#cod x reader

[tojisteddy]

Simon Ghost Riley’s interests were a bit… different.

Not weird. Maybe nerdy? This is besides the rock collection he’s been building up since he was a kid, and besides the plethora of Lego sets he still loves to build (he doesn’t have shit else to blow cash on, why not?) and besides the knife collection—

Simon Riley has played this extremely adorable yet addicting puzzle game that has a very well known and loved mascots. He doesn’t even remember how he got into the game, but it’s been 3 years playing the game now and perhaps the collection of cute stuffed animals and stickers on his home laptop has— accumulated. Maybe too much

So when there’s a collab with his favorite video game at his favorite cafe, and with a strike of luck wins the raffle for players over level 100— of course Simon Ghost Riley is at the event!

And early at that.

Well— maybe he was sitting at the cafe near by. So stand off ish, in all black, mask on with a cap, no one could see the three collector item kitty cat keychains he had on. Too nervous to wait in line and look out of place, his knee bouncing up and down, phone clutched tight in his hand. Eyes stuck on the growing line, the cute pink, purple and blue’s of the decorations— he loved it. But could he really go in? By himself?

And he’s lucky you walk by, a little ditzy and absentminded, if you hadn’t so loudly gasped and asked if he was going to the cafe next door— someone probably would’ve asked him to leave the premises.

You slap your hand over your mouth, “Sorry, that was loud. But I saw the purple ticket on the table! You have to get in line to get a good seat like… now! Or all the influencers will take your spot.”

His ears burn red, scratching his hair, “Yeah, But… it’s a little-“

“—You like it, don’t you?”

Simon eyes widen a little, “Well, yeah.”

“Then you should enjoy it to the fullest! Dont worry about what other people think!”

And Simon doesn’t even fully register it all, you’re taking his hand and helping him up, “We can sit together! Double the fun when it’s two people, it’s true!” You give him that jaw dropping smile that has his stomach feel like it’s about to flip. A new reason to be nervous taking over.

But he’s thankful for how headstrong you are nonetheless, got a perfect seat by the window with you, got to try to new sweet treats and drinks while thankful the mask he had covering his face his mask to hide the amounts of times he gushed at the cute items and how cute you looked across from him, giggling and taking pictures with and for him. Got a bag full of new merch, a long with a friend to finally talk about his hidden hobby with.

a/n: alt ending where they… “get to know each other” in the car after the event, your face all pressed into his hoodie that smells like him and licking and biting up his neck while he helps you grind your hips against his hard on through his pants . Your panties creating a stain the more your roll your hips, can feel his chub poking you through your sticky folds, don’t even remember how he got that Jean skirt that went to your ankles off of you, but Simon likes how good you look a little disheveled, biting your lip as you say his name that’s still fresh to you in barley a whisper. And Simon can’t help but let out low groan after low groan, the way your ass feels in his calloused hands, how hot you look in that shirt of his favorite mobile game practically squeezing your tits, the way you keep pulling away from kisses to look into his dark brown eyes that match yours— you’ve got the man hooked.

No puzzle game.

[soliloquysoph]

being married to Simon as a lieutenant in the navy- requested by @wolfiemagic :)

no warnings!

-

It wasn’t uncommon for the navy to get calls from other branches to assist in missions overseas but it was uncommon for it to be your husband’s unit. You hadn’t seen each other in about a week, you were out on a ship patrolling the ocean and Simon was on a mission.

You stood out on the flight deck, shielding your eyes from the sun as a dark helicopter appoaches. It touches down and out hops 141, greeting you all politely. Except for Simon. He doesn’t greet you with a ‘maam’ like everyone else, just a nod and a look only you catch.

“Thank you for lettin’ us stay here while we gather our bearings,” Price interrupts your thoughts with a light pat to your shoulder. “Weren’t expecting Makarov to be hiding out at sea this time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Captain. Happy to help.” You give him a smile and begin escorting them inside to the war room where they could think up a new strategy. You hold the door open for them and are about to go in yourself when someone calls for Lieutenant Riley.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

Both you and Simon respond at the same time, confusing the sergeant that called out for a moment. Price, Soap and Gaz all stop and look in your direction as well, just as confused.

“Uh- this Lieutenant Riley, sir,” the sergeant clarifies as she points to you. “Captain’s up in the control room asking for you. Something about the radar?”

“Alright, I’ll be right there.” You nod, smiling as she leaves and you excuse yourself from the others. “Well duty calls, you’re free to use the room as long as you’d like. Call me if anything, yeah?” Then you pause, looking at Simon. “Lieutenant Riley.” You give him a stifled laugh and a short nod before taking your leave.

Soap opens his mouth to question Simon but he’s quickly shut up with one look from him. They quickly forget about the matter and get to strategizing, hours passing before they finish and decide to go get some food. They find their way to the cafeteria and get their trays piled up, claiming a table towards the back of the room. You come over some minutes later with a clipboard and an air of positivity that only the navy could have.

