Note
what sort of music does simon listen to- and what are the others’ opinions on it when they inevitably discover it?
They probably wouldn’t share a playlist
Plus Roach:
#I bet soap likes local rap like any late 90s boy#hearing ghosts music taste would be like#‘what’s this Simon ? a soundtrack to your annual knitting club meeting? top 10 beats to sleep to?#and ghost gets offended like ‘at least it’s actual music not just some Scottish lad speaking really fast’#nd nobody wants to drive with roach and his hype white girl music#call of duty#ghost babygirl#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#gary roach sanderson#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghostsoaproach#cod ghost#cod soap#cod roach#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2
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Behind the Wall
Who was this stressed, suited man...and how could you love him so easily?
A Nanami Kento glory hole story.
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Corporate!Nanami (before return to sorcery), falling in love with a stranger, hand jobs, blowjobs, fingering, excessive cum, creampie, anonymous PiV sex, tiny bit angsty if you squint
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"How much do they pay you here?" A deep voice, smooth, but rusted with whiskey and smoke.
Your eyebrows raised spontaneously; kneeling down behind your black screen and hole, you didn't necessarily expect the small-talk with your clients to be romantic, but such business-like enquiries did not suit the tone, either.
Regardless, you would accept almost any pay, to find somewhere clear of the monsters that plagued you; the monsters that had chased you from job after job after job. None had followed you here tonight, it seemed, so you answered, trying to sound light-hearted.
"About industry average, I think."
A huff, the man's voice now bitter; "After they skim the majority off for themselves after your hard work, though."
You shrugged, as if he could see. He hadn't even begun to hook his cock out yet, so all you could see was a pair of lean, long legs in a black pinstripe suit. You found yourself tickled by your interaction beginning with anti-Capitalist outrage, and you quipped.
"Great pension plan, though."
"I somehow doubt that."
You laughed, musical and sweet, and were satisfied to hear another huff, the barest hint of laughter from your stranger, before his voice toned lower, his words for your ears and yours alone.
"Well...though I'm sure you deserve better than this place, I'll make it worth your while. I have to get back to work, and I'm sure you have bills to pay."
Beautifully veined, thick, long hands had begun to undo his belt, and you felt a strange thrill of excitement that you didn't feel with the other men. He sighed, unzipping, hooking out a long, thick, pretty cock that looked painfully hard and weeping pre-cum.
"I can't concentrate like this, I'll just...get this poison out and then I can focus."
He sounded almost apologetic, his words dripping with loathing in a way that made you frown. You reached one finger out through your hole, beckoning, tender as you whispered.
"Well, I can help with that."
Your stranger had grasped his cock to direct it through your glory hole, but hesitated at your tone, as if the tenderness you gave him was an odd specimen, requiring examination before he could accept it.
The tip of his cock, pink and full, nudged against your cheek and nose as it pressed through the hole. You heard your suited stranger hiss and shudder. You couldn't help but be impressed by your stranger's size, spitting onto the tip before beginning to stroke him in long, languid, practiced strokes.
"How do you hide this beast when you get a boner at work--"
A huff again, almost amused, drawing out into a ragged, needy groan. His fingertips pressed on the board on the other side, white-knuckled, his voice straining as he tried to speak past the pleasure of your pumping hand.
"--sit-- sit at my desk...hoping it'll go away-- fuck, you're good...just help me, please...pay you well, just-- just get it out and I'll head back--"
Your suited man groaned again, deep and fractured as your hand picked up its pace. When you spat on his tip again, your lips ghosting against him, he bucked involuntarily, cursing and apologising under his breath. When you drew the flat of your tongue across his slit to taste the salty pre-cum there, he almost whimpered with divine agony.
You felt a squirm of pleasure in your belly, sure that his beautiful voice alone could form the soundtrack you could orgasm to, night after night.
"You sound like you should have a girlfriend to help you with this." You bit your lip, satisfied to hear how his cool, bored tone had broken into something altogether more desperate.
"--sh-shit, u-ungh...any woman deserves better...better than anything I can offer-- f-fuck, I'm close already--"
You felt it; his balls were too big to fit through the hole alongside his cock, and they looked heavy, aching, his body struggling to draw them up as your suited man threatened to spill in your hand after a single flat minute. You whispered to him, soft in a way that offered him an intimacy he was clearly desperately lacking.
"Stop hating yourself when you should be coming in my hand, big guy."
When his knees buckled against your wall at you cuffing the base of his cock with your other hand, making the veins stand proud, you knew he was crumbling.
"--a-agghh fuck-- come too hard if you-- if you keep that up...shit, like a cock ring, I..."
You hoped that when he came, some of his abject self-loathing would pour away, too. His groans were rapidly turning into short little growls, the screen shaking as he bucked into your fist with such desperate force.
"--f-fuck, good girl, perfect...unnnhhh, perfect...shit, I'm...I'm..."
"God, you really do need thi--"
Your voice broke off with a squeak to feel a veritable fountain of cum spurt over your face, stripe after stripe of thick white release spattering over your cheeks, flooding down your hand and chest.
"O-oh-- wow--"
Your mouth dropped open in shock as your suited man grunted and cursed through his orgasm, his balls heavy and twitching, and you tasted a drip of his seed trickle down your nose and onto your tongue. Musty, sweet; nothing like its thickness would suggest.
His cock twitched for what seemed like an eternity in your hand, as you stroked him down from his peak, so covered in cum that you considered you may have to call it a night to go home and shower. As his groans faded, his voice ragged, you felt the guilt and shame radiate off him in waves.
"Shit, that was...ugh, I'm sorry. It's disgusting, I'm sure."
"It's absolutely not. I'm just...wow. Do you always come that much?"
A pause, guilty again as his voice rumbled; "...yes."
You laughed, and his cock twitched in your hand. He chuckled, warm and gravelly, when you pressed a cleaning wipe out through the hole.
"See you soon?" You asked, strangely hopeful.
"Not soon enough." He answered, soft in a way that surprised himself. His voice dropped an octave as a roll of bills pressed through the hole to you. "Here...keep it quiet. They're taking advantage of you."
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You were prepared, the second time your suited stranger visited. Having required an early finish and a shower two nights before, covered with an obscene amount of cum, you blushed to recall that you brought your vibrator to the shower with you, climaxing against the wall to the memory of his velvety voice.
You hoped he couldn't hear the faint buzzing between your legs on your side of the wall. You squirmed, muffling a moan around his cock head as you prepped him, your lips stretched and glossy with pre-cum.
"-h-haaaah, god, you...you're wasted here-- feel so pathetic-- no stamina with...with a mouth like that around me-- o-oohhh...fuck..."
You released him with a wet little pop, feeling your own pleasure building with the insistent buzz against your aching clit. He seemed just as happy to have your hand, and you admired the little neat trail of honey-blond pubes at the base of your fist as he fucked into it.
"Yeah, well...you're wasted too, at that company, by the sounds of it."
"Mmm...feels like what I deserve--"
You cut him off with a tongue to the underside of his cock, his voice fracturing into growled curses and hungry moans again.
"I already told you, if you talk about yourself like that again, I'll make you come faster--"
A breathless, rumbling laugh; "You're a monster."
You whispered, your breath ghosting against his cock head just enough to make him shudder; "Plenty of monsters in this world, beautiful man...but not me."
Your suited man stopped arguing with you, losing himself instead in the way your mouth, hot and suckling and eager, drew him in deeper with every bob of your head. The gasping, husky cry he made when his tip curved round the back of your throat, sent a burst of pleasure through you that had you humping your vibrator involuntarily.
Between his gasps, his vision fizzling with pleasure, you heard him hesitate, his voice barely above a whisper; "What's...that buzzing noise, I-- do you have...back there, are you--"
Barely pulling back, approaching the climax you tried to muffle as you pumped his base with your hand, you moaned, sweet and sinful around his cock head; "B-brought my vibrator...hope you don't mind--"
"Oh-- fuck-- FUCK--"
You squeaked, your orgasm muffled by the cum that flooded your mouth and tongue. As your pleasure threatened to make you convulse, you pushed forwards instead to take the rest of what he offered down your throat, and you lost sight and sound for an indeterminate amount of time, blinded and deafened by thigh-trembling ecstasy.
Swallowing, gasping, and fumbling a hand in your underwear to pull the vibrator off your overstimulated clit, you babbled at him, apologetic.
"S-sorry, hard to--to get guys off sometimes-- without a bit of a hit myself--"
"Fuck, don't talk about other guys when you just came with my cock down your throat."
You giggled, breathless, hearing your suited man pant as he came down from his high. When he removed his cock from the hole, a long, beautifully crafted thumb and forefinger reached hesitantly through instead, and gently pinched your chin.
You pressed a lingering, affectionate kiss to the pad of his thumb as it swiped over your lower lip, and you felt your heart thud to hear such a delighted, satisfied hum from him. He opened the palm of his hand, surreptitious, and your stomach twisted to see an even thicker roll of bills than before.
"...you don't...don't have to--"
"I want to, I...I meant it when I said you're wasted here. They're monsters. Animals."
You took the money with a heavy heart, pressing another kiss to his palm, and leaving your whispers there with it;
"Scarier monsters than them in the world."
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A black dog hunted your suited man, the next time he came to you. You felt it snapping at his heels, and when your stranger approached, it was to sit with his back against your wall, instead. You saw the briefest flash of a thick, corded neck, broad shoulders, a neat blond undercut. He was quiet for a few minutes, before you spoke, soft.
"...hey, you. I missed you last night."
He scoffed as if he didn't believe you, and you reached a hand through, poking him briskly on the shoulder.
"I mean it." Another pause, and you swallowed. "Do you...did you want to...?"
"I...I just want to talk. I'll still pay."
"I'd talk to you for free."
A further silence from him, your warmth a balm for his fractious self-loathing. His next words hung heavy with the weight of the world.
"When will we rest, do you think? When will it end?"
Your eyelids fluttered, looking down in thought. Your fingers stroked over the pad of his suited shoulder. You thought of how you'd been late to your gloryhole, that evening, your usual path blocked by some stop-motion atrocity, an eldritch horror only you could see, and you swallowed hard.
"...I don't know. It doesn't feel like it ever will."
A soft sigh, his voice rich and smoky; "I hesitate to ask what your particular burdens are, to have led you to a pit like this."
You felt tears prickle on your lashes. Taking a deep breath, and tippy-tapping your fingers on his shoulder, you tried to remain upbeat against the rising tide of misery.
"H-hey, it's not all bad. I got to meet you, after all."
"If that's your greatest joy, I pity you."
You winced. Your suited man jumped, when your hand gripped his shoulder with beseeching fervour, his own hand slowly coming up to overlay yours, dwarfing it in his palm. He tensed, unsure. When you spoke it was with the certainty that he needed to understand you.
"Get your tie off, and tie it around your eyes."
He was silent, stunned, his voice brittle as he replied; "...excuse me?"
"Just do it. Blindfold yourself. Then come here."
A moment of hesitation again...then a groan, surely older than he was, as he moved. You heard the silken friction of his tie being undone. You felt the anxious tension radiating off him, and you closed your eyes, eager not to ruin this mystery for yourself.
"Alright...if you insist."
When his voice sounded again, you felt his breath across your lips, inches from each other at the hole in the wall. You raised your hand up, feeling his shudder as your fingertips examined his face as though you were examining a sculpture; and, a sculpture he could have been, with high cheekbones, a thick squared jaw, narrow soft lips. You smiled, your eyes still closed.
"You're too handsome to leave here without a kiss."
Your suited man was silent, but you felt his breath hitch and his heart stutter.
When you finally pressed your lips to his, he moaned with ecstasy, just as he did when you pressed your lips to his erection. Though you took the lead initially, with your lips softly parting his until you could taste him, your permission imbued him with a bravery and confidence he hadn't revealed to you before.
He took charge, and kissed you like a man starved, his evening stubble rasping across your chin, nose against nose. His tongue trailed with a rusty shiver over your lips.
"F-fuck...you taste good...I-- ungh..."
He broke off to you biting his lower lip softly between your teeth, drawing him back in until your lips melded closely enough for you to suckle on the tip of his tongue. He moaned again, desperate and stuttering in his chest. You heard the brush of his palms pressing against the other side of the wall, desperate to cup your face and tilt his kisses down your throat.
Your mingling breaths tasted sweet, so indescribably erotic in its simple intimacy as you pulled away. You fought against the desire to open your eyes, instead biting your own lip, your brow furrowed against your own stupid decision. You whispered, to a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob, from your suited man.
"And I'd do that for free, too."
It was the most he had ever paid you, that night, for the simple intimacy of a conversation and a kiss.
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Not a single solitary man visited your gloryhole the next night. You fizzled with worry, as man after man appeared to loiter near you, before choosing someone else; anyone else. It didn't make sense-- even your regulars would be heard mumbling nearby before walking away from you.
You felt a clench of worry; the managers would still pay you, you were sure...but not if it continued.
You felt almost lightheaded with relief and something deeper, when a familiar voice graced your wall near the end of your shift.
"Are you lonely, in there?"
You felt a frisson of joy, and you knelt upright, grinning, your heart fluttering.
"Not anymore."
There was a momentary pause, and you felt the words that your suited stranger wanted to say, stuck, gated by his teeth. Eventually, when he spoke, it was strained, as if fearful of damaging the sprouting intimacy between you both.
"I've...been thinking a lot, recently. About what's fair."
You blinked, unsure, but answered anyway. "Oh?"
"It's not fair that I have to do a worthless job for people I hate, just to earn enough money to retire young. It's not fair that you're here, selling your body to make a living. It's...its not fair that it's only me being pleasured."
You swallowed, heat rushing to your cheeks, feeling him err against what he wanted to say, and he continued.
"I...would like to do something for you. For...for both of us. At the next window."
Oh. The next window. The curtained table, upon which you could lie your lower half, for a man to use the deepest parts of you for his own pleasure. If any other man-- any other man, had asked this if you, you were sure you'd have hated yourself for it. And yet...
"I...I've never done...that."
"I'm...I'm glad, I...I hate myself. For using you, and how other men would use you, and I'd like...to give you better. To treat you as you deserve. God knows, I'd like to tell you to walk away from this shit hole altogether but that's ignorant of me, so I...just for tonight, I--"
"Okay."
You almost clapped your hands over your mouth, your acquiescence so natural that it shocked you. Your suited man seemed surprised, too, and you could almost smell the thudding scent of testosterone from his body as it readied itself for the primal promise of spilling inside your core.
"Yes? You...are you sure?"
"Never been more sure of anything in my life, actually. I...I'll come round."
"Fuck, I...I'll be waiting. Nobody else can-- fuck."
You stood on shaky legs, suddenly self-conscious. Arriving at the table, you took a deep, trembling breath, before starting to strip. You heard heavy, pacing footsteps; more mumbling; a snapped, deep, possessive response.
"This one is mine."
You bit your lip, muffling a laugh at your suited man's immediate dismissal. By the skittish footsteps of the rebuffed other man, your suited stranger was not one that other men would choose to fight. You spoke up, your voice smaller than usual.
"Alright, here...here I come."
Reverent silence hung in the air, as fine as spun gold, when you finished moving your bare lower half down the table. Self-conscious, with your hands pressed over your face in blushing mortification, your thighs and knees remained clamped together.
