you’re hurt by Simon’s words. You always find each other after a mission. 

By now, Soap’s hands are on Simon’s neck and waist, pulling him further in. They’re both in plain jeans, Soap in a short black sleeve and Ghost in that sexy ass light-gray fleece. And if you were being honest, you’ve always thought about them this way. Just because they were your friends didn’t mean they weren’t hot. But never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined them like this. 

Now, Ghost does stop, laughing at your words. “Sure we did.” Smacking his lips, he lowers his head, finding Johnny’s neck. “We love your company.” 

“Well, I don’t know if it’s much help right now…” Backing away, your body finally catches up with your brain. 

“You never know.” Comes his immediate response, rutting his hips into Johnny’s. Jesus, he’s so brazen. Every little movement is catching you offgaurd, making you stumble and stutter. “What d’you think, Johnny? Huh?”

“Oh,” And you’ve never seen Soap so submissive. 

“Think she’d wanna join in?” 

At that, your eyes widen. Everything in your body is on fire from seeing them like this. You never expected it, in general, and you definitely never expected to like it. Nibbling on your lower lip, you shift your stance, rubbing your thighs against each other a bit. 

“C-Close the door,” Soap suddenly begs, motioning towards it. “No one,” He gulps, feeling Ghost’s lips suction to his neck. “No one needs to see. Other than you.”

“Johnny?” You question, not understanding his wording. 

“He wants you here.” Ghost answers for him, squeezing his throat a little harder. And then, Simon’s eyes are flashing toward you. “And so do I.” 

“Would you?” Johnny then asks, whimpering helplessly when Ghost shifts his hips over his again. 

Glancing down, your eyes follow Soap’s gesture, his now outstretched arm. He’s reaching for you. It’s only then that the moment begins to feel… soft. Inviting, even. 

“Really?” You’re already stepping toward them, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. He’s calling out to you, he wants you. 

“Yes.” 

Before you can even register what’s happening, the hand intertwined with yours leaves, lifting to cup your face and bring you in. 

“Johnny…” He brings you close to his face, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “I, I never knew…”

“That we did this?” Ghost finishes for you, huffing out a short laugh. “No one does.”

“No one should.” That Scottish accent adds, returning your eyes to him. “Kiss me.”

“What?” Even though you’re less than a hair’s breadth away from his lips, you’re surprised he asked. He’s never asked. Nothing sexual has ever happened between you and them.

“We’ve thought about this, love.” Simon chimes in, still marking Soap’s neck while he groans. “Thought about you.” 

You’re not sure what to do, not at all, but you know one thing for certain - you’re glad Simon is taking the lead. 

“You wanna be here with us, hm?” Now, he’s removed himself from Soap’s neck, addressing you directly. “You want us like I want him? Like he wants me?”

His words force your heart to lurch into your throat, the pound of your pulse deafening in your ears. Has he noticed? Have they both? Have they seen the way you stare? The way your irises widen, the way you swallow when you see them shirtless? The way your body eases into them when you’re given a hug, the way you react to their touch? 

“A simple yes or no.” Ghost reminds you, pulling you back to the present. “It won’t affect us, love, the three of us. We’ll always be mates, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nods, looking from Ghost and then to you. His hand is still on your face, thumb swiping gently over the apple of your cheek. He finds you so breathtakingly beautiful. They both do. 

The fact that they’re reassuring you of this shows you just how much they care, just how deeply they trust you. They’ve been your best friends for months now, you’ve been able to count on them for anything. Emotionally and physically, they’ve always been there, always had your back. And you’ve had theirs, but… not to this extent. Maybe now is the time to change that. 

“I, I do.” Nodding, you lick your lips nervously before swallowing. “I…” 

Gently, Johnny’s hand guides you back toward his face, angling himself downward slightly so he can connect with you. And Ghost stays perfectly still while he does it, wanting to watch your first embrace. 

Leaning into his hold, you meet him halfway, just barely lifting yourself onto your tippy toes. Your hands feel awkward at your sides, so you reach out toward your captain. Immediately, though, Simon is catching your right hand and holding it tightly as he watches your lips connect. 

As soon as your lips meet, Johnny’s moaning against you, hand curling around to hold the back of your head. And you all but melt into him, the hand not being held by Ghost securing to Johnny’s hip. 

“Oh…” Simon sighs, leaning back in to mouth at Soap’s neck. “That’s it, pet.” 

Just like that, the gradual roll of Ghost’s hips picks up again, each of your mouths paying attention to Johnny. With his hand on your neck, he guides the kiss, leaning in as he mouths at your lips. 

“S-Shit,” He’s stuttering, feeling Simon’s full erection weighing heavy against the fabric of his jeans. You take this opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth, grinning at the noise it drags out of him. 

“I need more, Johnny.” Simon begs, that gruff voice sending a shiver down your spine. 

A small, metallic noise draws your attention away from him, glancing down and witnessing the quick movements of Ghost’s hand. He’s undoing Soap’s belt, and in record time, might you add. Before you can even blink, he’s reaching in and freeing Johnny from the confines of his pants. 

“That’s better.” He sighs, fisting Soap’s length and giving long, slow pumps, all the way down to the base. 

“Fuck me.” Johnny’s head drops back, eyes shutting as he relishes in the feeling. 

At first, you don’t know what to say, what to even think. Thoughts jumble through your mind, feeling both shocked and flustered and excited. He’s so much bigger than you expected; he’s cut and slightly curved, and neatly trimmed, too. 

“Johnny…” It comes out as an airy breath, your own hand now reaching for him. 

Timidly, your fingertips dance along his scrotum, and Ghost smiles at this.  

“Why don’t you take over, love?” Glancing up, you lock eyes with him as he says, “Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“That’s a good pet…” Simon responds, almost immediately. And it mesmerizes you. 

Releasing Soap of his hold, Ghost’s hand finds the back of your head, hurriedly bringing you into him. Smashing his lips to yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, your soft moan echoing in the back of Ghost’s throat. 

“Fuck,” Lifting his head, Soap stares at the sight in front of him. He chokes slightly when he feels your hand replace Simon’s, gripping him firmly while giving him the same languid strokes. 

“I am loving this,” He expresses, licking his lower lip. “Kiss him like you did me… that’s right…” 

While you’re shoving your tongue into Ghost’s mouth, feeling his thick fingers curl into your hair, Johnny leans in to kiss your face. It’s like he can’t help himself. It’s hurried and frenzied, his lips moving across your cheek and jaw. 

“Johnny,” He suddenly barks, ripping himself away from you. “Get on your knees for me.” 

Staring into Soap’s eyes, the captain does what he’s told, the two of you watching as Ghost leans back to undo his belt. 

Internally, you’re screaming. This is all moving so quickly, but you have absolutely no reservations when it comes to this. None, none at all. 

With Johnny’s movement, you’re forced to let go of him, watching as he shuffles back against the wall. Without either one of them saying another word, Ghost is guiding his cock into Soap’s waiting mouth. Instantly, his lips form a breathless smile, feeling the wetness of Johnny’s tongue slide over his tip. 

“Take it.” He mumbles, their eyes locked as Soap does just that. 

Shifting his hips forward, Simon releases a breathy chuckle, giving his companion’s mouth an array of shallow thrusts. And then he’s glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye, jerking his head to the side. 

“Get over here, princess.”

Jesus, you thought he’d never ask. 

It’s astonishing just how easy it is for this to happen, for you to follow his instructions. Because you do. Obeying his word, you kneel beside the captain, knees feeling like jelly as you move. Your entire body is nearly numb from excitement, and they’ve barely even touched you. 

Eyes widened, you stay on your knees beside your comrade, swallowing your nerves. “How… how many times have you…”

“More times than I can count.” Simon grunts, fingers curling into the stripe of hair at the top of Soap’s head. “You feel like givin’ it a go?” He then asks, smirking when your pretty eyes flicker up to his. 