“Good evening gentlemen, I had some rooms cleared out for you to stay in as long as you need. There were only three single rooms available though, so Garrick, MacTavish and Price you all get your own. Riley you’re with me.”

“I’m sorry, what the fock is goin on here?” Soap blurts out, squinting at you. “Ye got the same name and then ye tell ‘im he’s in yer room, ye two know each other?”

“Somethin like that, Johnny,” Simon shrugs and holds his hand out for you to hand him the room key.

“Somethin- aye LT she’s a married woman, have some respect. Ye ain’t see the ring?”

“I know, I bought it.” The others look dumbstruck at the revelation, never before having even a hint that Simon was with someone, much less married. They all look at you and you just nod in agreement, taking out a small photo from your pocket of you and Simon on your wedding day.

The whole rest of their time on the ship they wouldn’t stop asking you questions and yelling at Simon for never mentioning you. Then they invited themselves over to your house after the mission for a “family dinner”.

[huh-i-guess]

Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel!

(Captain John Price x F!reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley)

Summary: A tipsy Halloween night out with the 141 has you craving your commanding officers, who both happen to be dressed as one of the sexiest slashers.

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), dub-con bc of Alcohol, dirty filthy nasty dancing, mask kink, size kink, grinding, freaked out thoughts, reader loves pink and is feminine, unedited but also a rewrite

WC: ~ 4.6K

The five of you walked into the dimly lit club and were immediately engulfed with the sounds of an entrancing beat that dictated the flow of the crowd ahead of you. 

You, Soap, and Gaz had done a number of shots before leaving base under the amused gazes of your two commanding officers. Soap and Gaz were tied, each downing 6 shots, while you’d only been able to stomach 4 and kind of a half. You knew that if you’d had anymore in that short span of time, the boys might have to carry you out of the club.

It was Halloween night and the boys had all decided to dress as figures from classic horror films. Soap had decided to emulate Chucky, with a bright striped shirt, a pair of overalls and a cheap red halloween wig. Gaz felt that the Candyman might have been a good fit, so he tugged on a faux fear coat from who knows where, and donned a plastic hook for a hand. Your commanding officers however? The two had decided that Ghostface was the best fitting costume, seeing that there was almost always a duo behind the classic slasher. It was the quickest costume to get into. 

You, on the other hand, were absolutely sick of being in camo, stiff pants, t-shirts, and boots, so you decided to be a fairy. 

A bright pink fairy. 

You ordered the cutest flowy wig you could find, a pink flower crown, a sparkly pink mini skirt, a danceable baby pink pair of heels, a pair of pink wings, and a fluffy pink top that ruffled around your hips like the petals of a flower. You went all out with your makeup; layered on the blush, faux freckles, various shades of pink eyeshadow, lashes, and a soft neutral lip. 

To say you looked gorgeous was an understatement. You felt soft and feminine and surprisingly none of your teammates heckled you for being pretty in pink.

A part of you wondered what the club goers thought as they watched the lot of you walking in. A bright pink fairy with a group of slashers at her side.

Intimidating or ironic?

The cold air from outside barely had an impact on you, Gaz, and Johnny since the 3 of you felt a layer of warmth stemming from the liquor in your system.

 The group found a booth that was tucked into a corner next to the dancefloor with clear visualization of all entry and exit points. You dropped your purse off at the table with the boys and made it your mission to lay eyes on the bar.

Once your eyes landed on the packed counter, you buzzed through the crowd in long confident strides, with a smile plastered on your face, and a bundle of  “excuse me’s” ready on the tip of your tongue. You squeezed your way through the bunch of people crowding the bar and rested an arm on the polished wood, readying yourself to order a round for the table.

You just barely flipped your hair off of one shoulder when your gaze landed on a tall, ever imposing ghostface making his way toward you. The liquor running through your system blurred your ability to make distinctions between who was Price and who was Simon. The black drapes that flowed over the man’s body ruined any chance of you clocking any distinguishing features. You’d hoped that the man would say something, so you could place his identity. 

Your lidded eyes traced their way down his massive body as he stopped and stood behind you, clearly at the ready like a guard dog. He pushed just a bit further forward so that he was right next to you leaning on the wooden counter. 

It wasn’t difficult for the man to take notice of the way your hazy eyes trailed down his body. 

Subtlety and drunkenness never mixed well, so your mind wandered. 

Either man could be perched next to you as your mind ruffled through a list of their shared traits. They were both large and intimidating and their presences had already commanded any room they entered. Being masked and swallowed by a sea of black increased the intimidation factor tenfold. 

Simon being masked was completely normal and had grown on you, but in the beginning it was unnerving and a point of anxiety for you, not being able to distinguish features and all. You'd grown to rely on reading his body language. Simon’s commitment to being masked had grown on you so much that you’d had a number of dreams of him masked, geared up and breathless, pressing into you.

The liquor was starting to warm your body in other ways and standing next to the unidentifiable behemoth of a man fluttered something deep inside of you. 