You heard slow, deliberate footsteps towards your body, as if your suited man had forgotten how to walk. His voice spilled forth, full of sighs.
"Exquisite, I...god, I don't deserve this."
You could have cried for him. Sick of his apparent self loathing, you stretched one foot out until your toes pressed against rock solid abs beneath a pressed, twill shirt. You felt another blush rock your system, not expecting your suited man to be quite so buff.
A large, warm hand grasped your foot, stroking up your arch, your ankle, your calf, and settling with a squeeze behind your knee. When his other hand began to mirror the first, both of your knees now bent and pressed together in his grasp, you heard him whisper as he held you.
"I'll cover you," he promised, ragged with need, "with my body, I...I'll keep you hidden. Keep you safe."
"Thank you."
"Do you trust me?"
"One hundred percent."
A pleased rumble. "Good girl."
Softly, tenderly, two great hands stroked up the sides of your thighs, gliding around your hips with his shuddering groan. Your suited man's hands felt like liquid sex, turning every patch of skin he touched into an erogenous zone.
By the time his thumbs had begun to trace up and down, up and down the V shaped creases of your mound, you squirmed in his grasp, heat pooling in your belly. He chuckled, his thumbs stretching up to massage circles on your lower belly, warming you before he filled you.
"Does that feel good?"
"So good," you whispered, struggling to remain bashful with his obvious adoration.
This warm-palmed massage, from belly, to V, to thighs, to hips, and back again, melted you. Your thighs began to part, your code cracked, without you even noticing. When he settled his hips between your thighs, you moaned involuntarily, and felt his mouth, familiar only to your lips, begin to trail kisses along your ribs, your breasts hidden by a thin black curtain.
He appeared to resist temptation, nipping along the marks left by your bra beneath your breasts. Though outwardly calm, his hands grew ever tighter, shockingly strong and needy on your hips, and you could feel how ragged his breaths were against the soft wet suckling marks left by his mouth.
You had never felt so worshipped, and your suited man seemed determined to know you before he buried himself inside you. The only natural response to those strong hands beginning to creep up the inside of your thighs, was to offer him the treasure he sought, by opening your thighs completely to him.
"Please, can I...make you come on my fingers?"
At this point, you'd have to beg him not to stop if you opened your mouth, and instead locked your thighs around his hips so he couldn't escape. That deep chuckle again, this time against your sternum, and he kissed you in reward.
"Tell me if you want me to stop."
"I won't, I-- o-oooh...my...haaaah..."
His fingers, wet with his spit, had slid between your folds, two of them teasing around your entrance while his thumb circled with blissful ease around your clit.
Utterly unafraid of playing you like an instrument, he massaged your little bud until the noises you made were to his liking. You whimpered to feel the insistent press of his two thick fingers, and his murmured growls, add to the fold.
"Fuck, you're...perfect. Get you ready...or I won't fit...fuck..."
Within seconds, he had found your spongy soft spot, turning your moans guttural, making love to you with his fingers before he took you. Your suited man was certainly no boy, responding to every moan, and every whimper, with the surety needed to take you to orgasm.
Only the tenting press of his cock, harder than ever against your inner thigh, gave away how well he was controlling himself for your sake. Already at the edge, you tumbled into completion when one beautiful, fine boned hand slipped under the curtain to cup your breast, to the tune of his hushed curses.
"Come for me, my love."
As if he hadn't noticed you were already arching, mewling, and fucking yourself down on his fingers, halfway through your peak. He stroked your inner walls as if to comfort you, shushing you, soothing, until your quivering pussy stilled around him. You heard the clink of his belt, your head spinning to remember that the best was still yet to come.
"Beautiful girl...sound so pretty when you come. I...I'll pull out--"
"--don't you dare."
The strangled noise that left him, and the way you felt a spurt of pre-cum spill onto your belly, signalled a farewell to his restraint. You squeaked to feel him bracket two thick, strong arms beneath your thighs, bracing you for the way he was about to take you.
Jolting into place, his cockhead nuzzled between your folds. He appeared to be needing nothing but ragged, shallow thrusts to pleasure himself against your oversensitive clit, his lovely voice speaking as if to himself before notching at your entrance.
"--s-so long, it's been...been so long...worth the wait, for you, though, sh-shit...augh..."
He entered you with one deep, smooth press, shushing you again with a tender grasp, and little shallow rocks to kiss his tip against your cervix. He felt absolutely enormous, squeezing himself into you until every little ridge within you shaped to him, hot and wet. You babbled, your words shooting through him like knives.
"--oh m-my god you feel so good so so good so big-- barely fits, o-ooohh--"
When you gasped with the sudden fullness, one of your hands flew down past the curtain to hold your lower belly, and something in your suited man snapped. He laid one hand over yours, pressing it down hard on your belly, before cursing a half-hearted apology, and taking you with the desperation of a man possessed.
Three strokes, deeper, and deeper, and deeper, sent him roaring into a frenetic pace. Your hand clasping your lower belly had sent him spiralling. If his other hand hadn't held your hip so tightly, you'd have been fucked up the table.
And despite the mind-numbing force of his thrusts, you still, with every scrap of you, knew that he was making love to you, and not just fucking you. It made no difference, in the end, your voice growing in volume until it was nothing more than whimpered, mewling cries, only wishing you could have a name upon your tongue instead.
Stilted with the force of his thrusts, he blessed you with it.
"Say...say my name..."
"I will I will just give it to me gimme your name--"
"Kento--"
"--o-ooohh, f-fuck, Kento, harder--"
The cry that left his chest was visceral, animalistic, wrenched out of him with the same sudden finality as his orgasm. You felt him fold over you, his hands gripping your ribcage, his cock jolting and twitching within you as the heavy, obscenely long ejaculation that you knew so well, filled your pussy instead of your mouth.
"--unh...unh...haah...aaa-aahhh never...never gonna come like that-- e-ever again...that was it, that was the...the one that'll end me-- fuck...darling..."
Your suited man's bucks grew lazy, his torso almost completely blanketing yours, humping away the last vestiges of his orgasm. He stayed nestled within you, unwilling to let you go yet. You reached through the curtain, stroking a hand through his hair, and hearing him purr.
"...Kento, huh?"
He huffed a laugh. "Sorry, I...was that too intimate?"
"That? You're worried that was the intimate part?"
He laughed, rich and deep and genuine, kissing your ribs once more. You heard him reach into his pocket, and you spoke up, immediate.
"I won't let you pay me for that--"
"--I absolutely fucking am--"
"--no you are not--"
After he won the argument, and left with heavy reluctance, your manager pulled you aside with a dirty grin.
"You were popular tonight. How many men? Ten? Twelve?"
You blinked, confused.
"Just...just the one. Right at the end."
Your manager shook his head, turning back to the TV in his grubby little office, his fingers orange with Cheeto dust. Your brain ticked, and whirred...all the mumbling outside your gloryhole. All the murmurs, men almost visiting before moving on...and it clicked with absolute certainty.
Your suited man had guarded your gloryhole all night, paying other men to choose another woman. To choose anyone but you.
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"I worried you wouldn't be here."
You swallowed, sniffling, and settling behind your wall. More terrible monsters had settled around the building, blocking almost every pathway in, and you knew that you'd have abandoned your shift and run home to hide, if not for the hope of hearing your suited man again.
"You're...crying, my love, why are you crying?"
You felt him stiffen against the other side of the wall, at the sound of your sniffle, and his hand automatically reached through to cup your face, his thumb swiping away your tears. You turned your cheek into his palm, holding his hand against you.
Your gaze turned to the doorway...and to the bug-eyed, many-armed, puce coloured spindly monster leaning around it to stare at you.
You shrieked, crashing against your wall in terror. Your suited man took in a sharp breath, and the normal chatter and movement of the room quieted at your cry. Your suited stranger grasped your hand hard to hold you still, and his voice dropped to a horrified whisper.
"Stop-- oh, fuck, I understand-- your monsters-- can you see that? That thing in the doorway?"
Time slowed. Your jaw dropped. Your voice was thick, quiet, your insanity validated for the first time in your life.
"Kento, you...see it too?"
"Oh fuck. This...this is why you're in this place? Never been able to hold down a job, no? You've never felt safe anywhere?"
You could do nothing but weep into his palm, nodding, and nodding, and nodding. His voice rang, deep and commanding and final.
"I've got you. I...I've got you. You're safe. Just come with me."
"Kento, I can't just walk out--"
"You can. You don't need money. I've got enough. You just need...you just need me. I'll...I'll tell you everything. I'll explain everything."
When your face, tearstained and sniffling, leaned around the edge of your wall, you froze. Kento froze.
The silence was thick with wonderment, already in love before you had even seen each others' faces. But now that you saw him (obscenely handsome, tall, kind-eyed and exhausted), already overwhelmed, a sob bubbled over--
"Oh, god, you're so out of my league--"
A scoff, and adoration burning in his tired, under-shadowed eyes. He held out one hand, rescuing you as you'd rescued him.
"Come. I have some calls to make. You can tell me your name over dinner."
Your feet were numb as Kento walked you past the monster, shielding your fearful gaze with his hand. You ignored the shouts of your managers, half-deaf and stunned. In the chill evening air, his arm that was not around you, reached into his pocket, tapping, before holding a phone to his ear.
"Gojo, it's Nanami...why are you laughing?"
#pseudowho#pseudowho answers you#jjk#kento nanami#nanami kento#jjk nanami#haitch#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#nanami i love you#jujutsu kaisen nanami#kento nanami smut#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami x y/n#nanami#nanami fanart#nanami kento fluff#nanami fluff#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#nanami smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanamin#nanami my love
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i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…
- one time you were showing him something on the computer, and he took that massive 6’4” body of his and leaned it right over your shoulder to read the screen. as if that wasn’t close enough, he rested one of his big ��ol calloused hands on the desk beside you, effectively caging you into your seat. you could practically feel the warmth that radiated off of him when he did that. (he really likes the smell of your shampoo, by the way.)
- he watched you make your coffee one morning, memorizing your order down to the number of sugar packets you used. after that, you’d head down to make your morning cup and all the exact ingredients would mysteriously be laid out on the counter for you. he’d pick on you later about drinking coffee instead of tea, though. maybe he’ll make you a cup for you to try- back in his own office, of course ;)
- everyone in tf141 knows you’re a perfectly capable soldier, so they think it’s odd that ghost always finds ways to provide extra backup for you during missions. guarding you from danger, making sure your area is clear of threats…he can’t help but want to protect and take care of his fellow teammate, though he has a list of other ways he’d like to take care of you :’)
i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…
- he saw your phone screen after training one day, immediately zeroing in on the artist you were listening to. later that evening he casually brings up the exact same band/person, because he’s coincidentally one of their biggest fans! maybe he’ll ask you to go to one of their shows when you’re off duty… looks like you’ve found yourself a concert buddy ;)
- he bullies you, but it’s with the best intentions. it’s more like him relentlessly nagging at you until you match his snarky energy and give him some sass back, which he loves to provoke from you. you always have the best comebacks when he uses his dry humor on you, and he thinks it’s adorable. he definitely likes to push your buttons, but he’d like to undo them even more <3
- ever since he revealed your “shared love” for your favorite artist, he sends you music recommendations for you to listen to (that will hopefully make you think of him whenever you hear them!). pay attention to the lyrics, because he might be trying to tell you something with them… :))
i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…
- if you have any snacks or candy on you, he’s nonchalantly stepping right beside you and doing that “underhand-behind-the-back” gesture for you to shake some into his palm. (sometimes he imagines that’s what your lips taste like- omg who said that???)
- he let you wear his jacket during an operation where you were in the freezing cold outside for an extensive amount of time. he watched you shiver through your orders, trying your best to be a good soldier for him :( he walked up to you and draped his shadow company jacket over your shoulders (which smelled deliciously like him) and flashed you that toothy grin. “you look like you’re ‘bout to get frostbite, soldier. take this.” (he was definitely thinking of some other ways that he could warm you up…)
- he took his time when he read through your file, and wow, it looks like your city’s professional football team rivals his. it’s the perfect way to initiate banter with you. he’ll be giving you a hard time about it for sure, and maybe he’ll make some interesting bets with you depending on how well the season’s going ;)
#keegan russ x reader#phillip graves x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley#phillip graves#keegan p russ#ryn’s rambles#headcanons#call of duty#implied smut#mdni#call of duty imagine#call of duty headcanons#fluff#simon ghost riley#ughhhhhh i love them sm
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still tasting you lando norris x you (older piastri sister) rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) requested by @sublimebarbie for monzamusings ✨
“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”
Lando's voice was hushed and close, barely audible over the loud music but you heard him; you heard the suggestion in his tone - eyes dark when you peered into them, scorching through your soul.
The room was a blur – bodies everywhere, EDM vibrating through the floor and syphoning up the ceiling, making your head spin. The shots on the way in didn’t help your sense of direction, the tequila tasting bitter on the tip of your tongue as you followed your brother; a chain of McLaren employees all fighting their way through the dense crowd. It was loud, raised voices trying to figure out where we were being dragged. Truthfully, it was almost too much.
Until you saw him. His navy button down shirt stuck to his tanned skin, black thick-rimmed sunglasses shielding his bloodshot eyes, bright toothy smile reflecting the flashing lights. He was the embodiment of ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ with his arm raised in the air, singing along to a remix of No Diggity. Carefree, giving zero fucks until he saw you.
To the outside looking in, you two were friendly - he was your younger brother's teammate, after all. But in the shadows, there were unspeakable acts of pleasure occurring that had you both sworn to secrecy. Quick glances, ghosting touches, passionate make out sessions behind motorhomes and late night rendezvous in hotel rooms. It was the whole ‘sneaking around’ cliche and you loved it.
Especially when he looked at you like that.
Like you’d hung the stars in the sky, like there was nobody else in the room but you. He was ravenous and completely enamoured; rendered speechless every single time.
Granted, you looked hot. Intentionally. You craved his undivided attention and you had it in spades. He’d slipped away from the DJ booth as soon as he saw you lining up for a drink - chatting away with his PR manager and pretending like you couldn't feel his searing presence behind you.
“Hey guys,” Lando cooly greeted, smiling brighter than the sun.
“Hey hun, I'm ordering drinks - what do you want?” Sophie asked, waiting a beat for Lando’s answer and getting nothing in return, “Lando?”
“Huh?” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you to his media manager who was still waiting for his drink order, but now with a sly smirk on her face, “Couldn’t hear you over the music.” He tried to play it off and she simply hummed in agreement and turned back to the bartender.
“Smooth,” you whispered playfully, pulling him into a friendly side hug, “Congrats on the win… must feel amazing.”
Lando nodded and ran his hands through his hair - you'd noticed he always did that when he was nervous. His cheeks would flush, eyes would dart to anywhere but yours and his fingers would find the frayed ends of his gorgeous curls. All tell tale signs that he was into you.
“Yeah, it does…” he agreed, nodding and chewing the inside of his cheek, “Not as amazing as you look but still pretty good.”
He could turn it on when he wanted to. And it made you blush as your idle hands playfully swatted him away until you spotted your little brother strolling over to the two of you with a smile.
“Hey mate,” Oscar greeted happily, patting his teammate on the shoulder, “Celebrating?”
“Absolutely,” Lando enthused and held up his vodka soda with a grin, “Is Lily here?”