“Yes.” It’s small and quiet, the word as it comes out. And Simon is happy with it. 

Pulling away from Soap’s mouth, they each release a harsh grunt. When Simon reaches for you, he’s much kinder. He doesn’t tangle his fingers into your hair just yet, he doesn’t know how much you can take.

“Come here, sweetheart.” Simon coos, his voice so soft and loving. Johnny remembers when he was first like that, before they got comfortable with each other. Comfortable enough to be rough. 

“That’s it…” That sweet voice is in your ear the entire time his attention is on you, his hand guiding you closer to him. 

With doe-like eyes, Soap watches you take in Simon’s cock just an inch away from his face. Your lips open just enough to envelope his uncut tip, tongue sliding beneath the girth of him. He’s bigger than Johnny, much bigger, and not so well-trimmed. In fact, he has a bush at his base. 

“Yeah, just like that.” Nodding slowly, both of Ghost’s hands find your face, pulling you gently onto him. 

Leaning with his movements, you soon find your mouth stuffed of him, his low moans echoing throughout the quiet space. Again, Johnny can’t help himself. Moving forward, he presses his cheek to yours, leaning down to run his tongue over Simon’s balls. And collectively, you moan, your sound vibrating through the lieutenant's cock.

“Fuckin’ hell Johnny,” Simon grunts, briefly baring his teeth at the feeling. “Oh, love…” Naturally, and without instruction, you move your mouth along the length of him, sucking slowly, tenderly. “That’s so good, princess…” 

He doesn’t even have to move his hips, not when both of your mouths are on him like this. Right now, all of his focus is going into keeping his legs sturdy, keeping himself standing. 

“And you know what you are, Johnny?” 

With his own mouth full, all he can mumble is, “Hm?” And you don’t know it yet, but he’s asking for Simon’s attention, begging for his praise. 

With those blue eyes lifting, searching for Simon’s dark gaze, he whines when his partner says, “You’re a good boy.” 

Even though the praise isn’t directed at you, you whine all the same. And Soap does, too, sucking more of Simon’s tender flesh between his lips while he sighs.

“I quite like the idea of this,” Simon chuckles breathily, unable to tear his gaze away from sight beneath him. “Havin’ myself two pets.”

And you have to admit, you like the sound of that, too.

Reaching up, your hands find the thick meat of Simon’s thighs, massaging and clawing them as you continue to take him. Willingly, you urge him down your throat, your quick and airy breaths making you feel all fuzzy. Limply, you lean on Johnny, his sturdy body offering you a hint of support. 

“Look at you, takin’ me all the way.” It actually impresses Simon. It took Soap a while to work up to that. “You’re just full of surprises.” 

With one hand, he strokes Johnny’s head, the fingers of his other combing through your hair. His pretty pets. 

Swiping his tongue hungrily across Simon’s scrotum, Soap’s tongue occasionally dances across your lips, and he savors it. He even dedicates a moment to running his tongue along the edges of your mouth while it’s still full of Simon’s dick. 

“Ugh,” Simon suddenly expresses, a thick groan escaping him. “Jesus, Johnny.” 

“Sir?” Johnny returns, his voice timid and light. And more than ever before, it sets your body alight. You’ve never heard him speak this way. 

“Up here,” Simon demands, chest rising and falling quickly. “On your feet with me.” 

Whimpering quietly, you watch him stand. You liked having his company. 

With firm movements, Simon spins his partner around. “Put your hands on the wall.” And even though he just gave him a command, he helps him do it. With his hands on Johnny’s wrists, he places them on the sturdy concrete in front of him, sighing happily once he’s done it. “Yeah… that’s right.”

And while he’s talking to Johnny, you’re still on your knees, mouth endlessly pleasuring him. Before either of you can even take a moment to think, Ghost’s hand is on Johnny’s jaw, forcing him to look down at you. 

“What d’you think about fuckin’ her mouth, Johnny?” Now, he starts to move his hips, thrusting himself down your throat at a much harsher pace. 

Unexpectedly, you whine, nodding beneath the two men. And Soap’s eyes go wide when he sees this. Removing yourself from Simon, you sigh, trying to regain some semblance of your composure. While watching you shuffle before him, placing yourself perfectly between his legs, Soap nods. It’s like he can’t bring himself to look away, like he can’t comprehend the acts you’re all performing. 

“Beautiful…” Soap murmurs, reaching down to cup your jaw gently. Sliding his thumb over your bottom lip, he watches them part so he can slide it in. “That’s beautiful, lass.” 

 Slowly, Simon retracts his hips, pulling himself out of your mouth. The sound produced from the act is wet, almost sticky. 

“She’s lubed it up quite nicely for you.” Ghost whispers into his ear, kissing the lobe. Shifting his feet, he positions himself behind Johnny, hands holding firm on his hips. 

Lowering one hand, he slides it down to Soap’s ass, fingers prying at the muscular flesh. With one finger, he teases Johnny’s hole, rubbing and just barely poking it. And the whimper that comes from Johnny is euphoric, feeling your mouth wrap around him while Simon plays with his ass. 

Leaning back, you ask, “Is this alright?”

Your question prompts his attention to return to you, all while feeling Simon slide a finger into him from behind. Nodding, Soap swallows thickly, entranced by the sight of his cock resting on your soft lips.

“That’s more than alright.” He answers, one hand falling to the back of your head. “That’s just… that’s so good.” And then he’s giving you one, firm nod. “Do it again.” 

While holding his gaze, you slide the length of him over your tongue until he’s entirely in your mouth. Sitting still for a moment, you hollow your cheeks, sucking on him. 

“Oh…”

“You ready for me?” Ghost then asks, one hand coming up to hold his throat, just like before. 

“Fuck…”

Pumping his finger in a handful of times, Simon adds another, stretching the tight ring of muscles he’s become far too familiar with. The hand not on the back of your head lays palm-flat against the wall, Johnny leaning in to press his forehead to the cool concrete. 

He’s taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Yeah.” 

Moving in sync with Simon, you slide Johnny into your throat in the same motion as the lieutenant slides between his partner’s cheeks. And it makes him fucking choke. Already, Soap’s legs are shaking, and the gentle scratch of your nails down his thighs isn’t helping.

“How’s she feel, Johnny?” Ghost is kissing Soap’s neck, his small whimpers and moans making Simon throb. 

Pulling himself back, Simon returns to the warm confines of his friend, building a gradual pace. And you do the same, attempting to match it. Only a few thrusts in, and Soap is an absolute mess, moaning freely with his lips parted, eyes furrowed shut as he takes it. From the sensation of it all, he’s barely even able to thrust into your mouth. But that’s alright, Simon’s thrusts are so heady that they do most of the work, repeatedly sliding Soap down your throat. 

Angrily, Simon snaps his hips against Johnny’s ass, grinding in deep. And it forces an almost painful cry from the captain. “I asked you a question, love.”

Simon was always a dominant man; with his size and demeanor, how could he not be? But seeing him in this situation has that notion growing tenfold. He’s clearly the one in charge, the one who calls the shots between the two of them. And you wish so badly to be beneath him. 

The grip Ghost has on Johnny’s throat tightens, his hips picking up their pace. His pelvis slaps against the meat of Soap’s backside, forcing him deeper into your mouth every time. Reaching out, your hands slide over Johnny’s thighs. Curling around, they find the flexing muscles of Simon’s backside, scratching into the surface before you squeeze. 

“S-So,” He’s trembling, stuttering, eyes opening to stare down at you. Your lips are gliding so smoothly along his shaft, your throat sucking him down with every thrust. “So good.”

“Yeah?” Ghost grins, hearing his lover’s shaky voice. “She felt pretty good around me, too.” 

Ghost’s indirect praise makes you moan, the vibrations shivering through Soap’s cock and hips. 