You hadn’t even realized that you were still staring at the man with lazy, doe-like eyes and your bottom lip tugged between your teeth. Your gaze flicked up toward his eyes and a warmth flushed through your face as you realized you’d been caught. 

You cleared your throat and flipped your hair in his direction with a soft smile and asked, “You playing babysitter tonight?”

His head tilted a bit under your stare and the action had you remembering what your purpose for being at the bar was. Before he could respond you turned and attempted to wave down one of the bartenders that was bouncing back and forth like a pinball in a machine.

“Depends. How much you plan on drinkin’?” He huffed and moved a step closer to you so that the sides of your hips bumped into each other. The closeness allowed him to rest his gloved hand along the small of your back. 

The palm on your back that was almost inappropriately close to your ass, covered a considerable amount of space and was warm as a furnace.

The touch had you wondering what it would feel like if he dipped it just a bit lower and cupped the plush flesh that sat just below. 

You pulled your lip harder between your teeth as your mind painted a picture of the gloved extremity sliding upward and around your neck or dipping even lower underneath your skirt. 

You should have been making an effort to find out who the voice belonged to and not fantasizing about the size of his hands. Your cloudy mind and the music around you made it hard to pinpoint how deep the voice was and whether or not it was a Manchester or London accent. 

He held his other arm out in front of him with his card in hand, name facing away from you and the bartender almost immediately turned his attention to the mountain of a man next to you. Your thighs clenched at how easily his action commanded attention.

“What can I get you, boss?” The bartender's gaze was locked onto your teammate but that black, masked gaze was frozen onto you, chin just barely jutting toward you as he waited for you to respond. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the action before you moved to answer the man.

“3 shots of Tequila and 2 bourbons, please.” The bartender nodded his head, went to work before grabbing the man’s card. 

The hand resting on your back rubbed a small affirming circle, before you felt a soft pat above your bottom and then a complete removal of the paw. You had to fight a whine from leaving your mouth at the loss of touch.

The length of time between your last passionate, touch filed escapade and now had left you absolutely craving any and every form of touch. It didn’t help that Price was always physically affectionate; a pat on the back here, a curt side hug there, a quick grab and shake of your shoulders as he applauded you for a job well done. His touch was always strictly platonic but your desperation had you searching for more. 

Simon on the other hand had to warm up to touching you but once he started he never stopped. You’d noticed he’d always find an excuse to get his hands on you but it was always under the guise of being work related. He’d always been thorough in checking your gear, yanking you in every direction he chose, warm hands checking the harness straps wrapped around your thighs and behind. It had always been done with a dark chuckle as he’d teased you for how flustered the action made you. He’d be quick to steady you on the heli as a soft apology slipped from your lips at the tough take off. He’d only ever reply with a deep hum and a firm squeeze to your shoulders. He’d grab your hips to yank you out of enemy fire instead of opting to use the straps on your gear and maybe even go as far as ruffling your hair when you popped off your helmet in safe zones. The type of touching that was taking place tonight was lingering and maybe even charged, but most definitely not innocent. That’s what your mind has told you at least.

“Good girl then.” The man hummed from next to you, appeased that you’d remembered his drink order. An aching want shot through you at the statement and your body lulled as your mind painted pictures of ways you could earn his praise. 

A quick flash of a hand in your hair, pulling, hard. 

A thought of a low voice groaning in your ear as you straddled and rocked on top of a set of solid hips. 

An image of your back pressed against a thick, solid body that rumbled and huffed with every press of their pelvis to yours. 

A choked gasp from a set of pink lips as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead. No.

 A choked gasp from a set of pink lips tucked behind a thick beard as you swallowed around a thick, leaking cockhead. 

You were ripped from your lust and liquor fueled thoughts as the man bumped his hips into yours to get your attention. He hummed next to you, his hands gripping the tequila shots and with a quick jerk of his head, he motioned for you to grab the bourbons.

 The two of you turned away from the bar as he led the way over to where the rest of the team sat in the booth. They were already joking and laughing in their varying states of inebriation. 

Just as you thought, the crowd parted for the man without any hesitation or effort from him. 

When the two of you reached the table, Soap’s face had a slight flush to it, almost giving him a doll-like appearance that fit well with his costume. A light sheen of sweat began coating Gaz’s skin as it appeared he was fighting a battle between the liquor filled heat and the actual heat from the pelt that covered him. The other Ghostface, Ghostface #2, had his arms folded over his chest as he softly shook his head at a slightly slurred, heavily accented comment that fell from Soap.

Gaz’s attention landed on the pair of you walking over, “Ah yes! That’s what I’m talking about.” he clapped as you and Ghostface #1 placed the drinks down.

“A sight for sore eyes, you two are.” Soap chirped, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. 

You passed one glass of bourbon over to Ghostface #2 with a floaty smile and then tapped your hip against Ghostface #1’s while you moved his drink to his hands. You, Soap, and Gaz all moved to grab your shots with dopey, inebriated smiles on your faces. 