“Yeah she’s talking to someone. Thought i’d just come over and make sure my sister wasn’t annoying you again,” he winked, knowing that you were the least annoying person he knew.
So you rolled your eyes and started to walk away, “Rich coming from you, kid.”
Oscar simply laughed, none the wiser to your arrangement with his teammate, “Don’t have too much fun and remember which side of the garage you’re related to, yeah?” “Yeah, yeah.” you brushed him off and slyly grasped Lando’s wrist, dragging him off into the sea of sweaty bodies and debauchery.
It didn’t take long for his hands to find a place on your swaying hips, entranced by the way they moved to the music reverberating through your chest. It was hot, in more ways than just the temperature rising in the room as capacity hit. Lando’s breath swept across the back of your neck as he leaned in, so close to pressing his lips to the soft spot between your ear and shoulder that gifted him with the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.
It took every ounce of will power to save it for the bedroom.
But he was fighting a losing battle.
“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”
You couldn't stop the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips as his confession washed over you. So you spun around in his arms and leaned in a little closer than "friendly".
But you didn't care – you needed him.
“Then take me somewhere and do something about it.”
That’s all it took. Five little words had you pressed up against the wall of the lavish bathroom. The lighting was dim, nothing but a single sconce illuminating the copper walls and the gorgeous vanity you were perched upon. It was clumsy, all teeth as you kissed the man holding you up, legs sprawled and mewls slipping from your ruby lips. Tongue tied and breathless, all the things to make a quickie, a quickie.
“So fucking tight,” Lando grumbled as he pumped two fingers into you, the dampened string of what resembled a pair of panties haphazardly pulled to the side.
“Need to fuck me good then, hey.” It was a taunt fuelled by carnal need and desire - Lando simple nodded and lazily nipped at the skin exposed on your neck.
“Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”
He was painfully hard, which made unzipping his ridiculously tight trousers even harder than usual. But he managed to do it without missing a beat, fingers still delving into the depths he craved to feel squeezing his aching dick. He’d thought about it all day, even had to have a cold shower because of how fucking obsessed he was with the way you felt around him, clenching like you were now around his thick digits.
“We’ve gotta be quick so leave everything on,” you whispered with a devilish glint in your hungry eyes, fiddling with his belt buckle.
Lando wasn’t going to protest, in fact he loved the idea of having you like this - fully clothed with only your cute, black lacy panties pulled to the side for him to slide into. He couldn’t wait any longer. His trousers and pants were hastily shoved down just enough to free him, the slick coat of excitement cooled by the air and sending a chill down his spine. Until he removed his fingers and ran himself through your folds, eliciting the sound of an angel, heaven sent.
“We good?” he asked sweetly and you nodded with pleading eyes, sealing a layer of consent before nudging his tip into you.
A chorus of moans harmonised between the two of you, pleasantly satisfied by the intimacy as he shuffled forward with a gentle huff. It felt too good to have him inside you, filling you up with a delicious fullness you constantly craved from him. It’s all you needed after a long day of yearning and discreetly glancing across the garages - all you could think about was this moment, where it was just you and him; so outrageously turned on that you couldn’t wait to get back to his hotel. Desperately devoted.
“Feels unbelievable, baby,” you praised in a breathy moan, head tilted back against the already steamed up mirror hanging behind you.
“Having you like this is a fucking dream,” Lando practically growled as he pulled down the top of your dress and kissed the tops of your breasts, “So beautiful.”
Everything felt heightened as you relaxed against the vanity, fully trusting his tight grip and letting go of all inhibitions. That’s how you felt with Lando - walls down and no longer scared to feel it all with someone. And god, it felt good to purge all the pent up lust and aching to have him like this, panting and whispering filth into your ear; every word and jut surmounting to the knot in your stomach snapping to ribbons all at once. Your rushed words pathetically coming out in a whine.
“Lan… Baby I’m gonna- fuck, I’m so close.”
“Shhh, I got you darling, come ‘f me…” he sweetly whispered, easing you over the edge as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between your thighs like precious cargo.
You chanted his name over and over and over again, fingernails clutching his clothed back for leverage as you convulsed in pleasure, shockwaves hitting every nerve in your body as he spilled into you with an exasperated groan. He was beautiful, all flushed and fucked out as he pressed his forehead to yours, weary eyes locked in once again.
“Some of our best yet, I reckon,” Lando whispered, his smirking lips ghosting yours.
You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss as you slid down off the vanity, readjusting your panties to their usual position. There was a short beat before you glanced back up at him with a smile, fingertips instinctively tracing the angles of his sharp jaw.
“Oh, we’re just getting started, baby.”
a/n – something a bit different! i've always wanted to explore a lando x older piastri sister because well, this fic series exists and older reader stories just hit harder and are a lot easier for me to write. so let me know what you think!
click here for more writing...
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris smut#f1 x reader#f1 smut#monzamashwriting#monzamusings ✨#f1 imagine#lando norris x you
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From Gold to Mold
Chapter 7: The Realization
A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!
As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.
What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.
As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.
“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.
“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”
“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”
“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”
“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”
“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”
That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.
“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.
“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.
“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.
“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”
“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”
This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.
“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.
“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.
“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”
“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”
“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.
“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”
“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”
“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.
“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.
“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.
“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”
“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”
“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”
Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?
This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.
“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”
Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.
“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”
“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.
That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?
“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.
And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.
Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?
After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.
“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.
“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”
That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.
“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.
Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.
“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”
That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.
“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.
“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”
Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.
He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.
Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.
“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”
“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”
Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.
“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.
“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”
Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?
“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.
“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”
“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.
Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.
Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.
“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”
Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.
“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”
He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.
That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.
A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.
“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.
Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.
“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.
He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.
“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”
That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.
“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.
“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”
“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”
On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.
“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”
It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.
He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?
“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.
Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.
“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”
He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.
“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.
On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.
He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.
According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.
And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.
“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”
Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.
When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.
This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.
“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”
“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”
“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.
“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.
The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.
He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.
“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”
As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.
As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.
He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.
Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.
At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.
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#male reader#yandere batfamily#batfamily x male reader#yandere barbara gordon#yandere cassandra cain#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere dick grayson#yandere batfam#yandere dc#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#yandere stephanie brown#batfamily#batman#dc x male reader#from gold to mold#yandere alfred pennyworth
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inspired by this and this (sfw)
tags: idol! seungcheol x idol! reader, reader is a certified brat, brat taming, seungcheol and reader are hooking up, use of oppa and hyung, suggestive conversation | wc: 1.4k
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
seungcheol swears he’s mistaken when he hears the first paparazzi call your name. but there it is again, and again, and by the time the crowd is screaming hysterically, he’s sure it must be you. he turns around as he’s being escorted into the venue to see you on the red carpet, waving to the cameras, posing with a poise only a professional idol has. you look jaw-droppingly good, and he curses at the fact that he only got to see you for two seconds.
things work out in his favour though. he reaches his table to see a place card with your name on it. idols seated together. not a bad marketing decision.
unlike the vibrant red carpet, the inside of the venue is dim, a velvety purple hue painting the room, and there’s a dj whose set suits seungcheol’s taste. it’s nice being here after months of hiatus, and it would be even nicer if you’d get here quicker. your group and seventeen were contemporaries, and pretty good friends, though in the public eye it seemed like you’d barely interacted. everyone wanted to keep it that way.
finally, after what feels like hours, you walk in, heads turning as you make your way to the table. he checks you out, slowly this time, blown away by just how incredible you look. your dress is sensual yet subtle, and his hands are itching to feel the fabric, and you under it. you’re a few steps away when you pause, spotting him, equally surprised to see him here. you would rarely cross paths during schedules, so this was unusual.
respectful bows are exchanged before you take a seat. a waiter comes by to drop off glasses of champagne, and you take that as an opportunity to check seungcheol out. all black everything with faded auburn hair looks very sexy on him. you make a quick decision about what you want him to do to you in this outfit.
‘i didn’t know you were attending. just you?’ he asks politely, in stark contrast to how impolitely he'd fucked you the last time you met.
‘just me. just you?’
‘and wonwoo. wonwoo!’ seungcheol waves him down as wonwoo makes his way to the table, taking a seat to your other side.
‘hyung, they need you for some solo press’ he informs and seungcheol is escorted away by his manager.
in the 10 to 15 minutes that seungcheol’s gone, you make small talk with wonwoo, touching on agency-approved topics like comebacks, dance challenges, and the like. topics that wouldn’t cause an internet meltdown when someone would inevitably zoom into your lips and try to breakdown every word being said.
what you’d actually been dying to discuss with wonwoo was his latest fling, and why he’d ghosted them, but that’s filed away for another day.
seungcheol returns with a second drink in his hand, and message for wonwoo ‘wonwoo-ya, they’re calling you now. do well’ he encourages like always.
seungcheol takes a seat beside you, close enough to dispel any negative rumours and far enough to not get pulled into dating ones.
‘have you finished press?’
‘what?’ you lean forward, the music too loud to speak at a distance. he does the same, almost placing his hand on your thigh but he catches himself in the last second, closing his palm into a loose fist and resting it on the table. seungcheol repeats his question, and you nod. yes, you’re done with press.
‘there are way too many cameras here’ he recognises a few fans who run his biggest fansites, all “discreetly” pointing huge DSLRs in his direction. he has to be careful not to accidentally touch you. not to do something that makes both your names start trending tonight.
‘are you done with schedule? what are you doing after this?’ he gives your dress a once over, trying to figure out how to undo it. there’s a complicated knot at the back which makes him eager to try.
the corners of your mouth curl into a playful smile before you take a sip of the bubbly. the sparkling gold goes down easy, and your words come out smooth,
‘you’
his eyes widen as the gulp of champagne he’s taking enters the wrong pipe, sending him into a tiny coughing fit. his eyes dart around the room to see if anyone caught that.
he takes another sip to recover, regaining any composure lost. then he leans in, plump cherry lips brushing against your ear ‘don’t say shit like that when we’re in public or i swear to god’
he sits back, adjusting the fall of his suit, and runs his fingers nervously through his thick hair which bounces right back into place.
this time you lean in completely, seungcheol refusing to meet you halfway, your earrings dangling with the motion ‘or what? what’s oppa going to do to me? punish me for being bad?’ you have a dangerous lilt in your tone that makes his dick throb.
‘stop. it.’ he mouths a warning. as if that has ever made a difference.
to seungcheol’s surprise, you had turned out to be quite a handful. you were different from your idol image. same, but different. he’d liked you instantly when you’d met outside work at his manager’s party and one thing led to another till you both had hooked up. he couldn’t believe it. you were two of his favourite things — a brat and a nasty slut combined into one gorgeous woman, and seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.
though, right now he could, because at this moment you were a pain in the ass and a throb in his dick, both of which he couldn’t afford. it’s not like he could refuse to engage in conversation with you. how bad would that look? so he stays still, listening to whatever lewd filth you’re whispering into his ear.
‘oppa, you know that thing you said you wanted to try with me? you wanted to put it inside my…while you turned on the vibrator in my other hole? can we try it? please?’ you leave your words vague, his imagination running wild. he’s going to kill you. it can’t get any worse, he thinks, but then the music changes.
an rnb song. no, an rnb song that’s no. 24 on your blended spotify sex playlist. in a biological reaction that would make pavlov proud, his cock starts to stiffen in his pants from the very first note. he catches your eye, looking away instantly. this is bad. this is very bad.
in an attempt to hide the tent that’s pitching in his pants, seungcheol crosses one leg over the other, taking further precautions to cover his crotch with a drape of his arms. it’s clear to you what’s happening, and if it wasn’t obvious enough he starts bouncing his knee, moving it a million times a minute. he’d read somewhere it gets rid of an unwanted erection, but it seems to be doing jack shit.
you lean back, amused, smoothing a flyaway hair, and elegantly throw your sleek locks over your shoulder to reveal a hint of your cleavage. seungcheol has spent a lot of time in there — kissing, licking, sucking…and shooting cum on that strip of skin. you know what you’re doing. he knows what you’re doing. the waiter who just walked past knows what you’re doing. seungcheol makes a mental note to tell his manager not to book you both at the same event ever again.
he tears his gaze away from your chest, focusing on the table in front of him. how many overlapping stitches can he see? he counts.
but you’re not done yet. no, you want him riled up and pissed off. you want that vein in his neck to pop. you wonder if you can run the risk of sliding your foot up his leg. probably not, and yet a second later the point of your heel slides up the inner seam of his pants, making him jump in his chair.
his jaw clenches, his neck tightens ‘that’s enough, you fucking brat’ he spits, forgetting to lean in or hide his mouth.
you grin impishly, taking a congratulatory sip of your champagne. he doesn’t know this but you’re soaking wet, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. riling him up always made you leak arousal in anticipation for the impending punishment.
unfortunately, before you can get a teaser of what’s to come, wonwoo returns, walking alongside your manager. you’ve done your part, made your appearance, and it’s time to leave, he says. you say your goodbyes, first to wonwoo, and then turn to seungcheol who lets out a small huff of air before standing up. he smiles for the cameras and bows, glaring at you as you lock eyes and whispers,
‘you’re in so much trouble’
#idk i just felt like yapping#not proofread#i will get to it#scoups smut#seungcheol smut#scoups#seungcheol x reader#scoups x reader#choi seungcheol#scoups fanfic#seungcheol fanfic#seungcheol#scoups imagine#seungcheol imagine#scoups drabble#seungcheol drabble#scoups oneshot#seungcheol oneshot
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will ranting to nico in a very intimate, soft, vulnerable moment about how michael would have loved him. about how they shared music taste and aesthetic, and how michael would have taught nico all about the punk and goth subcultures, and how he would have gifted nico shirts and CDs and how he would have loved him from the moment will walked into cabin 7 with him and would have told him nico was perfect for him!
nico has talked to michael's ghost before, after the war, and he knows michael thought he was cool and would have been a good friend with him. he already knows everything will is saying, but he can't bring himself to tell him because there's nothing like hearing him talk about his passed-away siblings with a voice that sounds more like love than like grief.
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First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1
Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)
Word Count: 4.5k
CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader
Let me know if I missed any CWs.
Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.
Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.
Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7
The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so.
You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it.
Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside.
Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.
While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels.
Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls.
“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.
“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it.
The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”
Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”
With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country.
Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen.
“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed.
“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask.
“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats.
The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”
Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.
Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.
“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be.
“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.
You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.
For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.
“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him.
He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”
You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”
Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”
Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”
Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.
Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”
At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”
Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?
“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.
You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.
The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”
Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”
You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”
Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”
“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.
Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”
Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”
Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.
He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”
“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.
All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”
You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”
It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.
The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.
You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.
~
The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers.
Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled.
When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”
Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.
“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time.
You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”
He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display.
You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”
“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.
While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes.
Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”
Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”
“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit.
“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though.
“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you.
Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”
You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.
“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed.
His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.
An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside.
“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.
Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed.
“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret.
You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive.
It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update.
“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.
“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use.
“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.
“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo.
There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”
“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not.