“F-Fuck me, I’m gonna - Simon.” Soap is whining and groaning, reaching around to hold the back of Ghost’s head while he sucks on the side of his neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

“No you’re not.” He replies nonchalantly, pulling out of his comrade with a groan. And it successfully cuts off Johnny’s high. 

He whimpers quietly, almost pathetically, from the loss, dropping his head down. But Ghost presses his back to Soap, leaning down to place his chin on Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Look at me,” But Soap almost can’t, because you’ve hollowed your cheeks and are drooling down his shaft. “I said look at me.” With the force of his hand, Simon makes Johnny turn to look him in the eyes. 

“You can cum after I fuck our new play thing.” Without looking down, Simon drops a hand, running his fingers through your hair as he says it. An affectionate, possessive, gesture. 

“Alright?” Reaching down, he uses his dominant hand to gently cup Soap’s balls. It makes his body jolt, a helpless mewl slipping from his mouth. 

And then Simon’s looking down at you, giving you a nod. “Hey, gorgeous.” He calls, the hand on Soap’s balls reaching out to give your cheek a soft little smack. “Your turn. Eyes up here.” 

Immediately, your eyes are on him, your mouth still stuffed full. 

“You want me to fuck you? Huh? Wanna know what it feels like?” 

“Mhm,” Nodding rapidly, you slide your tongue along the underside of Johnny’s cock, listening to his airy moan. 

“Then,” Ghost says, deep voice rumbling as his fingers tighten in your air. “Get off.”

Pulling your head in the opposite direction while pulling Johnny back forces you to let him go, both of them watching as you pant and gasp. 

“You liked that?” Tilting his head, Simon grins.

Huffing out an array of heavy breaths, you nod. “Yes.” 

“Ah,” Simon tuts happily, reaching down to your pretty face. “That’s a good girl.” 

“Oh,” 

“You like that too, huh?”

“Yes, Simon.” 

“Why don’t you lay down for me then? And show me how good you can be.” 

He’s never spoken to you like this before, and why would he? But after tonight, you’re hoping he does again. And again, and again.

Leaning back, you find yourself scrambling onto your backside and palms, shifting down to the ground. You don’t even care that it’s dusty and who knows what could have trudged through here. It’s worth it when Simon says, “I love how well you listen to me.” 

“Baby,” It comes out before you can stop it, before you can even realize it. And it’s said as Simon is crouching down, moving to cover your body with his own. 

You’re reaching for him, and it’s so easy to see just how captivated you are by him. “You’ve thought of me.” He states, grinning. 

Situating himself over your body, you can hear Johnny’s pants beside you. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bend down, but right now, all you’re focusing on is him. Ghost. 

“Yes.” Hands finding either side of his face, you bring him in, and he doesn’t reject it. 

Passionately, his mouth meets your own, lips just barely colliding before your tongues do. He licks into you, one hand wiggling beneath the back of your head so he can hold you. 

 “I want you.” Simon growls against your lips, both his breath and pulse quickening. “I want you, pet.”

“I want you.” Your body curls upwards toward him, feeling an undeniable pull. Diving in, you slide your tongue across his, listening to his harsh and heated moan. 

“Johnny,” Ghost mumbles against your lips. “Get over here.” And just like that, he’s at Simon’s side. 

“You always do what he says?” You tease, grinning. And Soap fucking blushes.

“Whatever Simon says.” He responds, looking deeply into his partner’s eyes. And that fills Ghost’s heart with pride. 

“Whatever Simon says…” You repeat, staring up at him, too.

Lifting your hands, your fingers find the edge of his fleece, pulling impatiently on him. Chuckling, he glances down at you, licking his lower lip before speaking to Johnny. 

“Want you on top of her.” He says, eyes now entirely on you. “Come fuck that pretty face.” 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

Instantly, he’s climbing over you, positioning his pelvis directly above your face. Indirectly, he shoves his ass into Simon’s, but it’s not like he minds. Bending forward, he sinks his teeth into the thick muscle of Soap’s upper thigh, sucking a mark onto his skin. 

“There you go, Johnny.” Reaching forward, Ghost lays a hand over Soap’s back, guiding him further down. “Bend over… just like that.” 

Still hanging heavy between his legs, you take Soap back into your mouth, tongue reaching for his tip. Once it’s past your lips, you suck gently on it, prompting a flurry of small hip movements from the captain. His palms are flat on the ground on either side of your head, and while you’re entirely caught up in Johnny’s attention, Ghost is tearing it away all too soon. 

Broad hands find your calves, sliding up to find the waistband of your pants. He takes his time in undressing you, and finds himself wishing the three of you were elsewhere, somewhere you could be naked completely. Somewhere you could give all of yourself to him. 

“Fucking - ngh, you suck it so good.” Johnny’s sweating and babbling nonsense, thrusting into your mouth at a much different pace than before. It’s quicker, shallower, and you know he has to be close. “Keep doin’ that. Oh, Christ, keep sliding your tongue around.” 

You’re so distracted by Johnny that you barely even register when Ghost slides your pants off. In one swipe, your panties are gone, too, leaving you exposed to him. Instinctually, you spread your legs wider, welcoming him in.

Glancing up, Ghost finds himself throbbing at the sight of Soap’s flexing ass as he continually ruts into your mouth. With one hand, he’s pawing at his cheek, giving it a firm smack that makes Johnny’s hips stutter. 

“How about I fuck your ass, sweetheart?” Ghost asks, voice low and seductive. “I don’t have a condom with me right now…” Broad hands find your outer thighs, caressing you. “Maybe next time I can feel your sweet little pussy…” 

It comes as a shock, a jolt to your system, when he slides a finger down the seam of your sex. You want so desperately to moan, but with the way Johnny’s filling your throat right now, you can’t. But Johnny sees your reaction, he sees how your eyes roll back.

“Oh, she likes that, L’t.” 

“Does she?” Simon counters, giving your inner thigh a small smack. The motion sends a tingle through your body, your lungs attempting to fill with staggering gulps of air. 

Leaning back on his heels, Ghost’s hands spread your cheeks, eyes closely inspecting you. “Has anyone else ever been here, love? Anyone else ever fucked your ass?” 

When all he’s met with are sloppy gurgles, he gives Soap’s backside a light slap. “Back up, Johnny. Lemme hear her talk.”

“No,” It comes out as a gasped groan, the only word you can get out before Soap is diving back in. 

“Oh…” Simon sighs, eyes returning to your fluttering holes. “I like firsts.” 

Listening closely, you can just barely make out the sound of suction, the sound of Simon’s finger in his own mouth.   

“I’ll be gentle, pet.” He promises, damp finger now prodding at your tight ring. “I’ll make it good…” Releasing a low, muted sigh, he then promises in a whisper, “I’ll make it so good you can’t even breathe.”

You have no doubt that he’ll fulfill that promise, but if you’re being honest, you’re already feeling that way. Taking Soap down your throat is no easy task, and coupling that with Simon’s hands on your body is making you see fucking stars. 

Using his left hand, he makes sure to keep his dominant one clean. Once you’ve taken his entire pointer finger, his right hand finds its way to your sex, rubbing you tenderly. And the passionate moan you release gives him all the consent he needs.

Leaning in, he spits forcefully onto your fluttering lips, sliding his first two fingers through it. He uses the wetness of it to rub your clit, circling it slowly, gently, the stimulation allowing you to take in another one of his digits. 

“Look at that… opening up so nicely, aren’t we?”

Your hands have been sliding around Johnny’s thighs, fingers curling as you hold onto him. Nodding, you’re able to manage a moan before he’s plunging back in. 

“Think she can take three?”

“I know she can.” Johnny responds instantly.

Spitting again, Simon watches his saliva drip down your sex, sliding over the two fingers he’s stuffed into your ass. Retracting them halfway, he allows the wentess to coat his digits before returning them to your warmth, pumping them into you at a slightly quicker rate. 