“Here's to those who wish us well, and those who don't can go to hell!”” You said as you raised your glass to the sky, smiling as your team cheered in agreement, clinked their drinks down on the table and threw the shots back with rough jerks of their heads. 

The Ghostfaces just barely tilted their masks up their faces and a small huff fell from your lips as your eyes strained in the dim light as you attemopted to see who was who. The light and the liquor tag teamed your struggle as you failed to see which one of them had a beard. As you lowered the shot glass to the table, shaking your body to fight the burn of liquor going down your throat, the song playing over the speakers shifted to a bouncy, higher tempo with a heavy bassline that had your hips moving with a mind of their own. A cheesy smile spread across your painted lips and a satisfied sigh fell from your lips as you patted Ghostface #1 Ghostface #2 on the shoulder with a nod of your head.

“If you guys need me, I’ll be dancing in there. Somewhere.” You motioned to the dance floor with a thumbs up and turned on your heels while swaying your hips to the beat. 

You swayed and rocked to the beat while you shuffled your way through the crowd until you were almost at the center. Your gaze was just a bit hazy as you took in your surroundings.

The crowd was a mass of shapes and colors. And animals too? It was Halloween so you shouldn’t have been surprised to see an inflatable T-Rex’s head bouncing and shifting through the sea of people. 

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself and you closed your eyes, letting the fuzziness of being tipsy take over you as you started to feel the bass that was flooding through the speakers. Your body had already started moving as you bopped to the rhythm. 

The center of the crowd was hot and packed but the people around you gave you enough space to dance alone without smacking someone with your wings. The music had you entranced on the floor. Hair was swishing, wings bouncing, and your shirt flowed with your movement as you swayed. 

You felt like you had not one care in the world. With the nature of your job, being in a crowd like this would have normally made you uncomfortable. You’d become used to being hypervigilant, overcritical, and overthinking, but something tonight told you to let yourself unwind. With some liquid courage, you let yourself kick back, hoping to enjoy yourself. Very rarely do you let yourself get this drunk, but it’s one of your favorite holidays and you’ve been working so hard these past few months.

Price smokes his cigars and sips his bourbon every chance he gets, Johnny and Gaz get blackout in the rec room watching rom-coms biweekly, and Simon… already has way too many unhealthy coping mechanisms to count so you are more than welcome to get drunk and dance around every once in a while. Plus if shit hit the fan, the guys would get you out of there in no time. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you told them that tonight you were turning your mind off, and they listened.

You swayed and rocked to the beat, feeling light as a feather in the center of the crowd, like you were locked in your own little world before you felt a solid, warm presence at your back.

The liquor was already taking control so instead of looking behind you to see who had pushed themselves onto you, you leaned into the warmth. You’d missed the feel of a warm body behind you, so you rocked your hips to the rhythm. 

Hopefully the man wasn’t planning on just standing behind you, stiff as a board. You reached behind you and placed your hands on his hips, hoping to get him to move in time with you and the beat. The figure behind you slowly began to rock to the beat of the music, tensely, like he hadn’t danced in a while, but on beat enough for you to rock with him. 

A gloved pair of hands found their way onto your sides and you hummed at the touch. They slowly slid up and down your flanks until they finally parked themselves on your hips, giving the meat that rested there the slightest squeeze. The action pushed a soft sigh from your lips even though you should have been disgusted by the gall of the stranger. 

The man’s massive hands occupied so much space on your hips that you couldn’t help but to imagine what they would feel like as they pressed you face down, into a warm, plush bed.

The drunk part of you said that you were beyond touch starved and that you needed this. So you leaned into the touch. You pressed your body flush against his and felt just how large he was, not only tall but also wide and firm, an absolute unit. 

You loved it, mind already filled with all of the possibilities. Being tossed around like a rag doll, being picked up and used like a toy, being held down by his tree trunk of an arm and a tongue flitting through your folds. Your mind went haywire as you ground your hips against the stranger. Your body flushed with warmth as you felt your core heat up.

You could feel that you were rubbing against something thick. It wasn’t hard but it was definitely solid and surly heavy. Your ass was pressed against the man’s pelvis so there was no doubting what was pressing against you.

A soft moan slipped from your lips at the feel of him behind you. Just the feeling of the bulge that sat between his legs, had your mouth watering, suddenly feeling very empty. 

The music’s tempo had lowered to a much more intimate almost sensual pace. The two of you swayed in time with the rhythm and you felt his member twitch against you. The confirmation that you weren’t the only one being impacted by the heavy petting left you feeling devious. 

You bit your lip and pressed your hips further back into his so you could feel just how much of an effect you were having on him. You just barely heard a muffled groan as he tightened his grip on your hips and lightly rolled his own up into your plush ass. A pleased hum fell from your lips as you slowly wrapped your fingers in his gloved ones for support. You couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to so you bent forward at the waist. 