#ghost x f!reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#cod fanfic#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley fanfic#simon riley smut#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x female reader#simon riley x f!reader#ghost call of duty#ghost cod
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bambi and her bodyguard
simon "ghost" riley is bambi's bodyguard, he worships the ground she walks on but fights his feelings for her. well, until he can't anymore (5,121 word count, i'm insane)
*bambi is my oc, click on my pinned 'about my blog' post to learn more about her :)
content warnings, mdni 18+
f!reader, bambi!oc, bodyguard!simon, unmasked!simon, gentledom!simon, innocent!reader, shy!reader, inexperienced!reader (but not a virgin), simon is down bad for reader, protective!simon, jealous!simon, oral (f. recieving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), use of "Daddy" (2 times), use of "good girl", lottts of praise, not really a warning but frequent consent checks (consent is sexy), frequent usage of pet names, let me know if i missed anything x
Simon never expected to like his charge for his latest bodyguard gig. The contract would only last for a year, and then he'd likely move on to whatever spoiled brat he was assigned to next. He retired from special forces 5 years ago. He thought he'd enjoy it, but as it turns out he hates to sit still. So, he started working as a bodyguard 2 years ago. He's had 8 jobs so far, most of them were short-term gigs. Bambi was his latest assignment.
Her name wasn't actually Bambi, but the nickname fitted her well. She looked as if she belonged in some flower field where the sunlight could shine on her, making her hair glow in golden hues. Bambi was gentle and skittish like a deer with big doe eyes. The object of innocence and sweetness. He wanted nothing more than to taste the sweetness of her lips and her cunt, but he couldn't go there. He wouldn't.
Bambi was the daughter of the CEO of a luxurious company. He was a billionaire, and like most wealthy and famous people he had people who hated him. Her father was receiving threats on both himself and more importantly, Bambi. His words to Simon in the consultation before he was hired were; "She's too good for this world, too innocent. These thugs would squash her like a bug."
Her father was right, Bambi was too good for this world. And he would do whatever it took to keep her from its harsh realities.
Simon stood outside of her bedroom, he could hear pop music faintly playing inside. Probably Ariana Grande or SZA, which Bambi had been educating Simon on against his will. Bambi had plans to go out with her best friend, Florence. She and Florence have been friends since middle school. They were an unlikely pair. Florence was outgoing, raunchy, and bold. Bambi was not. Bambi was shy, polite, and kind. Florence, like Simon, knew Bambi was precious, so she often used her boldness to defend Bambi, which Simon greatly appreciated.
Simon had been staring at the wall across from him in a haze as he listened to Bambi's faint, melodic humming from inside her bedroom. He was practically in a trance. But, he was snapped out of it as Florence came strutting down the hall.
"Hey big stuff," she greets Simon with a wink as she walks into Bambi's room without knocking.
"Florence," Simon greets flatly. As if there was some magnetic pull between him and Bambi, he turned so he could look into her room. Florence had left the door open after she entered. Simon leaned on the doorway as he watched Florence try to coax Bambi to do bolder eye makeup. Simon didn't think it was necessary. She looked angelic with her usual soft, pink eyeshadow and the delicate highlighter on her nose that gave her a natural but ethereal glow.
Simon barely registered Florence's outfit, his gaze was hyper-focused on the silk, pink dress Bambi was wearing. It had fine flower designs on it with a low cut, giving a glimpse of her cleavage. Simon gulped and forced himself to look away, pretending to seem intrigued by the collection of romance novels on her bookshelf.
"Si's coming with us," Bambi says, her sweet voice calling Simon's attention back to her like a siren call. He blamed the flip in his stomach on the shitty Chinese food he had for lunch, not her calling him 'Si'. She was supposed to refer to him as Ghost, but Simon wanted to hear his name on her lips, so he asked her to call him Simon two weeks into his job.
"You won't even know I'm there," Simon says, his tone dull, as she tried to prevent Florence's unavoidable bitching about him accompanying them to the blues bar they were going to.
"Yeah, right," Florence scoffs, turning towards Simon, "What are you? 6'4, 6'5? I'm sure I won't even notice your sasquatch ass behind Bambi the entire night," she says with a roll of her eyes.
"He's just doing his job, be nice," Bambi coaxes Florence with a gentle touch on her arm.
Simon watched transfixed as Bambi adjusted her hair in the mirror. It was neatly curled with a lovely, pink bow on the back of her head to keep her hair out of her stunning eyes. Bambi adjusted her dress and turned to Simon, "Are you ready?" she asked gently.
Simon cleared his throat, he barely listened to the words she said, he was too focused on her otherwordly-like appearance. "Yeah, I'm ready," he says gruffly.
"Good, let's go," Florence says and takes her hand, pulling her along with her as she exits Bambi's bedroom.
The whole drive to the blues bar was torture for Simon. He tried to stay focused on the road, but his eyes kept involuntarily drifting to the rearview mirror to get a glimpse of Bambi.
"I need to find you a man," Florence says to Bambi and Simon snaps out of his daze. His eyes fly to the rearview mirror again at almost inhuman speed. Florence was perceptive, or at least more perceptive than Bambi, so she had picked up on Simon's feelings for Bambi. And damn, did she love torturing him with it.
"I don't know, no guys seem to be the kind that I want," Bambi sighs, fidgeting with her purse, "I've tried dating apps, but they all just want hookups or they ghost you once things start to get serious. I want someone to understand me, to want to understand me."
I understand you. Simon wanted to say but bit his tongue.
"Maybe we'll find your Prince Charming tonight," Florence says to Bambi with a gentle smile, before turning to look at Simon in the rearview mirror with a mischievous smirk. Simon scoffs under his breath and focuses back on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.
Simon was two seconds away from punching something, someone, in the face. He never had the desire to hit a woman before, but damn was he itching to as he watched Florence introduce Bambi to a group of frat guys. Simon was positioned at the opposite end of the bar so he wasn't breathing down their neck, but could still see them clearly.
Simon wasn't supposed to drink on the job, but he went against protocol and downed a shot of bourbon after one of the frat guys rested his hand on Bambi's lower back.
His grip tightens on the now empty glass as Bambi smiles at the guy shyly, her cheeks tinted pink. Simon was practically seething when Florence looked at him over her shoulder with a smirk, clearly enjoying his struggle. She wanted him to man up and tell Bambi how he feels and she was gonna make him, one way or another.
After another grueling half an hour of watching the string bean of a human flirt with Bambi, Simon stood, the bar stool scuffing from his abrupt movement. He practically stomped over to them, stopping when he was positioned behind Bambi. The frat guy slowly looked up at Simon, who stood nearly a foot taller than him, he could see the unease in his eyes. Simon reveled in it.
"Your dad wants you to go home, said he got a new threat in the mail," Simon says flatly, his eyes bearing into the man's face. Bambi flinched at the sound of his deep voice, unaware he had been behind her. Simon grabbed her wrist, but with a gentleness that contrasted his rough exterior, and started to lead Bambi out of the bar. Florence followed after them with a slight smile.
Simon led Bambi to the car, he offered her his hand as she got in and closed the door behind her before getting in the driver's seat.
“Thanks for the help,” Florence mumbles as she gets in the car as well without any special treatment from Simon.
“I’ll drop you off on the way,” Simon says flatly to Florence. His eyes were dark, situated on the road ahead of him as he spoke. Florence knew she had pissed him off tonight, and she couldn’t be happier about it, which Simon knew, pissing him off further.
Simon pulled in front of Florence’s apartment. Bambi bid her goodnight.
Florence stopped at the driver's side window, “You better not fuck this up.” She says to Simon, a quiet warning before she heads up to her apartment.
Her words rang in Simon’s ears the whole way home, he really didn’t want to fuck things up with Bambi. But he needed to taste her, to be surrounded and engulfed by her sweet, addictive, scent.
After pulling up to the Bambi's father's mansion, he killed the engine. His heart pounded in his chest at the knowledge that her father was away on business. He fell into the usual routine of helping her out of the car and walking her to the door with a protective hand on her lower back.
Simon held open the door for her, and once she entered he did as well, closing the door behind them and locking it. Simon stood, utterly motionless and silent, as she took off her Mary Jane shoes. When she straightened back up Simon spoke, "What do you want in a boyfriend? What traits, what behaviors?" Bambi turned to look at Simon, her delicate features furrowing slightly from the question. "I'll be any of it, anything you want," Simon says, hating the slight desperation in his tone.
Bambi's big eyes scanned over his face with a mix of confusion and understanding.
"What do you want?" Simon asks again.
"I want them to be like you," Bambi says softly.
Simon swallowed roughly, his hand twitching with the effort of keeping still. "Like me?" Simon asks, his tone flat.
"Not like you," she says, her voice soft and airy, "I want you."
Simon could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the entire world seemed to get smaller and smaller until only Bambi remained. Before he could think twice about it, he walked over to her in two long strides and captured her lips with his. The softness of her lips made his head spin. His large hands moved to span across her waist, pulling her closer to him.
"You want me?" Simon asks, his lips a breath away from hers, "You can have me." he says, his voice gruff. "Whenever you want. However you want."
Bambi let out a shaky breath and kissed him again, her soft hands moving up to rest on the back of his neck. Simon's legs nearly gave out from the eagerness of her kiss, but he forced himself to pull away again, "How do you want me baby?" Her eyes flicker between his, a silent storm behind her eyes as she tried to get the courage to say what she wanted, "It's okay, you can tell me. No need to be an embarrassed sweetheart." he says, his large hand lifting to rest on the side of her face. Bambi looked down at her legs briefly then back up at him. Simon smirked, "You want me down there?" his head nodding towards her thighs. Bambi nods timidly, nibbling on her bottom lip anxiously. "Good girl," Simon praises before leaning down again to kiss her.
His hands slip down to underneath her thighs, lifting her up until her legs wrapped around his waist. Simon managed to make his way up two flights of stairs and down a hallway without looking as he kissed Bambi like she was his only supply of oxygen.
He kicked open the door to her bedroom, then kicked it shut behind him before carrying her over to her plush bed. He laid her smaller form on the pink comforter. "Can I move these?" he asks gently, motioning to the four squishmallows propped up against her pillows. Bambi nods and Simon smiles slightly, moving them over to the bay window before returning over to her. He stands over her, his fingers softly tracing along her thighs that were on either side of his legs.
"Now, I need you to do something for me, okay sweetheart?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Whatever we end up doing, if you want me to stop, or it doesn't feel good, you gotta tell me. Sound good?" he asks and she nods again. "Good," he says softly and leans over her body, his hands braced on either side of her head as he kisses her once more. Simon moans against her lips and braces one arm beside her head, the other sliding down to rub her side soothingly. His hand progressively moves down to her thigh, bunching up her dress slightly. He slowly eases the skirt of her dress up higher until her panties nearly peek out from beneath it, "This okay angel?" he asks and Bambi nods, her hands resting on his broad shoulders.
Simon pushes up her dress to her belly button, exposing her cotton panties to his eager gaze, "Cute." he mutters with a small smile as he looks at her panties. Simon leans down to place a kiss on her covered mound before standing straight again. "Can I see these pretty tits too?" he asks, gripping the fabric of her dress again as he prepared to lift it up higher. Bambi nods, "I need words sweetheart." he says with a gentle smile.
"You can take it off," Bambi says, her voice breathy with a slight tremble.
Simon leans down and gives her a gentle kiss, "Good girl." he mumbles against her lips before straightening up to take off her dress completely, “I’m gonna treat you like a princess tonight, sweetheart.” Simon says huskily as he lifts the dress up over her head. Bambi lifts her arms to help him, then rests them at her sides once the dress is off. Simon lets out a shaky breath at the sight of the delicate, lace bra that hid her breasts from view. "Such a pretty little thing," he breathes as he leans back over her body to plant kisses over the swell of her breasts. Bambi shivered, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. "Nervous baby?" Simon asks, lifting his head slightly from between her breasts to look up at her.
"A little," she says softly.
"Then let even the playing field a bit then," Simon smiles and pulls off his own shirt so perhaps she'd feel less exposed. "How's that?" Simon asks, tossing his shirt on the floor without a second glance.
Bambi gulps, her eyes flickering over his chiseled chest and abdomen, "Good." she says shakily. Simon chuckles in amusement.
"Now, we'll take this as far as you want, or do as little as you want, okay?" he asks and Bambi nods. "Can I take this off too?" Simon asks, his fingers ghosting over the straps of her bra. Bambi nods, "Use your words, baby." he reminds her gently.
"You can take it off," she says, arching off the bed slightly so he could unclasp her bra. Simon reaches behind her and unclasps her bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down her arms until her breasts are exposed. He folds her bra and sets it on the floor with a carefulness he didn't express with his own clothing. As Simon looks back down at Bambi, her chest heaving from anticipation and nerves, he felt his cock twitch. This little creature had the most perfect tits he's ever seen.
"Damn, little one," Simon says with a dramatic exhale as he drinks in her exposed chest. "Is it okay if I taste 'em?" Simon asks.
"Yes," Bambi asks, remembering to answer verbally this time.
"Such a good girl," Simon praises as he leans down to take her left nipple between his lips. He moans in satisfaction, his right hand coming up to squeeze its twin. "How's that feel baby?" he mumbles against her breast.
"G-Good," she says, her hands gripping the comforter beneath her. Simon smirks against her breast, moving over to her right breast to give it the same attention. He suckles the bud gently before pulling back to admire her tits again. Simon moans at the sight, his hands cupping and squeezing the soft mounds.
"Perfect fuckin' tits," he mumbles under his breath. His distraction from her breasts breaks as he looks down at her panties. "How about these, baby? Can I take these off?" he asks, nodding down towards her panties.
"Yeah," she answers, her grip on the comforter relaxing as he lets go of her breasts. He slips his fingers beneath the delicate fabric, "Lift your hips for a second sweetheart," he says and Bambi complies. He slides them down her thighs until they dangle from her ankles. Simon leans down to place a gentle kiss on her right ankle as he removes her panties, setting them on the floor with equal care he did with her bra.
Simon's focus returns to Bambi momentarily and his head falls back with a dramatic groan at the sight of her bare mound. He lifts his head again, sighing heavily as he rests his hands on her thighs. "Remind me what I want you to do angel," Simon says, looking back up at her face.
"Ask you to stop if I don't like something," she says softly.
"That's right, good girl," he says as he slowly pries her thighs open. Simon's mouth waters as he spreads her thighs, his eyes drinking in the sight of her pink, glistening folds. "Fuck," he whispers to himself, taking a moment to admire her bare sex. Bambi's cheeks turn pink and she looks away, growing flustered by his heated gaze. Simon smirks, "Don't get all shy now baby, you've got a pretty little pussy, might as well show it off." Simon leans forward, kneeling between her thighs and he plants a gentle kiss on her clit and Bambi jerks slightly.
"Have you ever had sex baby girl?" Simon asks Bambi. He knew she had a boyfriend before he was hired as her bodyguard, but he wasn't sure if they went all the way or not.
"Yeah, a few times," she says shakily. Simon nods in acknowledgment and kisses her clit again. He places a kitten lick on her clit before sucking it between his lips. He lets out a low moan at her taste, gently sucking on the sensitive bud. Bambi exhales shakily, her thighs twitching slightly. Simon keeps a gentle hold on her thighs to keep her spread open for him as he ravishes her pussy. Simon's technique was slow and unhurried, wanting to drag this out for not only her but for himself. He wanted to savor her taste and the sounds she made.
Simon's eyes flickered up to her face as he slid his tongue inside her. She gasped and her back arched slightly, a good sign. He began to pump his tongue in and out, lifting one of her thighs onto his shoulder so he could move his tongue deeper. Bambi let out a sweet moan, her face scrunching up slightly as his tongue slid deeper inside her. Her delicate hands gripped the pink comforter beneath her as Simon continued his ministrations. He watched her reactions closely, trying to see what she liked best. When she made a particularly appetizing noise, he repeated the action until her thighs trembled. He cycled through the favored motions, wanting to make sure she enjoyed every second.