“Simon,” Gasping, you push Johnny’s hips away from your face. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He’s furrowing his brows, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

“I just, I want to feel you.” Swallowing heavily, you beg, “Please just fuck me. Please.”

While he’s out of your mouth, Johnny uses a spare hand to jerk himself off, keeping his eyes on you. “Fuck,” Lifting the other, he uses it to palm at your covered chest. “Wish we could see your tits right now, babe.”

“Maybe we’ll get to.” Simon suggests, removing his fingers from your ass. Leaning forward, he holds his palm out to Johnny, nonverbally asking for his spit. Which he gives. 

“Oh my god,” Groaning, you do your best to catch your breath while the boys interact. “I love this.”

“You and me both.” Johnny returns, moving a hand to your head to hold you steady. Slowly, he glides over your tongue, bottoming out in your mouth once again. “She takes it so well…”

“I know she does.” 

Situating himself between your legs, Simon holds the thickness of his shaft in one hand, rubbing the tip over your tightest entrance. His dominant hand hasn’t left your clit, his fingers rubbing sensual and sloppy circles over it.

“This might hurt a pinch, love.” 

All you do is lift your hips toward him, running your tongue along Soap’s tip. But he’s right, it does hurt. The slight sting of his bulbous tip entering you is… different, entirely new. The continuous stimulation on the peak of your sex helps, though. That along with Johnny as a distraction. 

When Ghost is halfway in, he prompts Johnny to take a break, allowing you a breath. Rubbing your thighs, that breathy voice asks you, “How’s that, princess?”

“A lot.”

Now, Soap is answering. “I know.” His hands find your face, cupping and stroking you softly. “It’s so much, isn’t it, lass?”

“Yes.” While he’s speaking to you, Simon continues sliding in. 

Sighing, Soap swipes his thumb gently over your cheek. “Sweet cailin…” (Girl)

“Mm,” You whine sharply at the feeling of Simon bottoming out inside you, his thighs resting flush against your cheeks. His free hand is on your hip, holding you steady with his thumbs swiping over your skin.

“There we go,” Shuffling closer, he grinds into you, holding you tightly against him. “Oh, Christ…”

Pulsing his fingers upward, he finds your g-spot, caressing it firmly. And the moan it tears from your chest sounds ungodly, Soap quick to cut it short with his cock. 

Steadily, they pump themselves into you, Simon’s fingers working just as hard, too. His thumb just barely flicks the nub of your clit while his hips shift right up against you. And even though he’s going relatively slow, the groans coming from him are guttural and deep, heavy grunts alongside every push and shove of his fingers and length. With every passing second, he’s growing more ravenous, more insatiable. The slick of your cunt drips down onto his length as it repeatedly dives into the space between your cheeks, aiding in his smooth slides. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight back here…” Already sweating, he feels his muscles shake, wanting to have more of you and Johnny but not knowing how to do it. “Would love to warm you up. Stretch you out. Oh…” Leaning forward, Ghost presses his forehead to his lover’s back, giving his skin a sweet kiss. “Would you let me do that, sweetheart? Would you let me do this again?”

Again, a muffled noise is all you can muster around Soap’s length. But he knows you want it, they both know you’ll want this again. 

Johnny’s motions directly contradict that of his bigger, stronger lover’s. He’s giving your mouth tender and sensual thrusts, sliding all the way in until the head is prodding at the back of your throat. He’s rolling his hips against your face, staring down at the striking image of you.

“Simon, please.” That thick, Scottish accent begs. He’s so close, he can feel himself throbbing. “Please…”

Leaning forward, Simon whispers into his ear, “Give her face a proper fuck, and I’ll let you cum.” 

Immediately, Soap’s fingers find your hair, using the strands as leverage to hold your head down. His hips slap down against your face, choking you with his cock. He’ll always do what Simon says. 

And that’s when Simon releases a breathy laugh, shaking his head with a mix of proud disbelief. “Cum in her mouth, Johnny.” He then says, “Go ahead.”

Simon watches and feels Soap’s body as it shakes, his cum and your spit pooling out of the corners of your mouth as you do your best to take it. It’s instantaneous, his high coming on as soon as Simon allowed it. And it makes you wonder once again how long they’ve been doing this. 

Soap’s body shivers above you, doing his best to hold himself up. His palms are pressing into the floor, the muscles in his stomach and chest tightening. Erratically, his hips jerk against your face, the melody of moans floating from his mouth absolute heaven to both yours and Simon’s ears. 

You’re gurgling on it, choking slightly from the amount. They’re both watching you, watching the white remnants slide down your cheeks. 

“Look at that…”

“Swallow it.” Soap’s first real demand of the night. 

There’s a strange order to this, to the interactions between the three of you. It’s unspoken, very clearly, but it’s there, hanging so heavily in the air you can practically feel it. Simon is above Johnny, and definitely above you. It’s in his nature to be like this, to be dominant. It’s obvious. And when Johnny’s with Ghost, he’s very clearly submissive. And now, with you in the mix, you find yourself falling into place quite nicely. Because what’s even more obvious than Simon’s dominance, is your submissiveness. 

You’re unable to gather the stickiness dripping down the corners of your mouth, but what you can swallow, you do. Your compliance earns you a proud grin from your captain, his hand returning to stroke your face lovingly. He’s so goddamn sweet. 

“Go rest, Johnny.” Kissing his shoulder, Simon speaks gently, urging him to relax. But before he does that, he’s letting his softening erection rest on your lips, watching you smile kindly as you stick your tongue out to lick him. 

“Caileag ghrinn…” (Lovely girl) 

Ghost had stopped his movements, wanting to witness his partner’s high. But as soon as Johnny’s gone, he’s focusing on you. The way he sees it, the way he hopes for it to be, is that you’re his new partner. You’re making their duo and trio. And he wants to welcome you fully, wants you to know how you’ll be treated when you’re with them. Simon could be rough but he could also be sweet. Above all, he just wants to take care of you, to make you happy. 

“C’mere, love.” Enthralled by you entirely, Simon moves over you. And he can’t get to you quick enough. 

In the blink of an eye, his mouth returns, one hand lifting to hold the hinge of your jaw. Now, he goes back to his previous movements, thrusting himself into your ass while his fingers continue to slide in and out of your sex. 

“Simon,” Your hands are holding his head, keeping him close to you. 

“I know,” He breathes, voice thick and gruff. “I’m here.” And his words do wonders to reassure you. 

Kissing him vigorously, you release a wanton moan at the sensation of his tongue dragging across your own. The force and pitch of Simon’s groan surprises you; he already loves the taste of Soap on your tongue. 

Watching from the side, Johnny catches his breath, witnessing the intimate act between you and Ghost. And the wonderful thing about it is he doesn’t feel jealousy; he’s happy, happy to see you collide and mesh with them. They’ve waited for this. 

“I’m, I…” You’re shaking, trembling in his hold. 

The thick bulge of Simon’s bicep curls beside your head as his hand lowers to hold the back of it. He knows you’re close, he knows that’s what you’re trying to tell him. 

“I’ve got you, love.” Leaning in, he kisses your cheek, his heated breaths washing over your skin. “Gorgeous thing…”

By now, you’re rocking your hips into him, into his hand and hips. “I, I need, mmh…” Fuck, you can’t get your words out. “I need you.”

“I know, and I’m here.” Simon grunts out in response, hips hammering into you. “I’ve got you. You’re mine, understand? You’re mine and Johnny’s now.” 

“Yes!” Your quiet wail makes him groan, shoving his face into the crook of your neck.

Unexpectedly, he bites down, feeling himself spill inside your tightest channel. And the foreign feeling urges you to crumble beneath him, to give in to the euphoria begging to burst from inside. 