“Fuuuuuck.” Muffled and long fell from his lips as he just tilted his head back. You shifted your ass against his bulge and shook your hips so that your ass shook against his front. 

“Bloody hell, love.”

You felt the bulk of your ass moving against his hardening cock and your mind loved that you could feel your impact on him. You could feel his cock twitching and swelling against you and you absolutely loved it. You just barely dropped your hips so that your ass could press up from the bottom of his clothed length before you swiveled them back up so that you were standing up straight again.

 A bratty side of you that had been lulling just beneath the surface was begging to take over. 

You wanted to play with him. 

You had to play with him. 

You know how good you looked bent over and you loved that you were putting on a show for him. You also knew that you wanted to feel just how big he was all over. 

There was some sick part of you that hoped that the man behind you was either one of your commanding officers. 

Price and his thick, solid, almost bear-like body. 

A man like that was built for endurance.

Built to sustain. 

Built to lead, to provide. 

You’d imagined being bent over his desk with the soft but strong press of his stomach against your back as he fucked you into the oak that sat in the center of his office. 

You’d spent nights with your fingers rubbing your clit imagining that it was Price’s tongue slipping through your folds as his beard scratched the delicate skin between your thighs. You'd thought about straddling those thick hips and thighs while taking him deep inside of you as he leaned back and lazily smoked a stubby cigar with a dazed look on his face. 

You'd wondered if he was the kind of man to shotgun the warm smoke from his cigars into your mouth as he planted you firmly onto his cock. 

You’d wonder what his already gruff voice would sound like as he huffed into your ear while his hips pistoned up into you. Would he be stern and mean? Would he tell you how good you were for him? Would he make you beg for it? Would he spit on it if you asked him to? 

The thought of your Captain and all the things you wanted him to do to you had your body rocking back even harder into the stranger as his hand made its way along your front, gently cupping your breast. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the touch. The both of you were being bold tonight and you definitely didn’t have any complaints about it. Your mind was already cloudy with absolutely sinful thoughts and you knew it would never happen so why not indulge some of those feelings? Why not let someone touch you the way you’ve been so desperately craving for months? 

You brought your hand up to meet the strangers and placed yours on top of his. Even with your eyes closed you could feel the absolute mass that this man had to him. You gave his hand a squeeze, leading him to tightly grope your breast through your shirt. 

Your lip pulled itself between your teeth again and a hum slipped from your mouth. He just barely slipped a finger over your covered, peaked nipple and you felt your core flood. 

His other hand made its way up your chest until it rested on your neck. The action had you pressing your hips even further into him, trapping his growing cock between your bodies. 

Would it be bad if you asked him to squeeze? 

You wanted him to make everything even fuzzier. You wouldn’t need another shot if he just squeezed down on your neck. You wanted to beg him to squeeze, so badly. You wanted him to pull you closer and whisper in your ear all the things he wanted to do to you. You could feel how bad he wanted you, it wouldn’t be hard to make something happen. You wanted to hear his breath in your ear as he told you how hard he was gonna fuck you.

He was just so BIG. Absolutely solid and clearly strong. 

Could it be Simon? 

Simon the absolute tank of a man. 

Simon, your big boy with the skull face. 

Your big bad lieutenant. 

Oh you hoped it was him or John, touching you like this. 

Everything about him was large, his hands, his thighs, his waist. Surely his cock was too. It had to be, especially with the way he walked around. That walk could only belong to a man that was absolutely hung. 

 You had dreams about pressing your face into the fat bulge that sat between his thighs.

Hoped that you could get a decent view of it as he readjusted his hips in meetings.

Some part of you almost wanted to beg him to let you kiss it, anywhere, anytime, any place. If he wanted it in a meeting, in front of the whole team you’d do it there and then some.

You’d thought about him holding your head down on his fat cock. Choking and sputtering around his girth. Would he leave you struggling to catch your breath? Would he laugh as you sputtered and struggled around his length? 

You’d thought about what it would be like to sit on his pretty pink lips that he loves to keep covered up. 

You’d even thought about the way that the man would smell as he fucked you. 

Not wanting to ruin the fantasy, you kept your eyes closed, and slowly turned yourself around in the man’s grasp. 

You pressed your front to his, as you slid your arms up to rest behind his neck. His large hands shifted themselves to the plush fat of your ass. You rolled your body into his with the mellow beat that poured from the speakers and felt your breath catch in your throat as his hands gripped the fat of your bottom, and he pulled the two globes up and apart. 

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your lips. Feeling electrified by his movements, you pulled a hand from the back of his neck and trailed it down his front. Eyes still closed, breath coming out in shudders, you pushed your hand in between the two of you and rested your palm along the man’s thick, very hard member. 

“Fucken’-” You could hear a strained huff leave his mouth at the contact. Emboldened by the shots you took earlier, you closed your hand around the man’s thick length and gave it a firm squeeze as you let out a soft purr next to his ear. 

“So big.” You hummed next to his ear as you felt his hips pulse into your grip. You just barely ran the top of your thumb along the man’s covered tip before you felt another presence at your back. 