Bambi panted softly, gripping the comforter tightly, her body growing tense as the familiar signs of an orgasm built within her. "Cum whenever you're ready, baby. There's no rush." Simon mumbles against her pussy, alternating between lavishing attention on her clit and fucking his tongue into her. Bambi gasps sharply and keens as she reaches her peak, her body trembling and spasming. She tilts her head to the side, trying to muffle her cries of ecstasy with the comforter. Simon smirked against her sex at her attempt to stay quiet.
He continued to lap at her clit until she jerked with each stroke of his tongue on her overly sensitive bud. Once satisfied that she was spent, he pulled away and licked his lips clean. "Good girl," Simon praises as his eyes drift over her limp form appreciatively. "Still not quite ready for me, though." he smiles and stands up to sit on the edge of the bed beside where Bambi's legs dangled off the edge.
"You're gonna do more?" Bambi asks, still slightly breathless.
"Baby, we can keep the foreplay going all night long if you want, I don't mind." he smiles, his fingers tracing over her mound. "I wanna make sure you're ready for me. But, if you don't want to have sex tonight we can just stick to this stuff." Simon says and Bambi shakes her head quickly.
"No, I want to," she says eagerly and Simon chuckles from her eagerness.
"Don't worry baby, we will if you want to." he smiles as he slides his fingers down to slip one of his thick fingers inside her, "Gotta get this pretty pussy nice and prepped first," he says with a breathy moan as he begins to slowly pump his finger in and out. Bambi lets out a slight moan, her thighs beginning to fidget, but Simon's free hand holds one open for his ministrations. "So fucking tight," he grits out as he continues to thrust his finger in and out of her sopping cunt. He relished the wet squelch from his finger moving inside her.
Bambi's eyes flutter shut as she moans sweetly, clearly enjoying herself. Seeing that she's relaxed, Simon adds a second finger. Bambi gasps and her back arches momentarily before she melts back against the bed. "Good girl, just relax and enjoy it," Simon encourages, picking up the speed of his fingers slightly. Bambi's lips part with a shaky moan as he picks up the pace. Simon smirks and crooks his fingers to find her sweet spot, he knows he found it when she arches off the bed and a high-pitched moan slips past her plump lips. Simon focuses on hitting that spot with each thrust of his fingers.
Bambi begins to squirm on the bed, her hips involuntarily rocking against his hand. "That's it, take what you need," Simon practically moans as she rolls her hips to meet his movements. He clenched his jaw, trying to stifle his own desire as he focused on making Bambi cum. But, there was a visible patch of precum on the crotch of his pants. He ignored it, focusing on the little angel he was pleasuring.
Simon smiles to himself triumphantly as her pussy begins to squeeze around his fingers and she white knuckles the comforter. Simon adjusts his hand so he could circle her clit without pausing his ministrations. Bambi gasps, her face scrunching up in pleasure. She tilts her head again, trying to hide her moans with the comforter. Simon's free hand moves to tilt her head straight again, "None of that little one, let me hear you." he says gently but firmly, and she complies.
Simon watches her face intently, drinking in every micro-expression as she cums. She lets out a desperate wail, her body convulsing and thighs squeezing around his hand as she cums. Simon's free hand quickly moves to grip one of her thighs, forcing her legs apart again. He slows the pace of his fingers, prolonging her orgasm. Once her inner muscles begin to relax and her breathing slows he withdraws his fingers, bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean.
"How are you feeling baby? Still good?" he asks and Bambi nods mindlessly, her eyes shut in bliss. Simon chuckles, amused by her blissed-out expression. He rubs her thighs soothingly as she comes back to herself. When she finally opens her eyes again Simon smiles down at her, "Do you want more? Or was that enough for tonight?"
"I want more," Bambi says quickly and Simon laughs at her speedy response.
"Okay, sweetheart," he chuckles and reaches down to work on his belt buckle. He pulls off his belt, tossing it on the floor before moving to unbutton his pants. Bambi watches his every movement, her body buzzing in anticipation. She had been dying to see what he was hiding beneath those cargo pants.
Simon unzips his pants and pulls them down, then his briefs. Bambi's eyes widen slightly as his large cock springs free and bobs against his stomach. The tip was red and angry, dripping precum. After Simon tosses his pants on his forming pile of clothing he looks over at Bambi, he chuckles at the look on her face. "Feeling a bit giddy are we?" Bambi's eyes flicker up to his face and she looks away shyly, feeling caught. "Don't be shy baby," he smiles gently, grasping her chin to turn her face back to his, "You can look at it as much as you want. It's all yours for the night, and as many nights as you want after."
Bambi timidly peeks down again before looking back up at Simon. Simon smiles to himself but doesn't comment on her quick glance as he moves to stand between her spread legs. He grabs her thighs in his large hands, guiding them to wrap around his torso as he stands before her. Bambi complies, locking her ankles together behind his back. Simon gives his cock a few slow strokes, spreading the precum over his shaft.
"Still want to do this baby?" Simon checks and Bambi nods, "What did I say?" Simon asks, his voice growing firm.
"To use my words," she says timidly. Simon raises an eyebrow, "I still want to." she says and he nods in approval.
"Good girl," he says and drags the head of his cock through her slick folds, coating himself in her juices. Bambi shivers each time his cock slides over her clit. His free hand rests on her belly as he positions himself at her entrance. He inches the head of his cock in first and Bambi tenses, panting softly. Simon moans lowly from the tightness of her pussy. He starts with shallow thrusts, stretching her open. Bambi responds eagerly to his movements, her eyes fluttering shut and lips parting. Taking it as a good sign, Simon pushes deeper until half of his cock is inside her, repeating the slow thrusts to ease her open for him.
Bambi's hands grip the comforter for the nth time tonight. She bites her bottom lip, stifling her moans.
"What did I say, baby?" Simon asks, halting his movements. Bambi's eyes fly open, "Don't be quiet, I want to hear you." he says firmly and she nods in response. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Simon resumes the slow roll of his hips until he bottoms out inside her. He groans in satisfaction as his balls press against her ass, "Fucking hell," he moans, remaining still for a moment to savor the sensation of her warm walls gripping him. Lost in his own euphoria, Simon snaps out of his cloudy haze as Bambi begins to squirm. "S'okay baby, I'll give you what you need," he says as he begins to thrust slow and deep, pulling out until only the tip remains before pushing back in.
Simon's eyes roll into his head as he begins to thrust again, letting out a gravelly moan. "Such a perfect little cunt," he breathes, "Gonna get addicted to you sweetheart," he pants as he picks up speed slightly. Bambi responds beautifully, her mouth dropping open as she lets out sounds of delight with each snap of his hips, "That's it, make all the noise you want," Simon encourages breathlessly, his hips smacking against the underside of her thighs with each thrust.
Bambi’s tits jiggled enticingly with each thrust, only adding to Simon's arousal. Simon lays over her, his arms braced on either side of his head as he ruts into her. Simon let out a shaky moan, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. She lifted her hands to rest them on the back of his neck, spreading her thighs wider to give him easier access.
“Good girl,” he grunts out as she spreads her legs wider. He leans back again slightly to get better momentum as he fucks her. Bambi’s eyes drank in the sight of him. His mouth was dropped open, his forehead beaded with sweat as he grunted and moaned with each movement he made. She couldn’t tell who was enjoying this more, him or her. His abs rippled with each snap of his hips, and Bambi couldn’t resist the urge to trace her fingers over the muscles.
Simon let out a low loan as her fingers danced over his hard abdomen and he increased his pace, fucking her with renewed vigor. “That’s it, touch Daddy wherever you want.” He grunts out. Bambi whimpers from the dominant title, surprised by how much she enjoyed it. Simon smirked, “Yeah? You like that?” He asks and she nods mindlessly. Simon chuckled and smacks her hip lightly, “Be a good girl and cum for Daddy. Make me proud.” Simon lets out something that resembles a whimper as Bambi’s pussy began to tighten around him. “Fuck,” he gasps, “Sweetheart, you gotta cum now before I blow my load inside you.” He warns, a slight tremble in his voice.
As if on cue, Bambi’s cunt clamps around his cock and she convulses wildly on the bed. “Oh shit,” Simon moans, his eyes rolling back at her already tight cunt becoming impossibly tighter, “T-That’s it, good girl,” he praises, his voice trembling as he fucks her through her orgasm. Bambi mewled and whined, her hands clawing at his arms as she rode out the waves of pleasure crashing through her. “Oh, fuck,” Simon gasps, “Gonna cum,” he pants, quickly pulling out of her messy cunt and stroking his cock rapidly. He lets out a low groan as he cums, thick ropes of his seed coating her stomach. Simon shudders and moans, bracing himself on one arm as he falls forward so he doesn't collapse on her as he rides out his high.
Simon pants, letting go of his cock as his orgasm subsides, “Holy fucking shit sweetheart,” he says, his chest heaving. Simon sighs shakily and tilts his head down to give Bambi a slow, almost thankful kiss, “That was damn good.” he sighs contently. “How about you? You still feelin’ good?” he asks breathily.
Bambi nods, “Yeah, really good.” she says, equally winded.
Simon gives Bambi another lingering kiss, “Let's get you cleaned up sweet girl.”
if you have any fic requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below or on my masterlist!! (check here: about my blog to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x oc#simon ghost riley x original character#bodyguard simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley smut#call of duty#bambisworlds#simon ghost riley x bambi
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𖦹 pairing: Dad!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader
𖦹 content: Crack & fluff, not proofread, ooc i think, d/n = daughters name, mild cursing
𖦹 notes: more self indulgent fics, this is bad lmao
And the world’s best husband who constantly makes his wife worried sick, award goes to Simon Riley! May we get a round of applause to commend this man? No? Alright, I’ll see myself out then. Hey, he doesn’t do it intentionally (most of the time). You gotta live a little, it’s not like he’s doing anything reckless. Oh but who can blame your heart when it dropped to the pits of your stomach upon seeing Simon carry your cherubic little toddler on one hand? He’s balancing her there like she’s a trained cheerleader! Maybe in the future, but she could barely even balance her own bobble head! Sure you may have been a teensy weensy bit over dramatic about it but accidents should be prevented as much as possible.
“Darlin’ look it’s fine, she’s even giggling.” He says just a little bit too casually, referring to your daughter who’s currently enjoying the little circus act they were performing. “Nope, put her down right this instant.” You command, and if Simon was scared of one thing it’d surely be you when you're angry. Guns and weapons would never compare to the fury of his wife. With a huff from him and a whiny complaint from your daughter, he sets her down onto the grassy yard.
“Oh what a killjoy, mama..” She puffs up her rosy cheeks, crossing her arms as she feigns hurt. You chuckle, looking up at Simon before speaking. “She’s got your accent. The rosy cheeks too.” You comment, lowering your head down to see your daughter avoiding eye contact with you as she acted offended.
"Which cheeks-”
“Nope, don't continue that sentence.” You could practically hear the way his lips formed a pout, copying your daughter. Pathetic, who knew a burly military man could get so soft for his little girl? “Awh come on eh? Don't be such a killjoy ‘luv.” He teases, using the same tone his little girl used.
Or maybe that one time Simon was blasting music the loudest the speaker could handle, it had a few curses and swear words here and there but his baby girl wouldn't pick up on it. He doubts she's even listening to daddy’s ‘bad’ music taste, so he's in the safe zone for sure!
Oh boy was he wrong…It was one of those days, you two were sharing chores—with you washing the dishes while he vacuumed around the house and hummed along to the song playing. While D/N was happily stacking her ABC blocks, she was silently listening to the song her daddy was playing. Even mumbling some of the parts since her daddy keeps putting this certain song on repeat. She barely knew the alphabet to begin with so she wouldn't even pick up on the words on the song, right?
“Mama!” She calls out, bringing her empty baby bottle as she signals for more milk. “Oh yes baby, I’ll fill your bottle right after I finish these.” You respond gently, rinsing the soapy suds away. “No, now bitch!” And with those words alone it felt like the toddler broke the sound barrier, silence filling the Riley’s usually noisy home when Simon slowly turned off the speaker. You and Simon share a look that plainly said “What the fuck.”, the man set the vacuum aside as it was time for another parenting lesson.
“Kiddo, that's no way to speak to your mum.” He lectures gently, taking her feelings into consideration. “Mama told you she’ll help you after, right? It's bad to call her names, mama sacrificed a lot for you.”
"But-” “No buts, kiddo. Your mum didn't spend 7 hours pushing you out and I didn't have to watch her scream out in pain like a demon just for you to curse at her.” Simon hoped he wasn't too harsh with his child, knowing they're tiny hearts are pretty fragile at this age. But he wasn't going to let it just slide, he watched his baby girl approach her mother and apologize. A smile gracing his face when he sees you forgive her and place a delicate kiss on her chubby cheek, he goes up to you once he sees the child take off to play in the living room.
“I think we should start considering the swear jar now.” You comment, placing a hand on your hip. “Definitely.”
“No more playing songs with any swear words from now on, Simon.” “Yes ma’am.”
#cod x you#cod fanfiction#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod#ghost cod#ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley#simon ghost x you#simon ghost fluff#call of duty#ghost riley#dad simon riley#girl dad#cod fluff#fluff#cod x fem!reader#cod x female reader#cod x y/n
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Through The Door:
Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 2.2K
Summary: Ghost doesn't trust you and when he hears you and Captain Price fighting in his office he stops to listen. But he hears and sees more than he ever expected.
It’s been ten days of this. Ten days of watching, following, and listening. And somehow it still hadn’t been enough time. Ghost still hadn’t caught you. But he knew he would. He just had to remain patient. He’d keep watching. You’d slip up eventually. He was sure of it.
Even if you did have everyone else fooled.
In just ten days, you had already made fast friends with Johnny. The two of you were always laughing and telling one another stupid jokes and stories.
The last thing you’d carried on about was music. You preferred old-school rock and roll. The Stones, The Who, The Beatles. But you liked classical too. You made fun of Soap for his favorite genre, cheery electropop. You called it music for “love-sick teenage girls” and teased him endlessly. He called you “a walking iPod shuffle” and said you were confused about your own taste. You playfully punched Johnny in the arm before you both laughed like hyenas.
It was like you were siblings, the way you constantly bantered and bickered. It set Ghost on edge. You both were so comfortable around each other. It was so familiar, so natural… It wasn’t right.
And Gaz, he wasn’t any better. You had asked him for additional training and on most days, Ghost found you two at the shooting range long after the recruits had left for dinner. At first, your conversations were shallow. In between firing rounds of high-caliber ammunition, you asked him about his life on base and how long he’d known Soap and Price. But the conversations eventually grew longer. And they grew deeper. Gaz told you about his family, his hometown, and his childhood. You told him about how difficult it was to leave the States and move to the UK on your own.
Ghost could tell that as the days were passing and as your conversations were growing more meaningful, the two of you were starting to trust one another more. And that frustrated him. Why couldn’t Gaz see what he saw in you?
He wondered if your skills were what threw the others off.