Suddenly demanding your attention is the soft persistence of Johnny’s lips, his hand forcing your face to the side so you can kiss him. And Simon allows it, welcomes it, resting his forehead on the back of Soap’s head. You can barely kiss him back as your body convulses beneath the weight of them, your new partners. It shivers through your limbs, shooting into your nerves and washing waves of pleasure through your hips and sex. And Simon’s is just as powerful, the muscles he’s built over the course of years flexing to their limit. 

Staying inside for a beat, Ghost sighs, trying to gather himself. When Simon pulls out, he’s gentle and slow with it, mirroring the motions of his digits. He knew he’d lick them as soon as he could, and that’s exactly what he does. 

“Oh… I want a better taste.”

“Let her rest.” Soap coos, brushing hair away from your forehead. 

With kind efforts, Johnny pulls you into him, settling his back against the wall and urging you to straddle him. It’s easy, leaning on his body and accepting his soft kisses. He’s petting your hair, kissing you tenderly while Simon watches. 

“You know…” Ghost grumbles, shuffling to sit behind you. Pressing his chest to your back, he lowers his head with a contented sigh, lips trailing over the skin of your shoulder and neck. “I could get used to this.” 

[where-is-aslan]

What kind of music do they listen to?

Fandom: Call Of Duty.

Characters: Kyle “gaz” Garrick, John “soap” Mactavish, Simon ”ghost” Riley, John ”bravo 0-6” Price.

Genre: Headcanons (random)

☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•..

Kyle “gaz” Garrick

Gaz is ACTUALLY the type of guy who can listen to everything. I totally see him listening to Nirvana in the morning, 2Pac the day, and Adele the night. Mainly into american rap and hip-hop tho, probably a huge Gorillaz fan.

I KNOW he hates phonk, i just do. He really hates it. He surprisely really likes Price's music tastes, and always ask him for new songs recommandations. Vibes with John because they have similar tastes when it comes to pop.

Always listens to music when he's working out, walking outside or chilling, always has earphones on him. ALWAYS. Definitely has many playlists for every situations.

Used to listen to electro and techno all the time. Was so sure he could rap like Eminem when he was in middle school...

Simon “ghost” Riley

This man has serious anger issues, and that's the only reason why i think he listens to metal. He's a chill metalhead tho, like, he doesn't go to festivals or any event. A Slayer and Cannibal Corpse lover, he likes it fast and hard.

And surprisely, im 100% sure bro loves metalcore and nu metal (he probably listens to Slipknot religeously...) Enjoys jazz and sad rock songs when he's home alone. Radiohead saved his life. Says he hates everyone's music tastes except Price's.

Pretends he doesn't listen to music, and he never does in public. (And he actually doesn't often, only when he's off duty.)

Used to be a Nirvana teenager, the basic Kurt Cobain lover. Probably tried to learn how to play guitar when he was younger, and sucessed to have a decent level.

John “soap” Mactavish

Johnny is a radio music tastes guy. He listens to whatever comes on the radio. Harry Styles? Of course. Mäneskin? Pretty sure he loves them. Even Lady Gaga? HELL YEAH!

But, we all agreed that our Johnny boy is a pround scottish man. And i love to think that he actually listens to that angry scottish music. 100% Sure he loves Imagine Dragons and Ed Sheeran... He thinks Ghost's music tastes are cool as fuck.

He hates earphones and headphones, he needs everyone to listen to his playlist with him. He randomly starts to sing, whistle or hum when he's slightly bored.

He never tried to do anything with music, he knows damn well he can't sing even if he loves to do it as a joke.

John “bravo 0-6” Price

Good old rock. A good Black Sabbath on Spotify while he drinks some whiskey at home is always good. Knows a lot of rock (and some 80's metal) bands, thats why he gets along with Ghost's tastes so well. He's a nostalgic man, he has tones of vinyls at home.

Kyle influenced what he listens to a lot, im sure they made a playlist for eachother. Really likes Gorillaz just because Kyle loves it. Nothing more to say, this man's tastes are perfects.

Usually only listen to music when he's alone, but won't hesitate to give song recommandations if you ask nicely. If you're way younger than him, he'll laugh and tell you won't like any of that because you're not old enough to apreciate best things.

Used to wanna be in a band when he was a teen, but he quickly gave up. Can play the acoustic guitar pretty well and has a nice voice.

☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•.. ☆•°.•.°•..

That's all for now, i hope you enjoyed these silly headcanons :)

-Aslan, your local metalhead.

[sosadz]

Should’nt have.

Simon Ghost Riley x Fem!Reader

warning : mc death, fluff to angst

1774 words

Ghost was never an open man, he made some little here and there exception in the past for… let’s say, one particular Scottish man. But after he got K.I.A Ghost has changed. Other than Price and Gaz. No one in the Task Force 141 knows nothing about him and he knows nothing about anyone. He doesn’t care to know a thing about other recruits if he doesn’t have to.

He vowed to himself that from that day he won’t let it effects him. He likes to believe that he doesn’t want anyone to get closer to him because it will effect his mission but deep down he knows. Inside the walls he created to protect his own heart, there was a scream. A very scared one.

Something inside him was scratching him from behind those walls. If he let it out it will scratch him from inside out and will eat him alive until there’s not a single blood left in his body. He’s afraid of losing someone he cares so deeply for and someone who makes his life a little more brighter. He couldn’t afford that to happen again.

He was fully capable of doing so until you joined the TF 141. At first you were annoying in his eyes. Way too annoying. Always has something to say, always so caring and gentle. It itches his mind so much. Even after he snapped once and ended up yelling at you because you refused to leave him and go to the RP alone. Yet here you are, trying to make a silly light-hearted conversation with him in the middle of the mess hall. “you know sharks don’t have bone, Lt?”

“No” He simply said it. He never speak to you more than he has to. Usually you would keep going, ramblings about it with or without his reply. But today after a simple denied from him you went quiet. Perhaps he pities you, perhaps he wants to know more about sharks, you would never know. But the truth is, he just likes hearing your voice.

“Tell me more about it, sergeant” A soft smile creeping up on your face then you proceeded to tell him why Sharks don’t have bone. He didn’t look at you directly but a man like Simon will always know it. A tiny little smile formed at the corner of his lips but it was concealed by his balaclava. You have no idea how many times he unintentionally smiled while he was listening to you.

It was always like this. You and him sitting together, he barely says anything and you never fail to keep the conversation going.

one month,

three months,

five months had passed.

You found yourself laying on his laps talking about your day while he was caressing your hair carefully as if every inches of you are so fragile he might break it with one wrong move.

“Can I ask you a question?” You said, looking up to meet his beautiful hazel gaze. His eyes meet yours back and gave you a silent nodded. “Do you like it when I call you Simon or Lieutenant more?” A soft chuckled you couldn’t see appeared behind his balaclava. “Simon” He replied, tucking a part of your hair back behind your ear. “But it’s better if you call me Lieutenant in front of everyone” He added. You nodded with full understanding. No one really knows about you two yet. They might have figured out you both have some sort of relationship going on but that’s about it. They didn’t know how much night has been spent with you and him in his bunk bed cuddling, hugging and thousands of words coming out from both mouths saying how much each other’s mean to them in their own way of expressing it. They didn’t know you both were this close.

One day the TF 141 was sitting together in the briefing room with Price standing in front of them, telling the task force about how he planned this mission. Turned out that you, Gaz and a couple of new recruits have to help rescue a hostage from Makarov men.

Of course as this whole secret relationship has developed more and more as each days have passed causing Ghost to protest. When everyone including you left the briefing room he immediately walked toward Price and asked if he could come with Y/n. He gave Price all of the reasons he could ever think of. It is a very dangerous mission and he was very worried for you. And as cliché as it was, Price denied.