“Ouuuu handsy as ever, Bonnie.” You whipped your head around and locked eyes with the smirking blue eyed Scotsman, whose face was even redder from the shots and the heat of the club. 

“Johnny. My god.” You sighed and turned your body toward him completely. “You almost scared me half to death.”

“Should be scared of that big beastie you’re about to fuck on the dance floor.” He laughed as he threw his arm around your shoulder. 

You turned your head to glance behind you, hoping to see exactly what the man you were dancing with looked like, but were quickly let down when you were met with a blank space behind you. You were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t actually taken the chance to open your eyes with the mystery man, but part of you loved the thrill of not knowing. 

Gaz popped up next to you without his massive coat on and wrapped his arms around the two of you, most definitely about to start professing his love for the two of you. His weight surprised you and you stumbled in your heels against Johnny. 

“So bloody happy-”, hiccup, “that you guys are my teammates.” Gaz’s head pops up and he points over to the table that you all were at previously, which has an almost clear line of sight to where you were standing in the crowd. He finishes his thought while pointing, “Them big fuckers too”. 

Your vision, cloudy as ever, lands on a pair of Ghostfaces. One leaning back in the booth with his legs spread wide, arm thrown over the back of the cushion, mask fixed on your group, and the other, sitting at the edge of the seat with his arms propped on his knees, hands clasped together and a predatory glare that makes itself known even through the blackened eyes. The sight was probably a bit frightening to the other club goers but in your state, you were moments away from bursting out into a fit of giggles. 

You leaned on Soap and almost burst out laughing at how red he was before you looked back over to the booth. You couldn’t help but to wave at the pair of slashers that occupied the booth. The two of them shared a weighted look, before they slowly rose from the cushions and made their way toward the rest of the team. You knew that their dark eyes were locked onto you. 

“Bonnie, you gonna take ‘em both this time?” 

[konig4eva]

18+MDNI

Simons hands roamed your skin hungrily. He had woken up insatiable for you, determined to fuck you like he had something to prove. To you or to himself, you weren’t sure.

That didn’t stop you from whining and pushing yourself against his hard, heavy cock. He had already made you come several times, the count long forgotten. But, here you were, wanting as much as he was willing to give.

His rough grunts echo in your ears as his cock rubs against your eager pussy. “Lovie, relax. You’ll get what ya need.” He huffs, placing a sloppy kiss above your breasts. “Let me take my time, Pretty.”

You buck your hips impatiently, wanting more of him. “Siiii, don’t be mean.” He was being mean. As mean as Simon could be to you at least. Each orgasm was always met with his reward. Really it was just his excuse to tease you to the point of insanity.

He knew it too, chucking, endlessly amused with himself. “Mean? Me? Never.” His scarred hand grabs the underside of your knee, pushing it up to your chest.

The tip of his cock leaks onto your wet folds. His eyes widen at the sight of it, narrowing in on the lewd sight, utterly transfixed. “Mmmm fuck, Lovie. Could fuck you just like this.” He says almost breathlessly. It’s probably the closest you could ever get to seeing Simon off his guard.

“Do it, Si. I want you. Please.” He has you begging now. It’s pathetic really, but you couldn’t care less. You want him. Need him. If begging is what finally gets him to fuck you again, you’ll do it shamelessly.

He presses his tip into you, making your head roll back against the soft pillows below you. Your hands grasping the sheets in a death grip. “Simon. Please.”

The whine in your voice finally makes him cave, pushing his full length into you, watching your face closely for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none, he rocks his hips, drawing out the pleasure. “Ya like that, Birdie? Tell me how much you like it.”

You gasp, eyes rolling back I your head as he gives one hard thrust before going back to his gentle rocking. “Love it, Simon.”

[gimme1margarita]

The Invasion Drill

Alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Omega!Reader

Dipping my toe into writing omegaverse fic, be nice, baby's first steps. CW: ⚠️ a little smut, and a little PriceGaz mentioned to indulge myself. I just wanted to bite Simon, I think… 18+ MDNI

No, this wasn’t how Ghost expected this invasion drill to go—but with the smell of your heat coaxing up his rut from the dead, he didn’t think he could stop either of you if he tried.

Read me on Ao3 💋

Outside the stationery stock closet, the hallways lights pulsed red. It seeped through the gaps around the door, spilling across the floor and the two pairs of shoes inside. One a pair of pumps, yours, the other’s a pair of thick-soled boots belonging to none other than Lieutenant ‘Ghost’ Riley, whose mouth your tongue was currently doing a thorough exploration of.

You tugged him closer by the straps of his vest, “Lieutenant,” you mewled as you pulled back, nudging his chin again with your forehead to appeal to him for a heat partner, your mind all addled by the sudden onslaught of hormones, “c’mon please? I’ll let you mate me,” whining as you nuzzled into his neck, your teeth scraping where his mating glands would be over his top, “I’ll be quiet…I’d claim you too—” you whispered,

“reckon you need it.”