Ghost couldn’t deny that you were better than most of the other recruits. You were a natural at the shooting range. You picked up on techniques quickly and put them into practice almost flawlessly. And even though you pretended to be intimidated by it in the beginning you were especially good with a sniper rifle. You always asked the right questions about the winds, the terrain, and any potential bullet drop. And while Ghost found that suspicious, Gaz seemed to be amazed by it. Proud even. He joked with you about how quickly you could do math in your head and how that would come in handy if you were ever posted up in a sniper’s nest someday.
“Over my dead body,” Ghost had mumbled to himself as he watched you both from the shadows.
But you weren’t perfect. When Ghost did pull himself out of the base’s dark corners and did talk with you, you were always nervous. You spoke at breakneck speeds. Your sentences mushed together, like a quickly moving mudslide, totally out of control and unpredictable. You struggled to look him in the eyes. You fidgeted, stared at your shoes, and gave him any excuse you could to get away.
“Sorry can’t chat, Johnny wants to train in the gym.”
“I think I just heard Gaz call my name.”
“Gotta go. Price needs me.”
And Price… you definitely had that man wrapped around your little finger. Or at least Ghost thought you did until one night when he heard you two fighting inside the Captain’s office.
“Price, why won’t you tell me what you and Laswell are planning for the raid?”
Your words had stopped Ghost in his tracks. He glanced down the empty hall to make sure no one was around before sinking to his knees and pressing his ear to the door of Price’s office.
“Come on, love we’ve been over this,” he heard the Captain answer.
“But I can help!”
Your voice was pleading. You were practically begging Price. But why did you care so much Ghost wondered?
“I want you to focus on training. You asked me to teach you to fight remember?”
“I know… but you also promised to let me take some of the weight off your shoulders too.”
“You’re too smart, you know that.”
“Price…” you whined the Captain’s name and Ghost rolled his eyes. He imagined that on the other side of the door, you were probably looking up at Price with doe eyes. Needy and wanton. God… you probably were pouting your lips too.
He could only hope that Price would see through you.
“I want you to be as prepared as you can be before then. I can handle this, I promise ya I’m fine. We’ve got more resources and men now. It’s not like before. We aren’t alone anymore. Ya trust me don’t you?”
Good man, Ghost thought to himself. Don’t give in to her so easily. As long as Price continued to keep his cards close to his chest maybe they’d all get through this in one piece.
“But what if he’s there? What if he has my briefcase there and he’s figured out how to use it? He’ll see you coming. Price what if this is a setup?” You were doing that thing where you spoke 100 miles an hour again, your words sloshing and sliding into one another.
“Laswell’s been surveilling the area. He hasn’t been there. Your briefcase isn’t there.”
“Price but what if-”
“Shhh. It’s okay. Come here, love.”
Ghost heard the sound of a chair scrape and footsteps shuffle away from the door. He knew you were walking over to Price. He could practically see you standing in front of him in his mind.
Then you sighed.
“I’m tired, Price.” Your voice was softer. Ghost could barely hear you now. He tried to press even closer to the door. The metal was cold against his ear. “I know I asked for this… learning how to fight. But it’s harder than I thought it would be and…”
You stopped.
“Go on. Say it.”
“Your Lieutenant…”
Shit. Your voice was muffled.
Shit. He needed to hear this.
Ghost slowly reached for the door handle and carefully, he turned the knob. The door opened the smallest crack. He peered inside.
You were sitting across the room, straddled on Price’s lap. Your head was buried against his chest. The Captain’s hands rubbed against the back of your t-shirt in lazy circles.
“Ghost? What about him, sweetheart?”
At the sound of Price’s voice, you pulled your head from his chest.
“He hates me.”
Price stilled and his jaw clenched. Neither of you spoke. Ghost held his breath before looking to his left and right. Thankfully, the coast was still clear.
“He doesn’t trust you,” Price eventually said, breaking through the silence.
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s not.”
You sighed loudly and moved to stand, but Price reached up and quickly pulled you back toward him by your hips.
“Don’t leave,” Price said, his voice low and firm. “I trust you.”
“Then why doesn’t he?”
Because I know there’s something else going on with you, Ghost thought to himself. Because I know there’s a secret you’re hiding.
“Because he doesn’t know you like I do.” Price replied, his hand moving up your spine to hold the back of your head. “He doesn’t know how smart you are. That you can build something from nothing. He doesn’t know that you’re a fighter, that you’ve been dealt a shite hand in life but you’ve always soldiered on.”
Price leaned forward and kissed you.
Ghost looked down at the floor. He should leave, he thought. He should go back to the barracks and sit behind his computer and look for dirt on you that way. It would be less awkward. He’d feel less strange.
But Ghost didn’t move. He couldn’t.
What if this was the moment you finally slipped? What if you said something? He needed to be more patient. He’d stay a little longer. If only for Gaz, for Johnny. If they got hurt because he missed something he’d never forgive himself.
He watched as Price leaned back, pulling away from your lips. A smile sprawled across his face.
“He doesn’t know how sweet you taste either, sweetheart.”
You laughed, running your own hands through Price’s short hair as the Captain dove into your neck.
“I mean it, love. If any of those boys got to taste you like I do, if they got to feel you like I do…” Price pulled back from your neck and looked you in the eye. “If they got to fuck you like I do… none of them would ever distrust you.”
“Price, that isn’t really reassuring. You’re just saying you trust me because we’ve fucked.”
Ghost’s grip tightened against the door knob. Was that what Price was saying? Was that really all you were to him? A plaything?
He opened the door another inch. He needed to see your face better. He had to know what this was between you and his Captain.
“Remember the first day I brought you here? And I took you to my room. And I showed you all my scars. Do you remember?”
Ghost watched as Price tugged on your hair. Your head tilted back toward the ceiling and the captain dove into your neck again, kissing you just below your ear.
“Yes,” you answered with heavily weighted breath.
“And do you remember how you kissed me? How you teased me before you slid your sweet little tongue into my mouth? Do you remember?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed in affirmation.
“And do you remember how good it felt when my tongue was in between your legs? How it felt when my beard brushed against your thighs.”
Ghost felt his face grow hot. The scene in front of him made him feel like an intruder, a dirty and unwelcome voyeur. He knew he should leave.
But he couldn't make himself move.
He needed the truth.
He watched as one of Price’s hands left your hair and trailed slowly down your body. His fingers moved from your collarbone. Lower. Grazing your breast. Lower. Lingering over your stomach… Lower.
“Yesssss,” you whined as Price’s hand slid underneath the waistband of your pants and disappeared from Ghost’s view.
“And do you remember how hard you made me? Just by tasting you? Tell me you remember.”
You whimpered. It was a sound Ghost had never heard from you. Sweet. High-pitched. Soft.
Price’s shoulder moved up and down. His hand still plunged between your legs.
Ghost swallowed against a lump in his throat.
“I- fuckkkk,” you bucked your hips toward Price, “I remember.”
“And tell me you remember how I fucked you. When I first pushed inside you… how was it? Do you remember was I fast, like this?”
Ghost watched as Price moved his hand quicker. In and out. His right shoulder rose. Up and down. Faster, faster, and faster.
You yelped. The noise was loud and short. Your hands left Price’s hair and dug into his shoulders. You were clawing into him desperately. Falling apart with every second, every movement.
“No… no you weren’t fast,” your voice wavered as you answered.
“Good. Good girl. You remembered. Yeah, I was slow, just like this. Wasn’t I?” Price eased his pace, slowing down the movement of his hand buried in your pants.
“Yes… just like that,” you moaned as your eyes rolled back. You were lifting your hips up and down on Price’s lap now. Matching his pace.
Ghost shifted on his knees. His hand tightened against the doorknob as he continued to watch you both from the dimly lit hall.
“Has anyone else ever made you feel like that before, sweetheart? Has anyone ever made you feel that good?” Price asked as his voice dropped lower. He was practically growling at you.
And you…your face turned pink. Your lips parted. Your eyes closed. And your breathing… it became sporadic. Each inhale became a gasp. Each exhale became more desperate than the last.
This was wrong. Ghost shouldn’t be watching this. This wasn’t his intention. He never meant to see this. His eyes fell to the ground. But still, he stayed. He listened.
“No,” you moaned.
“That’s right. And no one has ever made me feel as good as you did either. You felt so good, love. So fucking good. And you want to know why I trust you?”
Ghost eyes snapped back to the two of you. This was the answer he needed.
“Mmmm tell me...” you gasped. The Captain picked up his pace, his hand delving between your legs with greater force. God the sounds your body was making. They were so loud. “Please tell me, Price.”
“It’s because I love you, beautiful. I’m so in love with you. You’re so perfect. I trust you with my life because I love you. I want to fuck you like that all the time… because I love you. If anyone got to love you like I love you they would trust you. Forever. Always.”
Ghost heard enough. He quietly backed away and gently closed the door.
He had found a truth today. Even if it wasn’t his place to hear it.
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(More from this story on AO3)
#call of duty#captain price#captain john price#captain john price x reader#john price#cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley#john price x reader#captain price x reader#captain john price x you#call of duty mwii
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Time Loop Headcanon
Glasses clink for a toast. The sour taste of whiskey goes down Fox's throat with a smoothness he doesn't feel. Laughter rings around the table as Rex spills his drink down his shirt.
White teeth gleam in the dark bar from clones all around celebrating the death of the Sith and the start of a new beginning.
Fox watches his brothers with detached delight and wonders why a piece of him feels missing.
He sets his glass down, a small clink clouded out by the music pouring through the place.
He slides out easily with a comment of "getting some air" towards Cody to prevent him from following. He exits 79s with more than one shove, wiping at a stain on dress uniform. It shouldn't matter but still he grimaces at the sight.
"Stupid shinies," he mutters, shaking his head.
A clatter from the side of the building has him pausing. Fox tilts his head and debates. It's his day-off; he's not technically on duty and therefore, whatever is there is not his responsibility. A phantom crushing on his heart, a ghost breeze to his hand: it has curiosity building in his veins.
"Hello?" Fox calls out, walking slowly towards the sound. His hand goes to his belt and he inwardly curses at the lack of a blaster there.
"Who's there?"
In for a credit, in for a mile.
The shadows of the alleyway does little to hide the body standing there. His cloak however doesn't. It covers the person's face and a glance down shows his hands nowhere to be seen. Fox swallows and chances on the hope that he won't be killed immediately.
"Are you okay?" Fox can tell by the leaning of their body weight on the wall that they must not be in the best of shape. "Do you need help?" He's sure there must be a medic somewhere in the bar. Would they be sober?
Probably not but better than nothing, he supposes.
"Kot'e." Fox stops at the word. The head raises just a bit for a line of gold to pass through. "That was your brother's name before he changed it."
Fox's heart skips at the words. At the non-Vod voice that emitted it. Only the Vod'e know about that, and even then, it's not many who remember it.
"Ruse," he starts again, "was the name you wanted but-"
"Who are you?" Fox doesn't ask so much as demands.
The natborn grunts, their steps unsteady. The urge to reach out has Fox's fingers twitching but he holds back. He doesn't know this man.
"You told me," he stops. Starts again. "I thought-" he mumbles before huffing. Huffs then lets out a choked laugh. "Doesn't matter." he says loud enough for Fox to hear. "It never matters."
Fox isn't fast enough to stop his fall when he crumbles to the ground. His hood comes off, dark locks spread in a halo. For a darker man, he's pale and it surprises Fox to see blood when he lifts his hand back up.
He presses against the wound and the man grunts in pain. Fox opens his mouth to yell, call for a medic or help, or anything, but the man shakes his head.
"No." The word has Fox's teeth clinking together in a shut. "Please."
Fox can't move his hands to do the actions needed to stop the bleeding, to make it better.
He knows basic first aid and yet...his mind is blank. Completely blank. Except for the dark eyes that meet his.
It's the most beautiful color he's ever seen.
A tear slips down his cheek and the man chuckles. "'I've never seen you cry before."
Fox shakes his head slowly. "We've never met before." Despite the anonymity of this natborn, grief squeezes Fox's heart like a vice.
The man smiles slow, half-formed almost.
"Now that’s a lie." He swallows a cough, his chest rising in protest. "We're meeting right now." Fox hates the blood that splatters his teeth.
"Besides," he starts up again. "I know all about you." Fox raises a hand to the man's cheek when he coughs again and he leans into it as though he's been deprived of touch. "You're Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard. Best soldier the Corries have and worst cook to ever step on Coruscant."
The chuckle that Fox lets out does nothing to stop the sob that comes after. Only his batch knows of his disastrous skill.
"Who are you?" He asks again and the man breathes through his nose.
He doesn't answer for several moments and Fox wonders if he ever will.
"If I tell you, will you promise not to leave?" Fox furrows his brows but nods nonetheless.
The man smiles. "Quinlan Vos. I married you three time loops ago."
Fox blinks. No clone has rights to their own body much less to marry. He's never met this man before tonight; nor, with a quick glance to the man's hand, does the man carry a ring.
Thoughts rush through Fox's head, question after question despite his analytics to the phrase.
Yet the only thing Fox can think to ask is "what's a time loop?"
The man laughs. Coughs again, blood staining his chin and Fox's dress uniform. "Hopefully, nothing you'll be caught in."
The man curls into himself as the next wave of coughs leave his shaking, and blood pours from the unknown wound.
It's this that snaps Fox out of his thoughts and he grabs the cloak to press against where he thinks the blood is coming from. "Medic!" He screams, and the man bitterly laughs at the call.
Fox's continuous yells gather enough clones to create action. A medic who's stupid drunk chugs water in an attempt to sober up but all it causes is puking and shouts.
Desperation digs into Fox's veins and he tries to stop his cries from being frantic. He can't crack.
He has to be calm. He has to help.
Why did he not call for help sooner?
"It's no use," the man says despite being crowded by useless clones. He pulls Fox close, hands shaking on his collar. He pulls Fox close enough to whisper in his ear. "I'm glad I got to love you, Ruse."
Fox's hands don't stop shaking for days.
#star wars#tcw#the clone wars#commander fox#quinlan vos#star wars vox#time loop#I wanted to write from the perspective of someone who’s not in the time loop#who has to deal with#the aftermath
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Coming Home. [nsfw]
Months without Johnny while he was in deployment led to lonely nights, lonely thoughts, and even more lonely needs. Caught in a rut when he returns home and decides he needs to have some "dessert".
F!Reader, smut, MDNI, established relationship, boyfriend!Soap, pnv, unprotected!sex
Months. It had been months since you last saw him. Off to some bloody deployment where he risks his life all for the sake of his job. You had to be no-contact to ensure Johnny’s safety, and perhaps even yours. Sure it irritated you because the distance made you fear he’d never love you again when he came back, but what could you do?
Finding yourself in your lonely house, it was quiet. The same routine for the repeating months. Wake up, eat, work, come home, eat again, sleep. It was boring, but it’s all you could do while you slept in your empty bed. Sometimes muttering to yourself about something that irritated you.
Thoughts constantly run through your mind rent free, churning your stomach, preparing for the worst. But then the thoughts soon turned into something else. Instead of churning, a low pressure built in your lower stomach as you sat on the vacant couch by yourself. He should be back soon right? You didn’t know how much longer you could just deal with your slim fingers instead of him.
You needed him. To fill your needy cunt. To tear you in half. His scent. His accent. His rough hair and stubble. Anything regarding him. You didn’t know how much longer you could do without it. As you kept thinking, your hand began to glide under your pants. The heat off your pussy was radiating. You were practically pulsating in how bad you needed it.