He left the room frustrated, but he kept his cool. “bloody hell…” He murmured to himself then a sight of you walking passed him caught his eyes, he grabbed your hand and dragged you away to his bunk. You didn’t have a chance to protest. Not that you will anyway. So you let him. “what’s going on, Simon?” You asked as soon as his bunk’s door closed, your brows furrowed in confuse in his suddenness. “Be careful in your next mission, don’t try to be a hero and save every soldiers in sight. Save yourself first, got it?” He said in a demanding tone. He was serious. He knows how dangerous Makarov men can be, especially for a recruit like you who only joined task force 141 for only a year. He trusted your skill with his whole heart but obviously you didn’t have enough experiences for this mission in his perspective. “I will, I promise to look after myself first” You tiptoed to his height and gave him a quick kiss. It didn’t do much, he will be worried regardless any method you use to reassure him at this point but at least you promise to look after yourself first to him. “we will end up here, sitting next to each other, like we always do” You grabbed his hands then traced the back of his fingers softly. Sincerity in your tone made him more calm. He didn’t say anything more but trying to clear his mind and tell himself everything is going to be alright.

But it didn’t.

All he had to do was to go against Price command and went with you. But that’s not him. But he should have. So that you would still be sitting next to him right now just like you said. He blamed Price, he even blamed god, he blamed that one recruit who made a mistake while they were on a mission and causing you to be the one who’s laying beyond the ground right now. But no matter how much he blames someone else, he blamed himself even more. He is the one that couldn’t protect you. He should’ve known it was too dangerous for you and you wouldn’t make it out alive. He wasn’t even there for you when you got shot. Hell, he was busy helping someone else who he knows is capable of completing the mission alone.

His hands gripped your dog tag so tight that if his hands isn’t so thick it might have bleed already. A tear slipped through his eye it fell on his balaclava causing a tiny wet spot under his eyes area. A scent of you were all around him. You spent your time so much in his bunk to the point where all of his belongings smelled like your perfume. The one he told you it smelled too sweet for him but now he wished to smell it from the crook of your neck more than ever. He couldn’t escape you. Not that he wants to. His closet still had some of your clothes, at the top of his bunk bed there was a small dried flower you picked up for him in the forest when you were on a mission back in the past. You told him to get rid of it and that you will find a new one for him since the one he had didn’t look good anymore. Thankfully he never did.

His gaze caught a similar face, it was your picture under his pillow. It must’ve slipped out when he destroyed the bunk after he heard the news.

‘Lieutenant, I think our mess hall has the nastiest food, how did you stand it’ You, after your three months in TF 141. Oh, to hear that voice of yours again.

‘Lieutenant, what if when we called an air strike on them while they’re shitting? wouldn’t that be the worst way to die?’ To be able to hit your head slightly for making a dumb joke again.

‘Lieutenant, can you help me train? I feel like I couldn’t catch up with the rest of the team’ To be able to touch you and making memories with you again.

‘I love you, Simon’ You, the first time you said you love him. He didn’t say it back, he never did. ‘I know’ You always added it after saying how you love him. He is a man of action and you know that.

You know he loved you.

His heart ached. All he could do was buried his face on the black shirt you left in his closet, grabbed it tight like it will disappear as soon as he let it go. You weren’t here anymore. You were gone. How could he accepts that? He once lost a dearest friend of his now he lost the love of his life. Why him? Why everyone he loves?

Your voice still ringing in his head over and over like a reminder that you were here. Your little giggling, your gentle touch on his shoulder when he was stressed. Your tiny face snuggling into his embrace at night.

No more of that.

Everything about you were gone now he was left with only your scent lingering around his bunk, memories he made with you in his mind and a picture of you.

A thought hit his mind causing him to shake, his breath became more heavier. What if one day he forget your voice, forget the way your touch felt on his skin, forget the look on your face. What if one day your scent fades away from his bunk, from his closet, from your clothes.

The thought of everything about you fade away from him entirely made his knees weak, his body was trembling on his bed.

“Please”

All he could do at the moment was begging and begging to someone. But there was no one.

He was left alone with his own thought, on the bed with the scent of you.

Which he knew wouldn’t be there forever.

[efadefoks]

Ok here goes nothing I guess. I was going to do more characters but got stuck and decided to post those i have

COD MW x High school teachers AU concept. The Office/Parks and recreation/Abbott elementary style mockumentary

Shepherd: principal of the school. Low-key hates his work, doesn't trust his teachers. Hasn't talked to a real child in years. Good at his job though

Kate Laswell: vice principal. She loves her job, she's good at it. Finds time to teach mathematics. Hates the phrase"Fix it" (Hears it at least twice a week).

Phillip Graves: substitute teacher. Came one day, never left. But reminds everyone that he can go every moment. Teaches informatics and robotics. Tries to be on Shepherd's good side but doesn't miss an opportunity to get friendly with everyone else. As a hobby tells lies about himself to different people. (Told Soap that he loves crocheting and promised his a scarf).

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish: was obsessed with "Fight Club" in his teens. Outgrew it but the nickname stuck. Teaches chemistry (unrelated). Never misses the chance to show some explosion during the class. Hears the words "don't encourage him" more than his name. Doesn't let anyone except Riley call him "Johnny"

Simon "Ghost" Riley: "English, Mactavish". Hates when Soap's little sisters start chatting in Scottish. (He thinks they talk about him and Soap). (He is right). Teaches English and Literature. The nickname Ghost is because no one can catch him on photo at the parties.

Alejandro Vargas: History teacher. Also is in charge of the theatre club. His favourite prank to play is to visit Rodolfo's class in the beginning of the academic year and start a conversation in Spanish with him (every time it is something incredibly ridiculous like the history of cheese in the culture of Aztec). Then he looks at the students and asks them "You speak Spanish?" After they say "No" he deadpans "You will". Works every time

Rodolfo Parra: Probably the most popular teacher among mothers. Neither admits nor denies the existence of a partner of any kind. Smiles mysteriously and leaves in his bike. Teaches Spanish. Always complains when Alejandro does the "do you know Spanish" thing (but secretly loves it)

[meliora-box]

GhostSoap hc’s because it’s almost 2am :D

-yknow what imma say it ghost gives me gamer vibes sometimes soap will catch him at 2am playing Minecraft or something and be like “for the love of god go to SLEEP”

-soap is definitely a metal head idc like bro has a MOHAWK I know he has a jacket full of patches with his favs he definitely likes shit like Metallica, System of a Down, slipknot, Ghost(heh) and etc

- he definitely introduced Ghost to Simon because of the OBVIOUS

“Look babe this band has ur call sign” “that’s nice hun I’ll look into it”

- Mary on a cross is their song I SAID IT ITS CANNON like the line “your beauty never ever scared me”????? THEM

- they have silly little movie date nights full of cozy blankets and snacks

-except one time soap suggested (forced) the 1997 Selena movie (because my version of soap is half Mexican) and thought it would be a GREAT idea (ghost hella cried at the end) “if I had to suffer thru it you do too”- Soap consoling ghost probably

-Soap is like every Latino mom and does his lil cleaning day with loud ass music blasting(he ain’t called soap for nothing🚶🏻‍♀️) and poor ghost just lays in bed like bro AGAIN⁉️

- Ghost teases soap for his height (he’s not even that short ghost is just GIGANTIC) but anyone else does it he squares up immediately

-Ghost definitely wants a dog but knows Soap is TERRIFIED of them (probably where he got the chin scar from)

-soap probably teaches ghost how to dance for the next time they go to another one of soaps family functions(Ghost pretends to be reluctant but secretly likes it because he likes the physical contact)

- in my version of them Soap is trilingual (Spanish, Scottish Gaelic and English) and Ghost is Bilingual (English and French because I think maybe his mom was French) he knows a BIT of Spanish but not a lot but soap teaches him

- Ghost likes bad bunny thanks to soap LMAOO

-like imaging that big ass man pulling up to base with bad bunny full blast I’m now laughing my ass off to that image💀

- Soap thinks beans on toast is HILARIOUS he once saw the rest of 141 eating it and just died from laughter on the spot

- Soaps family loves ghost although his older brother and sisters definitely gave him the shovel talk because that’s THEIR baby brother but let’s ghost into the gang because they see he’s a cool guy

- ok back to the songs thing every time Mary on a Cross is on and the “your beauty never ever scared me” part comes on Soap always looks at ghost and quietly sings the line with this dopey look and ghost ALWAYS gets flustered

Ok I’m done it’s now 3am I might continue this when the brainrot returns🚶🏻‍♀️🚶🏻‍♀️

[mimsyaf]

I am watching The Witcher S3:

It is impossible (for me, ymmv) to give 2 shits about anyone in this fucking show except Yenn, that elf guy who Siri Ciri used to hang out with for a bit when she was fleeing Nilfgard in S1, Jaskier (but only because Joey Batey is marvelous), and Cahir because we stan one (1) deranged fanatic, and I guess also Fringilla because she seems as over it all as I am. Oh and Istredd my beloved, who so far has been in a total of 10 seconds of this season.