No, this wasn’t how Ghost expected this invasion drill to go—but with the smell of your heat coaxing up his rut from the dead, he didn’t think he could stop either of you if he tried.

—a week ago—

That soldier was lingering by your desk again. Simon watched him out the corner of his eye, stood by the water cooler with Kyle and Johnny—or rather—he was watching you.

You and your slow blinks, hair looser than it usually was, wearing one of your softer sweaters. Little things that had been driving him up the wall all month. Years ago, it would’ve been permitted for an omega to stay home for the weeks before their heat, conserving their energy and fussing over their nest. But now living costs were higher, assholes on committee boards shrink-wrapped the length of paid-leave to a measly five days for anything sub-gender related, and all that came back on you.

It made his teeth itch, the back of his neck hot, in an unfamiliar way to see you uncomfortable in such a vulnerable time. But it made him irritated too to see other soldiers pick up on your discomfort and use it to try and weasel their way into being chosen by you for a five-day paid vacation.

“Price overheard brass say we’ll be scattered for some invasion drill soon,” Kyle was saying, “and there’s supposed to be three enemy teams for us to tag up.”

“Three’s a bit much,” Johnny grumbled, “we just got cleared by medical.”

“Guess they don’t want us having so much daydreaming time, aye Ghost?”

“He’s too busy making goo-goo eyes at admin again,” Johnny snorted, nodding at you, “just go talk to ’er,” but that only earned him a bitter side-eye. “Ach, don’t give me all tha’ m’not even near the lass.”

Kyle tossed his cup, “if my girl was lookin’ like that at work, fuck, I’d ask her to quit her job—s’just cruel.”

Simon rolled his eyes, “yeah, well, your bite mark matches Price’s dental scan so I think your five cents is irrelevant, Garrick.” Johnny choked on his water, spraying it over the side of Garrick’s face, promptly earning a shove and the attention of half the room. Simon left them there, having had enough of your miserable expression, and marched over to that soldier, “you’re Williams?”

“Lieutenant Riley,” he quickly straightened up, “yes sir.”

“What is your squad doing?”

“Car wash duty, sir.”

He raised a brow, “and why aren’t you with them? Do you think it reflects well on me to have a soldier under my command slacking off?”

“I was—ahem,” the man flushed, glancing at you as if you hadn’t returned to your work the moment the Lieutenant had shown up, “I just had to use the restroom, sir.”

“You’ve been here the past five minutes, did you wet yourself recruit?”

The man’s eyes widened, “um, no?”

“Then get the fuck out of my sight,” he barked, and the recruit legged it out of the room. He turned to you and for a moment, he just stared. Taking in the slight redness peeking out of the high collar of your sweater, the way your nose twitched when he shifted on his feet, “did you have lunch?”

“Hm?” you blinked up at him, “me?” Simon nodded. “Yeah,” you rubbed at your face with a soft laugh, “just think my coffee’s wearing off.” But just as quickly as you’d opened up, you shied away, as if realizing who you were talking to, “I guess I shouldn’t complain though, the stories I hear about you guys…” Again, your nose twitched, tongue darting out to wet your lip as you struggled to look away from his arms crossed over his chest. “Sleepiness is nothing, I’m sure.”

“Fatigue can be life threatening, don’t feel the need to deflect,” he said, “want another coffee?”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t, I try not to have more than three in a day. But thank you for offering Lieutenant Riley.”

A few days later and Simon was making a late night gym-stop when he stumbled upon you on the treadmill, droplets of sweat running down your back, the skin around your scent blocker visibly irritated from your obvious scratching. You didn’t see nor hear him come in, setting up on the rowing machine near the corner.

He’d only just started when you slowed down to a walk, grabbing your towel from over the monitor and patting yourself dry. You stood panting in the middle of the treadmill when it stopped. Head still nodding to the music in your headphones when you reached up to your scent blocker, peeling it off with a grimace.

Simon’s grip faltered as your scent bloomed in the room, thick and cloying from being trapped all day, distracted to hell as he watched you gently press your towel over your glands, a tiny whimper escaping your bitten lip. You went over to your bag and pulled out a little blue tube—he guessed it must’ve been some kind of calming ointment since you rubbed it right over your glands and the irritated skin nearby, your shoulders slowly unfurling from by your ears the longer you rubbed it in, a long sigh leaving you.

The bitterness in your scent slowly faded as you calmed, applying a fresh scent blocker and chugging some water. Then you took off your headphones and immediately froze, head turning to glance over your shoulder. Right at Simon.

“Lieutenant, I…” you swallowed, eyes flicking over him quickly, taking in his black singlet and trackpants, lingering. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s—” his voice was rough when he spoke, he cleared his throat, “it’s fine. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You shook your head, still struggling to lift your eyes to meet his gaze, “you didn’t, n-not really.” Even from here he could see your pulse fluttering in the hollow of your neck under a new sheen of sweat, breaths slowly picking up. You should be at home.