“Dinner first.” You remind yourself before taking your hand away and out of your pants. Walking towards the kitchen, you turned on some music to listen to as you made dinner for yourself. Slightly humming to yourself, taking out a pot and filling it with hot water then putting some food to boil into it. Probably some soup would taste great right now.
Your hips swaying as you began cooking, the smell of the soup filling your nose, made your mouth water. That was until you felt a large pair of hands on your waist. It made you jolt and immediately whip over to who the intruder was. It was Johnny. You were too focused on making soup that you didn't even hear him come in. He had a small smile on his face as he embraced you tightly in a loving way.
“I missed you so, so much.” Johnny said, his nose falling to the nape of your neck, tickling the flesh from his breath. His grip on your body tightening. Attempting to ignore the knot in your stomach, you hug him equally as hard, pulling slightly apart to place a small peck on his lips. A smile tugs to his lips.
“Whatcha’ makin’?” The scotsman asked you, peeking over your shoulder at the steaming pot.
“It's just some soup.” You replied with a small giggle.
“Would you like some?” You asked while looking up at him, his hands resting on your hips were driving you up a fucking wall. It was so good to see him, it really was. But man. The thoughts would not goddamn stop.
“Of course, bonnie.” Johnny said with a grin as he sat down at the bar stool across from where you were cooking. After a few minutes you pour both of yourselves a hot bowl of soup, serving it to him first.
“So…. How was your deployment?” You asked quietly before sipping on your meal. A grunt escaped his throat as he put down his spoon, a small sigh after.
“Well, I am scurnned. Ol’ man wouldn’t get off my arse about anything.” Johnny would complain before divining back into the soup bowl once more. It made you wonder. You wish that bowl was you at that moment. Clenching your thighs together under the table, you try to simmer yourself down.
“Did you–at least get what you were supposed to get?” You asked, attempting to push the image out of your mind before you too went in for another bite.
“Aye. We did, me and Ghost.” He replied with a small smirk.
“Not to brag, but yer boyfriend is a wee bit braver than others, bonnie.” His accent rolled off his tongue with a stoic and cocky expression before he finished devouring his bowl. He sits patiently waiting for you to finish yours as well. Johnny’s eyes were wandering you and you knew it too. That surely didn’t help how you were feeling and the pressure began to throb sensely. You shook it off, the man JUST got home, you thought you had to give sometime before indulging.
After finishing your own bowl, you get up, the wooden chair scraping against the tile flooring. Taking both of your bowls, you walk over to the sink and place them in there, rinsing them off. You couldn’t help but feel his eyes bore into your back as you washed the dishes. Then you were on your way to walk out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” Johnny’s voice asked you from behind. You swivel your body to his tone.
“Oh, uh well I was just gonna sit in the living room.” You replied with a raised eyebrow.
“I haven’t had any dessert yet?” Johnny asked in a kind of curious tone, after getting up from the chair, he was now walking towards you.
“I think we have some chocolates in the pantry if–” Cut off by a pair of warm lips against yours. A hand on your waist as he began to deepen the kiss, which only made you whine in his mouth and your eyes widen.
Leading you by your waist back to the kitchen counter top where he then lifted you onto to sit upon, not letting his lips tear apart from yours. He placed a free hand in your hair then parted away from your supple lips.
“Johnny?” You asked in question as to what he was doing, the knot returning to you. Your heart was racing a little bit more now as you looked to his eye level now. He seems to examine the kitchen counter top before returning his gaze back to yours with a smirk.
“I’ve spent months with outcha’, bonnie. I want yer lips on mine. I want to taste you in more ways than just yer tongue.” Johnny admitted as a hand slipped under your loose t-shirt, reaching just under your tit. An index finger just barely grazing the top of your already stiffened nipple, which instantly made your body pop with goose bumps.
The dampness between your already messy pussy was hiding in your soaked panties. He leaned you back onto the cold laminate of the kitchen counter top, looking down at you with satisfaction.
“Can I have my dessert now?” He pleaded while he looked at your face. It already grew hot the moment he placed his lips on yours, but now, you swear your face could be used as a hot iron. You nod in response, giving him simple permission. That was enough for both of his hands to slide your sweats down, then throw them on the floor.
His eyes were met with a scene. It made him rock hard instantly seeing the wet spot between your thighs and in your panties with him barely doing anything. Slithering one of his fingers at the hem of them, pushing them off smoothly, disregarding them on the floor. Johnny licked his rough fingers until there was a sleek shine on them before sliding them in with ease. It had been so long since you had some type of girth within you, forcing a yelp from your throat.
“Better than yours, bonnie?” He would ask in a rusky tone before leaning down and placing his lips around your pulsating clit. While pumping you full with just two fingers, he sucked and nibbled on your desperate clit. It was like you were ready to cum right on the spot. You look down at him who was enjoying the pretty sounds you made while he ate and fingered you. Without a warning, he put another finger in. 3 in total.
Your moans turned into whines and whimpers while you writhed on top of the counter top under him. He made sure to make a mental note of your sweet spots and your singing voice. He always loved how loud you’d get with him, he loved knowing that only he could make you sound like this.
“Please– Just, right there, right there,” You begged as he finally hit your spot. It almost felt like you were going to die by overstimulation even though it wasn’t his dick just yet. He continued moving at his own pace, making sure to give your clit attention as well as your hands tugged and pulled at his mohawk.
It had only just started and you already came around his fingers and tongue embarrassingly quick. Having a few heavy and fast breaths leave your chest, he lifted his head and looked at you between your thighs.
“You taste so good. I fucking missed my girl.” Johnny would purr, his hot breath against your pussy, licking his chaps like some wolf in heat. He wasn’t done, not even close.
“Let me have you.” He said more than asked for your permission. You give another small nod in response. Then your world flipped upside down when he turned you onto your stomach, your legs dangling off the counter top. How he missed the sight of your perfect ass in front of him.
He’d slap you hard once, watching your ass move to his touch, making him groan at the sight. It made you jolt to say the least.
“Such a pretty ass.” He’d whisper before placing both his hands on top of your butt, rubbing the skin slightly, just feeling you. Before you knew it, you could feel his twitching cock against your hot pussy. He’d rub against your slit, to prepare you before splitting you open. His tip would pop in soon after, making your body jerk at the feeling. It had been so long since you were dicked down.
He placed a hand on your hip for grip. A free hand grabbing a handful of your hair, making your back arch. Johnny stayed still with his tip resting into you, making sure you’d get adjusted to his cock once more since it had been a while.
Not for long though. Sliding inch by inch, he was finally balls deep. His tip was buried into your pussy, pushing into your cervix which earned you a grunt from him. How he loved stuffing his cock so deep into you, making your walls a mold for him and him only. He would pull your head back by the roots of your hair, so he could reach even deeper into you.
“Jesus–” Johnny would mutter as he almost felt his own eyes betray him by fluttering slightly, engulfed by your warmth around his sensitive cock. That’s when his breathing started to get heavier, more shallow, more ragged. His thrusts began soft and gentle, making sure to hear your singing voice again.
Your eyes widened at the feeling of you being stretched apart again, now by his cock. You loved being his pretty cock-hungry girl. He started with deep thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in slowly, just savoring the moment. You whined and whimpered. You were almost ashamed by how close you were close to cumming again.
“Im goin’ to fuck the shit out of my girl.” He said, pulling your hair again to bring your ear closer to his lips to make sure you heard him. You’d mewl as he continued to move at a steady pace, making sure to observe your shivering and trembling body underneath him.
Soft grumbles and groans escaped him as he fucked you nice and slow, plunging his cock so deep inside you, you weren’t sure if it’d come out. That’s when it happened, no warning, no words, no nothing before his hips began to slam into you. His hand moved from your hair to your throat just under your chin, his thumb resting on the inside of your mouth.
You’d wail and writhe under him as he pounded into you, bruising your cervix with his tip. His grip on your hip tightening, making sure to leave his hand print on you as a mark. Your slick pussy gives him access to sink into you. Your walls gripped onto his twitching cock.
“Yer such a good girl for me. Can you tell how much I missed you?” Johnny’s hot breath meeting with your ears as he whispered to you.
“Taking me so well, naughty girl.” He’d whisper as he fucked you stupid on your kitchen counter top. Liquid would seep down between your thighs and dribble down to your ankles. Your legs quivered as you felt him destroying you from the inside. Your eyes began to threaten to throw tears out of them, even as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head. Your tits bouncing up and down with each one of his thrusts.
You were melting under him and he made sure to make you hear how good you made him feel. Nibbling your ear, grunting into it somewhat loudly, some were more airy. He was definitely in a rut, especially from not fucking your tight cunt for so, so long. This was his first thought when he saw you cooking in the kitchen.
“Let me make you cum, bonnie.” He pleaded as his movements amped up more, faster and deeper within you. You didn't think it was possible, but here he was, pounding you so hard you were sure you’d have to call off of work for tomorrow. His thrusts were vigorous, making some of the plates and silverware on the countertop rattle under it. Your moans were becoming louder with each one as you were coming close to finishing.
Your walls clenched down on him harder as you came all around him, some ending up running down your thighs. He’d let you ride out your orgasm as he whispered sweet nothings to you.
“I'm going to breed you, naughty girl. Let me fill you.” He said with a gravely and hoarse voice as he was getting closer to painting your walls white. Your cervix was pierced from his dick, it was burning you from the inside. But what's fun without some pain? With one quick movement, he wrapped his toned arms around your ribcage, just under your tits. Then he gave a last forcible thrust and ended up cumming into you, filling you with his hot seed.
He’d stay with his cock buried deep inside you, making sure to get every last drop out before letting go of your ribcage with his arms. Some of his cum would leak down your thighs when it began escaping out, even with him inside. Johnny would slide himself out after a bit and you laid yourself on the countertop, panting.
He’d move over and lean over you, giving you soft reassuring kisses on your lips. Your body shivered and twitched even after his cum would spill out of you some more. You were a complete mess.
“I missed my girl so much.”
#mw2#114 x reader#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#call of duty#cod mw3#cod modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#modern warfare 2#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#soap cod#cod#call of duty mw2#modern warfare#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish x you#johnny soap mactavish#soap mactavish#mw2 2022#mw2 smut#cod smut#soap smut#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#141 x reader#141 smut#task force 141#call of duty smut
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Totally self indulgent but how would they help take care of a chronically ill partner? (Poly if you don't mind)
((also yes I am having a bad day))
I'm so sorry to hear you're having a bad day, baby, I wish I could be there to help you through it :( These speedrun headcanons just for you are the least I could do, of course. I tried to keep it general enough without making it about any particular disease, because at the end of the day, whatever you're going through, they will be there for you no matter what.
CW: gn!reader with unspecified chronic illness, thus mentions of medical themes, medications, treatments, doctors and some things our bodies go through, symptoms and such. Also some controlling/soft dom/caretaker behaviour I guess, but without dabbling into CGL territory. Last paragraph is suggestive, but not explicit.
So, with any chronic disease, there are better days and worse days, ups and downs, and sometimes bad days happen unpredictably, sometimes you can kinda feel them coming, sometimes you just know that whatever you just did, be it going out all night for the concert of your favourite music band or just spoiling yourself with food you know will fuck you up but tastes too good to pass - and throughout all that your four partners stay attentive and vigilant.
Each and every one of them (even Soap, however unlikely) knows the importance of routine. They're military, they have no problem adhering to the same set of regular actions - as well as reacting to sudden changes and giving immediate appropriate response. Honestly, they're pretty damn good as caretakers, once they get clear in structions on what needs to be done.
Price goes with you to doctor appointments and all the treatment you need outside home. He's driving you there, waiting at the door (maybe eavesdropping while he pretends to fall asleep in the uncomfortable chair with his chin tucked and his hat laying in his lap. maybe actually falling asleep and waking up with horrifying neck cracking), asking a hundred questions after the doctor lets you out - to the point where it starts to look more like an interrogation. He does want to know everything, though, since only with full information on hands he can assess the situation and work out a plan of action. He wants to know what's the status, what meds you need to take and for what, how often, what side effects are possible, what else needs to be done - he makes your doctor give him a full on lecture, even if you already explaind half of that to them all previously. After he gets what he wanted from the poor medic, he still pulls on some strings to get you seen by specialists he's confident in. Sure, your doc might've been treating you for god knows how long, but a second (a third and maybe even fourth) opinion won't hurt, right?
Ghost gets your (and everyone else's, because Price fucked up his joints and spine more times than it's acceptable, Gaz has allergies and Soap needs his adderall. Ghost himself takes half of the pharmacy's supply, poor guy's messed up in all kinds of way) meds and also makes sure you and the boys take them regularly, especially if they're the type to be taken strictly on time. He brings your morning pills to you in bed with water and a little sandwich if you need to take them not on empty stomach, and if he has to be out at the time you need them, he always sends you a reminder - and expects you to report to him quickly, otherwise he's calling you and then one of the guys that can come and make sure you're being good. If you're having a bad head day and can't make yourself take these fucking pills that can't even "fix" you (or whatever bad thoughts you're having), Simon's going extremely soft - he just sits next to you and feeds you one pill after another, kissing you for every one you swallow, and then does same with his stash, "demanding" rewarding kisses from you with an adorably serious face. He knows better than anyone how much needing to do this every damn day can fuck with your mind, so he's patient, but he can't let you neglect yourself.
(Soap gets no such treatment, if that little shit tries to wiggle his way out of taking his meds, they get shoved into his mouth. He still gets his rewarding kiss, though, with Ghost's steel grip on his jaw, and this honestly looks like Simon tries to kill him via sucking his internal organs out of his mouth. Mind end up sucking something else-)
Gaz is just steadily making everything he can as accomodating as possible. If your headaches make you sensitive to smells, he makes sure nothing in the house can cause a bad reaction, he watches everyone's allergies, buys groceries to fit your diet and makes sure other products like soap or cleaning supplies won't be bad to you. He's the one who will find non-constraining clothes out of fabric that won't irritate your body - very stylish and just how you lik them, he's looking into furniture and appliances that can make it easier to deal with if you're in pain or can't hold shit properly because of joint pain (not only for you, Price and Ghost both get days when their knuckles hurt LIKE HELL). He might've had experience caring for a relative, or maybe he's just extremely good at research, but he just comes up with solutions you didn't even know could help.
Soap is the service dog. He's ready to run any errand, pick up every task you give him, provide immediate help as soon as you call for him. He's cuddling you through flares, fetching blankets or tea, literally catching you if you suddenly get a horrible cramp and fold in half. This man will go to the bathroom with you and keep you steady while you throw up, or literally kneel on the tile floor and wipe your tears if you get really bad bowel problems. He's seen people get shredded into pieces and watched their internal organs become external, he won't be put off by anything a human body can do. None of them will, to be honest, but Soap is just always the first to hold your hand through whatever hell you're going through.
But the other thing Soap does - is make you feel normal. He's not tiptoeing around you, treating you like a fragile doll that can't be played with, no; he'll fucking prank you, tease you, rile you up and haunt you as long as it makes you smile and helps you forget about that thing that impacts you every day while other people get to live without it. He's your personal hospital clown, and honestly, if you need to go to hospital, he might actually sneak inside in a clown costume (how the fuck did no one see and stop a huge ass man with a honking red nose and rainbow onesie walking through the corridors?) and entertain you. His family never let him feel like he was different despite the obvious struggles he faced with his ADHD (that wasn't diagnosed straight away too and went unmedicated for quite some time), and he'd rather die than let you feel like you're missing out on all the fun life has to offer because some days you can't even leave your bed as your body acts out.