And you might say, well Mimsy, that’s a lot of people. To which I would reply that THERE ARE SO SO MANY FUCKING PEOPLE IN THIS and it is so confusing but not in a “keep up with the clever twists” kind of way but a what the fuck is ever happening at any given time kind of way. Like, everyone’s got at least 3 agendas and are double crossing each other all the time but I can’t keep track of ANY of it. And there are just too many existential threats. But anyway, despite the people I mentioned above that I do want to actually see, instead I am watching hours of footage of That Fire Dude, the king’s ambiguously rascally gay brother who I want to like but I seriously don’t have a clue what his deal is and also he needs to open his mouth more when he talks, Fucking Francesca and Filavandrel (I thought HE was supposed to be King of the Elves or whatever, but he just mopes around after her sorry ass), Fucking Francesca’s Brother Who Is At Least Now Dead, that other elf guy who talked like Bill Pullman and who was annoying but at least he also hated Francesca, Meanface Tissaia, That Very Hot Sorcerer Guy from S2 who I guess is sleeping with Tissaia and is leading the sorcerers or at least the AMAB ones (do THEY get turned into eels, or is that fate just reserved for girls), that guy who I think is supposed to be a dwarf but is mostly just Scottish. that Redanian king and his spymaster Dykstra or however he spells his name (actually I would climb that old man like a tree but I hate his stupid storyline also because I have no idea what he and bird lady are even trying to DO), The White Flame Who I Guess Used To Be The Hedgehog Guy but seriously the actor playing him is like 30, I guess he fathered Ciri when he was 16, Ciri Herself, Geralt’s offscreen-fridged mother, that Druid lady (I like her werewolf bf though), that fake version of Ciri who sometimes talks in a weird voice, and The Wild Hunt. Who I guess are supposed to be terrifying but who just remind me of Gwar tbh. Oh and maybe Simon Callow is in it, or was? Above all I do not give a flying fuck about Geralt, which is kind of a problem. He’s BORING. He’s so BORING. And he’s onscreen so much of the time.

I dunno, people’s fic about the video games made them sound fun, were those fun? This is decidedly more unfun with each season although it is kind of queer and has many many beautiful people to look at. It also has a lot of non-specific vibes and I guess I’m watching for that. But if one more person says “The Continent” again I am going to lose my shit.

[sassykai10]

Just Let Me Breath

Summary: 

"He cupped his hands and filled them, then ran them over his bare face.

He felt the marks of his eternal scars pass under his fingertips.

Hard lines of memories that had branded him, preventing him from forgetting every time he saw his face in the mirror. That was why he never looked at himself.

That was why he did not want anyone to look at him."

-

Ghost has a dissociation moment.

Warnings: Angst, Dissociation, Derealization, Panic Attack, Anxiety

Please, If you don’t feel confident to read it, just don’t! Take care!

------------------------------------------

It was a cold mid-November evening.

The base was completely silent, except for the few soldiers on watch for the evening.

Price had let the guys from Task Force 141 off so they could rest before their new mission somewhere in Europe.

The captain had gone back to his office to sort out some paperwork. Gaz had run back to his room as soon as he had been given the all-clear. Ghost had intended to return to his room to get just enough rest, but Soap would not let him go until the middle of the night.

It was just past midnight.

The sergeant and lieutenant were in a quiet little room on the base. They had decided to pass the time by playing cards, chatting - Soap especially - and drinking something strong to help them fall asleep better later.

"Boom! - the sergeant threw a double pair onto the table - how do ye respond to this excellent play, LT?" he observed him amused with a big grin on his face. Proud of his cards.

Ghost looked at him. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up just enough to give the idea of a small smile under his balaclava.

Ghost slowly lowered the cards in his hand, a scale of alternating black and red cards ascending from number four to eight.

"Shite..." huffed Soap as he rolled his eyes and tapped his thigh with one hand.

He then moved to settle himself better in the chair. His hands slid over his face and lightly tapped his cheeks. He took the shot glass and poured himself some Drambuie, a liquor his parents had left him the last time he had visited them.

He raised his glass slightly and after carefully contemplating his choice, downed the contents in one gulp.

When he had finished he banged the glass so hard on the table that Ghost was already thinking of Price's face when he found out the next day that Soap had broken something because he was half drunk. Fortunately, nothing broke.

"Whoa! - Johnny shook his head left and right as if to clear his hangover, then looked Ghost straight in the eye with new resolve, his Scottish accent growing stronger - A'm waantin' a rematch!"

"Whatever you say, McTavish," replied the superior calmly, amused.

The two spent another half hour playing and when it was time to return to the room, Ghost was forced to help the sergeant.

In no time at all, he had drained about half the liquor he had brought and was now unable to stand.

"LT... - called him back chuckling - how come yer not as drunk as me? Ye've been drinking too..." he hummed drunkenly.

"I can hold my liquor just fine Johnny"

"Tis nae fair though..." he pouted.

"What?"

"I want tae be like ya when I grow up..." he joked chuckling.

Ghost took a few seconds before replying.

"You'll be better than me, Johnny."

"Hmm. Maybe, but I'll never be as cool as ye" and laughed belly-first.

Ghost felt himself smiling slightly.

It had been so long since he had spent the evening pressed in the company of someone who could make him feel good and prevent his mind from returning to all those horrible memories of the past.

When he was with Johnny, he felt like Simon Riley, not Ghost.

But this thought, as nice as it was, made him uncomfortable. A certain sense of anxiety and nausea tightened his chest.

Johnny had been able to bring a part of Ghost out into the open, something he had been hiding for years since it had fallen into Manuel Roba's hands.

Maybe the man wasn't completely dead. Right...?

'Lt! - Soap snapped his fingers in front of his eyes to rouse him from his trance - we're here!" he laughed.

"Hmm," he muttered in agreement.

Johnny took the room keys from the pocket of his military suit trousers and with difficulty managed to slip them into the keyhole. With a turn he opened the door.

"Finally some rest!" he sniggered as he made his way to his perfectly made-up bed according to the strict rules of the barracks.

With a leap, the sergeant threw himself onto the mattress and moved over the sheets to find a good sleeping position, crumpling and unravelling them.

Despite not being a dog person, Ghost had always thought that Johnny actually resembled a Golden Retriever in character, especially when he was drunk.

Seeing him tossing and turning on the sheets, it felt like watching a dog turn in the kennel before going to sleep.

"LT...! - Johnny called him back in a whiny voice - goodnight!" and smiled at him through wide smile before resting his head on the pillow and falling asleep.

Ghost watched him for a few seconds before turning on his heels.

"'Night Johnny" he mumbled, grinning slightly as he closed the door behind him.

The corridor was silent.

Ghost's footsteps could not be heard, that was a characteristic of him. He had been trained to be a weapon, and as such he had to be able to move silently, on the tips of his toes, to sneak up on his enemies and sever their carotid artery with a single blow from behind.

Even if he had wanted to, that part of himself would never have changed and no matter how hard he tried, some of the things Roba and his people had put in his head, he would never be able to forget them, many of the traumas had changed him so much that they left everlasting scars in his mind.

He took a long breath as he began to feel his heart beat faster.

Remembering what he had been through was certainly not helpful, especially if he already had to deal with these traumas at night with nightmares that lasted for hours on end and always woke him up with his throat closed and tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

With long strides he finished walking down the corridor and after entering his room he slowly closed the door behind him, making sure the key made two turns in the keyhole. Being cautious and anticipating any possible enemy attack, especially in his sleep, was one of the answers to the traumas he had been carrying around since his return to action.

He removed his boots and jacket, carefully placing them in order near the entrance.

He glanced at the clock on the bedside table by the bed. 00:43.

He could feel his heart still in his throat, pounding and pounding in his ears.

Fuck...

Quickly he headed for the bathroom and with a sudden gesture tore the skull balaclava off his head, a reminder of what he had become.

He did not even look at himself in the mirror and turned on the water in the sink. He cupped his hands and filled them, then ran them over his bare face.

He felt the marks of his eternal scars pass under his fingertips.

Hard lines of memories that had branded him, preventing him from forgetting every time he saw his face in the mirror. That was why he never looked at himself. That was why he did not want anyone to look at him.

He wiped water over his face several times, as if unconsciously trying to eliminate all traces of the growing anxiety he felt in his chest.

Anxiety about what then?

He didn't know either, but his mind travelled so fast that it could be anything: the mission, the night, the nightmares, his relationship with Johnny and the other team members, his fear of not being enough...

All kinds of thoughts of this kind ran through his unconscious continuously, without giving him a moment of peace.

He just wanted to be able to breathe.

To forget everything he had suffered for, but he knew that would be impossible.

He looked up and saw himself in the mirror.

He had done it without realising it and now he regretted it.

His face was milky white, decorated with heavy and numerous pink scars cutting across his forehead, neck, jaw and lips, and his nose was slightly crooked from all the blows he had suffered.

He looked into his eyes, so dark brown that he wasn't sure if he was really looking at the colour of the irises or inside his soul.

He felt and saw his eyebrows arch imperceptibly upwards. The corners of his eyes began to itch uncomfortably.

His hands clung tightly to the edge of the sink to seek support with the reality he knew was disappearing.

For a few seconds he still saw himself reflected in the mirror, then he saw nothing more.

His head was whirling dangerously and his mouth was completely dry. He felt his legs and arms begin to stop supporting him. His balance was precarious.

For a tiny fraction of time he remembered standing in the bathroom, facing the mirror.

The more he looked at himself, the more he wondered if that person in front of him was really him, Ghost, not Simon. He tried to convince himself of that somehow.

He was certain that Simon was no longer there.

But then who was that man in front of him?

In a few moments consciousness slipped from his hands, before returning to his mind, all of a few seconds apart.

He had to force himself to remember where he was, who he was.

His mind was distracted and before long he found himself immersed in a strange, but not unusual feeling of disorientation.

Now he was no longer sure where he was.

Blurred images appeared before his eyes and when he tried to close them he could not.

His head spun lighter, increasing the feeling of nausea that knocked at the pit of his stomach.

He suddenly felt his body become weak, as if he were floating.

Then he saw him, or rather, he saw himself.

The man before him was standing somewhere, not sure where he was.

He could see his blond hair, but his face was blurred.

What did he look like?

He knew, of course he knew!

So why couldn't he remember?

When he saw him turn around, he felt the taste of bile rise beyond his stomach, up his esophagus.

The blond-haired man had the face of a skull, no eyes, no mouth, just an aggregation of pieces of bone.

He felt a slight movement and his mind began to whirl again, wiping the man out of sight.

...Simon...

His name reached his ears in a distant, distorted way.

He turned his gaze to see where it came from, but no one came forward.

Around him only darkness.

Darkness, darkness and being alone.

He shifted his eyes left and right, above and below, where he hoped to find a light, something to help him escape the sudden panic he felt in his chest.

He felt his body as if lying down.

And suddenly the blurred but familiar image of the coffin's interior took him by surprise.

The air began to run out quickly.

He tried to move within that cramped space to find something useful to get out, again.

The jaw... he thought as he felt around, only to realise he couldn't move.

He was going to die there.

He had managed to escape the first time, but he had been pardoned and now, by some strange twist of fate, he would have to relive those interminable minutes again without being able to move or breathe.

His life would end there.

Simon...!

The same voice reached him a second time, more clearly.

He closed his eyes tightly.

He tried to struggle as much as he could, to no avail.

He had to escape at any cost!

When he opened them wide, he was no longer in the coffin.

He felt he could breathe better, however with difficulty.

He looked around again and saw for the second time the so familiar body of a man with ash-blond hair.

He was standing, his shoulders arched slightly forward.

He approached.

He saw him trembling.

He looked closely at his face: his eyes were fixed in front of him, lost in something that even he did not know what it was. He could see that he was biting down hard on his upper lip, just enough to be bleeding. His cheeks were streaked with tears.

It pained him to see that man suffer like that.

Him?

Who was he pitying?

That man?

Who was he?

Who was that man?

Where was he?

Shit...! Shit!

Simon!

It's all right...!

... Johnny?

He opened his eyes wide.

His head was spinning as if in a spiral, his vision was still blurry.

He felt his quick breath go in and out of his mouth.

He had to stop. He had to catch his breath.

His heart was pounding loudly in his ears.

He had to regain his self-awareness somehow.

Three things he could smell.

The faint smell of the shampoo he had used the day before. The aftershave. The faint smell of cigarettes.

Three things he could touch.

His sweatpants. His arm. The cold edge of the sink.

Three things he could see.

His hands clinging desperately to the sanitary. His toothbrush in a glass on the small cupboard nearby. Himself in the reflection.

Inhale. Exhale.

Repeat.

Ghost closed his eyes and forcefully ran his hands over his face.

He needed to detach himself from that mirror. He needed to get out of there.

Fuck...

He ran a hand through his hair as he shakily made his way to the bedroom.

The anxiety was still there, but he felt decidedly more self-conscious.

He saw the balaclava on the floor and bent to pick it up.

Putting it on meant going back to being Ghost, the man he was meant to be. A confidence to gain full control of his body.

He passed the mask around his head and took a deep breath.

A - wrong - feeling of peace embraced him, making him feel safer.

He sat on the edge of the bed taking his face, now masked, in his hands.

He took more long breaths trying to calm himself in the last moment of the panic attack.

He looked up and glanced at the clock. 1:03.

Only a quarter of an hour had passed since he had entered his bedroom after leaving Johnny drunk in his room.

The feeling of helplessness seized him, making him break into a cold sweat.

So little had passed and he had experienced the moment as if it had been hours.

He could not remember what had happened, but he must have had a moment of derealisation and dissociation, something he had been experiencing for years, but was not used to.

How had he managed to come to his senses this time?

His mind strained to remember.

The memory of a male voice, heard many times before, made its way from his unconscious.

"Johnny...- he sighed quietly, his eyes open in amazement- fuck..."

He didn't know if that was good or bad.

He knew that the sergeant could be trusted enough by now.

He didn't want him to get too close to Ghost. He didn't want him to run away once he got to know him better and especially didn't want to risk putting him in danger.

On the other hand, however, a deep desire in his heart wanted someone to at least try to help him, to save him from the idea of a life lived only as Ghost and not also as Simon, who in one way or another still existed in his mind.

He was afraid that a good soul like Johnny might change him, not knowing what awaited him once he got so close to someone.

Ghost shifted on the bed to stand with his back against the wall, the pillow behind his back.

He curled in on himself, closing his legs and tucking them against his chest.

He hid his head between his knees and his hands gripped his feet tightly.

He would wait until he fell asleep, then the day would begin with a wake-up call and preparations for the mission ahead.

Everything would be exactly as it always was.