They watch your diet and find ways to make it as diverse as possible, no matter how limited it is. Gaz is the one who makes groceries lists and often goes shopping, but all four of them take turns cooking (a man's place is in the kitchen, even if it gets cramped with all four of these dudes there) and experimenting with food. Gaz is the best cook by far, and the second to best is surprisingly Soap! Price actually isn't all that inventive in the kitchen (he just knows what he likes and doesn't venture out much, but what he does he does well), and Ghost... his main culinary innovations are in the stupid smiley faces and skulls he makes out of everything. How did he manage that with soup? I dunno, ask him.
They know your patterns and habits, sometimes they can tell the illness will flare before even you do, from the subtle changes in your appearance or behaviour. Maybe you're sweating just a little too much today and Gaz saw the stains on your shirt while doing the laundry, or your heartrate is off under Ghost's sharp ear as he nestles into his favourite place in the world - your arms. Perhaps Price noticed you ate not enough of your breakfast or Soap grabs your hand and feels it's colder than should be.
First thing they do is check in with you - Ghost is extremely straightforward and demanding about it, making you recite what you did recently that could cause a flare and asking you all about how you're feeling; Soap slips into worry immediately and starts with a question what he can do for you. Gaz goes a sly route, tugging you away from whatever you were doing, snuggling with you on the bed or the couch and peppering you with kisses, purring into your ear sweet nothings mixed with questions until he coaxes all the information from you. Price doesn't even ask at first: he immediately goes into action, the most basic care provided before he even says anything.
They do listen to you, though. If you're not feeling the worst and don't need immediate help, they just stay around to watch after you, but always communicate to others that extra care might come in handy today. Probably still try to convince you to go easy with your tasks, be it studying, work or chores, and help with whatever they can.
However, if it is bad, you kinda lose autonomy. Work? Forget about it. Chores are on them for the next week, no exceptions. You're lifted off your feet and brought to bed by Soap, everything arranged into a comfortable way by Gaz by the time they carefully lower you there. If you need to sit up to lessen the symptoms, they put pillows behind your back, but Soap prefers when he can cradle you against his chest and serve as a heat pillow himself - especially if his hot hands can make tummy or joint pain better. But if heat is the thing you don't need at all, he'll stay next to you, ready to jump at your first word.
Meds and water in Ghost's hand, waiting for you to take them patiently. While Price takes care of your unfinished business (and makes sure you won't go to work/school/uni next few days), Gaz ensures your body is taken care of - maybe you need a gentle massage or just sweat and teares wiped off, he's there, cooing at you and kissing your skin gently.
If you need bathroom, you're getting carried there, but if it's just to throw up, Soap's already got a bucket at the ready, and he and Gaz will support your body through the nausea, another glass of water appearing with silent Ghost by the end of it.
You're getting all the entertainment you want: Gaz and Soap will only be happy if you want to play computer games with them (or, if you can't, you can just watch them, and they'll goof around to keep your mind off your state). You want to continue that book you're reading, but it's hard to hold it and your eyes hurt? No audiobooks while you have Price there, he'll read you aloud. A movie? Hell yeah they'll all gather around with whatever snacks you can digest at the moment and watch whatever you want (and if Ghost or Price fall asleep, you can prank them via Sergeants' proxy).
Some other little things:
They all either quit smoking or make sure it doesn't affect you even with the smell.
Price keeps on top of all your vaccines and screenings. Don't even need to remember them, he can wake up in the middle of the night and recite all of the needed information. Can get quite strict and controlling if you try to get out of appointments - and also spends almost unhealthy amount of time reseatching what else can be done, including trying all kinds of experimental treatments and some not even fully scientific ones (like acupuncture. who fucking knows, eh?)
Ghost is the best out of all of your men to confide in when the illness takes toll on your mental health. He knows what drowning in your mind feels like, and he'll be there to reach out a hand and keep you afloat. He's actually good with words on these topics, and his voice grounds you - but if you need silent companionship or a firm chest to sob into, he can provide that too.
Soap actually often gets angry about your condition - not at you, of course, but the sheer unfairness of his beloved person suffering with no end, no matter how much all four boys do for you, weighs on him. The others might have caught him actually crying in the middle of letting steam off in the gym, he hates being powerless against a fucking disease.
Gaz loves when you let him take care of your body and appearance. Be it simply helping you take a bath/shower, shaving if you want but can't manage, brushing your hair for you, massaging oils, lotions or ointments into your skin... if you feel self-conscious about your appearance on flare days, he will obviously reassure you with other boys (as if they wouldn't love you in any condition, for fuck's sake, they're here because you make them feel the happiest they've ever been, not because you look like a model 24/7), but if it will make you feel better, he'll help you with a nice hairdo that won't burden your scalp, dress you up prettily, helping you put on every clothing piece with reverent kisses along the way, and do your makeup if you do it. Will he join you in all that and get all pretty too? Hell yeah! Might even catch Soap and get him dolled up too.
And finally, you won't find more accommodating people for intimacy. Whatever your limits are, they're never crossing them, choosing positions you won't feel uncomfortable in, being careful not to overwhelm you, discussing everything you want to try in sex with possible complications in mind. They're fine not doing anything at all; they're fine with doing no penetration; they're fine with extensive foreplay... definitely using all kinds of devices to make the experience better for you. Potentially asking your doctor questions on what's okay and what's not, even if you're screaming not to, lol.
They just love you, and they're ready to take everything off your shoulders as soon as you need it.
Hope you feel better soon, lovie <3
#task force 141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#price x reader#ghost x reader#soap cod#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#price cod#captain john price#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick#call of duty#cod#headcanons#cod headcanons
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hi!! i hope you’re doing well<3 can i req maybe some bunny reader n owner price with also some owner simon n puppy Soap?? soap meeting prices sweet bunny boy for the first time?? please ignore if you’re uncomfortable with this!!
also have a great trip!! 🩷🩷
aghs eating this idea rn cause gdksgdkshis tysm for the ask darlingg !! 🩶🩶 I’ll try have a great trip but ima be so busy:(( its gonna be super pretty tho so thas good :))
would anyone want a pt.2 maybe ? :]
ALSO WTF THANK YOU SO MYCH FOR 200 FOLLOWERS M GONNA SOB 🫶🏻🫶🏻
// CW : tm!reader , praise , doggy , lots of hair pulling , degradation , creampie , aftercare
Your ears twitch softly atop your head as you sit on Prices lap, slightly curled up with Prices large hands stroking your large floppy ears. The anxiety is radiating from you with your twitches, your nose, tail and ears give away your slightly hyperactive behaviour whilst you gaze at the duo in-front of you curiously. A large puppy hybrid with a mohawk called Johnny, who is grinning sloppily at you and his owner, Simon, who’s staring down at you curiosity is shown on his face slightly.
Soap can’t help it when his dick hardens in his sweats:( you’re just too cute bunny, so fucking sweet to look at with your soft ears and twitching nose.. Your eyes are glued to his crotch when you notice the bulge, Price smirks when he notices what your attention is on, moving to murmur in your ear “You like the look of Johnny’s cock bunny? What?.. What is it lovie.. You want it don’t you?-“ your blush is prominent which makes all the men laugh “Oh my little whore is so needy huh.. so flustered…”
Whilst John is talking both Soap and Simon make their way towards you, their smugness shown on their handsome faces as Soaps tail wags rapidly, his arousal and excitement showing as he basically vibrates with energy, just itching to get his hands on you, to taste you on his tongue and to feel you clench around his cock. His face is inches away from yours as he finally stops moving, his lips pulled into a smirk as his hands move to hold you, his large hands gripping your waist as his eyes gaze hungrily at your lips, “Soap, calm down..” Is all Ghost can bring himself to say, mesmerised and turned on by the obvious tension between you and his Johnny.
But Soap can’t help but disobey his owner.. his mouth meeting yours in a passionate kiss, filled with teeth and light biting. The soft assault on your lips makes your tail shake as you moan softly into Johnny’s mouth gripping his ears and tugging on them, your hips grinding lightly on Soap’s leg. The action makes Simon grin, inching ever closer, looming over both you and Price, who is just sat back lazily watching his bunny get used and played with. Simon’s hand moves slowly between your legs, as it touches your soft thighs you jump, goosebumps litter your skin due to Ghost’s cold fingers.
Your dumb bunny brain just completely shuts off as soon as you feel Simon’s fingers on your soaked hole and dick.. Whimpering into Soaps mouth loudly whilst Price tugs your ears and two of Simon’s massive fingers worm their way into your tight hole, your juices make the intrusion so much easier. Your whines are like music to the men, even with Soap’s mouth muffling them. The rhythm Ghost starts is surprisingly soft, but once he realises you can take it, his resolve shatters as he hears your sweet sweet moans and your quiet mumbles of “please.. harder.. can take it fuck… sir.. Please..” and something shifts in Simon, something primal. His fingers roughly slide in and out of your cunt, your tugs on Soap’s ears only grow harsher with the increased pleasure but Johnny only laughs and groans. His eyes flutter shut with every tug.
Your legs shake slightly, pushing away Soap softly as you grab Simon’s wrist, leaning against your owners body as your eyes roll back and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, Price holds your waist as your body shakes from the pure intensity of Simon’s fingers in you. As soon as your eyes are open again, Soap is on you, pulling you off Prices lap and onto the floor carefully, manhandling you until you are on all fours, your back arched and face pressed against the hard wooden floors.
Simon can’t help the appreciative groan that leaves his mouth from the sight of your bare arse in front of him, Price only gazes down at you pulling on your fluffy ears until you make eye contact with him. “You look so good like this bunny, perfect little slut for us to play with huh?” Price smirks down at you, the grip on your ears tight.
Your eyes widen as you feel Soap’s thick dick against your sopping hole, the eye contact with John is intense whilst Soap thrusts into you. Your breath is punched out of you with every thrust, Johnny’s tail whacks against the floor as he moans. The symphony of sounds the both of you are making is enough to get both Simon and Price rubbing their dicks through their pants. “Fuck bonnie.. good boy.. g-good bunny-fuck..” Soap mumbles, completely pussy drunk, chasing his pleasure with his fingers playing with your hard cock.
Your legs are quivering, your eyes rolling back as your arms give out, the only thing holding you up is Price’s hold on your ears. He can’t help but laugh at how fucked out and sensitive you are, already cumming around Johnny’s thick dick. Your cunt clenching around him tightly, causing his hips to stutter, his orgasm brought on by your own as his cum spurts inside you. Your eyes focus back in, your soul feels like its returned back to your body whilst you get wrapped up in Simon’s arms. He is just holding you softly as John grabs you and Johnny some water. “Just rest bun, me and John will have our fun soon enough..” He says, kissing the top of your head.
#x trans male reader#cod x reader#cod x male reader#x transmasc reader#cod smut#cod fanfic#ghost smut#simon riley x reader#soap smut#john price smut#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#captain price x reader#captain price smut#ghost x you#cas speaks
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FNAF but you are a Rhodes Island canteen staff on a night shift trying to prevent Ceobe from raiding the kitchen .
It's a late night at the Rhodes Island canteen, the Elite Operators have an early deployment, and supplies are looking adequate... That is, as long as no incident occurs. Unfortunately for whoever is on shift, Rhodes Island is well known for its late night incidents, incarnated in nefarious individuals whose gluttony eclipses even the most furious of Catastrophes... And the Elite OPs are not going to be happy campers if they can't get their calories for their arduous missions...
--Five Nights At Rhodes!--
Your objective is to protect the delicious ingredients in the pantry from morally bankrupt evildoers that would greedily consume all they can get their hungry little pizza fingers on! Play as one of four culinary heroes to keep those fiends away from the Elite's caloric intake, or face the crushing guilt of seeing Rosmontis go hungry with a rumbling tummy!
The Centurions of Flavor:
Gummy
"The sign clearly says 'Ceobe not allowed', why are you still coming in!"
Known for world-class fried eggs and a healing enthusiasm, this Ursine Defender isn't just a soothing smile to have around, and can use her very own Reinforced Door to fully restore and strengthen one of the doors to the pantry! No means no!
Matterhorn
"Ethan, seriously, you can just ask for a sandwich... You're messing our inventory of available ingredients if you take them on the down low!"
Bodyguard, enforcer, butler, and renowned chef, Matterhorn works with the finest Kjerag ingredients, and knows a thing or two about keeping unwanted company out with his Sublime Sandwich, which can temporarily distract would-be interlopers with its peerless taste and aroma!
Kal'tsit
"If you want something done right, sometimes you have to do it yourself... Especially when the would-be crisis jeopardizes the stock of instant noodles in such dire and relentless a fashion."
The boss always has your back in Rhodes Island, and this emergency deployment is no exception! Any logistic is an important logistic! With her Spinal Assistant, Kal'tsit can order Mon3tr to hold one door while she holds the other one! There's no getting a fast one in on this Feline!
Just A Canteen Staffer
"I literally just work here."
With no special abilities to speak of, well... It's going to be a long, long night.
Crooked Adversaries:
Ravenous Hellhound
The nefarious nibler, infamous for her indignant disregard for signaling, reviled for her Indomitable March: What she lacks in tricks, she makes up for in pure perseverance, relentlessly trying to force her way in no matter how many times she's repelled. The countless signals that say "Ceobe Not Allowed" are said to be a ward against the Hellhound. A useless ward, that is.
Renegade Interloper
He moves like the shadow of a ghost, a feared culinary assassin that will make your ingredients and food vanish into the misty night, leaving behind no trace. This Persistence Predator will oftentimes camp outside a door almost completely invisible, waiting for your guard to grow lax. If one pays close attention, however, one might discern small ripples in space where there should be none, or hear a faint music from the Interloper's treasured earbuds...
Prowling Miscreant
The hunter's creed is that a mighty beast is only as strong as its weakest point, and her eye is already trained on the canteen... And the habits of its handlers. You'll be Drawing Dead the moment you think you have a leg up on the Miscreant, as she'll first observe your habits, and then continuously attempt entry from the routes you neglect the most, usually by syncing up with the advance of other Adversaries.
The Ghost of Babel
Feared for their truly wild consumption habits and seemingly unmatched ability to find their way into the pantry, this hooded enigma's wiry, fragile frame betrays their supernatural wiles. This unique Adversary doesn't move in the same way as the others, instead wandering the Area seemingly randomly, concocting their Magnum Opus by collecting all sorts of information and intel that we can't even begin to comprehend. If this is completed, then the Ravenous Hellhound will turn into a creature only known as "Golden Ceobe" and become completely unstoppable. Due to their timid nature, however, they can only work towards the Opus by being in a calm state of mind, achieved by not being observed for a period of time.
The full game COMING SOON to all stores in Columbia, Victoria, Great Yan, not Gaul, and Leithanien! Don't miss out on all these Centurions and Adversaries! Preorder now and get a code to an early download of the DLC Centurions [Fiammetta Who Aggressively Doesn't Want To Be Here] and [Just A Canteen Staffer the Holungday], as well as early access to the challenging DLC Adversaries [Scary Guy] and [D.I.D.I.]!
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