For your safety.

For his sanity.

“Go,” he muttered, nodding to the doors, “get out of here.”

You almost ran out the doors. He stayed until his muscles were burning from exertion, until he stopped thinking about following you.

Just as he was leaving the gym, his phone alerted with a text.

[*Location* Base Communications] There will be an invasion drill on base tomorrow at an unspecified time. This is an assessed test on response for both participating task forces, our own 141 and the visiting KorTac. If you are an outsider of these groups, act as civilians and comply with either group you encounter. Do not be concerned, this is a fully monitored event. Comms will be down base-wide except for emergency lines as per a real event. Their roles will be denoted by labels worn on their uniform.

They were against KorTac? Seemed like someone caught onto Price’s eavesdropping.

—present day—

Ghost was out on the tarmac with MacTavish leading recruits through formation training when the red alarm light started flashing. Either side of them the lights inside the buildings all turned off and exchanged for the same lights.

He exchanged a look with Johnny for only a second before they were both taking off for their rooms.

When Simon arrived, there was an envelope slipped under his door. Inside, two Velcro labels meant to be worn on his vest. A third item slipped out as well, paper; Mission objective – DEFENDER, the 141 will be protecting civilians from KorTac, the invading force.

He got dressed as quick as he could, making sure the two labels with his role were visible on the back and stomach of his vest, before leaving for the weapons room. He didn’t run into anyone on the way there, just Gaz inside the room already who grinned, “it’s fuckin’ paintball, Ghost.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, finding his own designated weapon and ammo next to his comms. He slipped them on, noticing Price’s gear already gone. Johnny arrived just seconds later, “took your time Sergeant.”

But he was grinning ear to ear, “paintball?! Fuckin’ finally!”

Simon clicked on his comms, feeding the earpiece under his vest and into his ear, “Bravo-Six, how copy?”

“Loud and clear, Ghost. Ready to knock KorTac down a peg?”

“Aye Cap, ready. Zone sweep?”

“Affirmative, take your usual. Johnny one and two, you take three and four, I’m headed to five and six, Gaz to seven and eight. Let’s handle this quickly.”

“Copy that,” Simon relayed the information as the Sergeants got their comms on, the lot of them quickly filing out and assuming position. Instructing any out of place ‘civilians’ to better hiding spots and helping the ‘wounded’ on the way. But Simon’s brow raised at the volume of paint splatters he was encountering, he thumbed on his radio, “just how many are in KorTac again? This doesn’t add up.”

“What do ye mean?” Johnny came through, a low staticky mutter. “I’m not seein’ much fallout here.”

“Thinking they’ve got backup, Ghost?” Kyle asked.

“Exactly,” Simon murmured, slowing near a corner. “Captain, think it’s likely?”

A moment of silence passed and distantly, Simon heard some distinct German shouting, before Price came through, “can confirm, they’ve got backup. Engaged in zone six, some are headed to eight Gaz, be prepared to engage.”

“Copy,” Garrick said.

Simon cursed, about to make a direct line to Johnny when he heard a sharp whistle, “is that you, Lieutenant?” A lilting voice asked from the other end of the hallway. He’d recognise König’s voice from a mile away.

“Can’t handle the four of us by yourselves, König?” He barked back, trying to get sight of him through using a small handheld mirror. “Had to ask for help?”

The colonel laughed, “you think I wanted more people in my way? I would’ve taken you on all by myself if I was allowed, Ghost,” he spat, drawling on his name like it had a bad taste. “Paintball, no wonder you are so sloppy when this is how you train.”

“What, you don’t know how to play the game? Point and shoot, colonel, point and shoot.”

“Come out from the corner so I can practice, da?”

Simon didn’t give him the laugh, “you first.”

“Ha! Well, if you won’t go first, maybe I’ll find someone else to practice on? How about your Liebling, hm? That little secretary.” Simon froze, a muscle in his jaw ticking under his neck gaiter. “I can smell it on her, anyone can. She’s still clean—unmated. Don’t know how to do it, Lieutenant?” He laughed again, louder this time, “how about I show you? It’s about time for her, no?”

“Think I don’t have a real weapon on me, colonel? Say that again to my face.”

But he didn’t get a response, and that only worried him more. He didn’t waste another second before heading in your direction, thumbing on his comms at last, “König’s in zone four, I’m headed to three. Soap, what’s your status?”

“One KorTac and two back-up tagged. Did ye tag König?”

“Negative.”

“…Then why the fuck are ye headed to three?”

“He’s headed that way.”

“Did he tell ye that himself?” Soap snapped, and Ghost faltered. He actually faltered—he could count on one hand the amount of times that happened. “Fuck sakes, did ye take yer suppressants this mornin’?”

…Shit.

“Ach—Ghost’s compromised,” the sergeant announced over comms, “zone’s one and two clear, I’m headed his way.”

“Roger tha’, Ghost, how copy?” Price came through.

The lieutenant leaned into a wall for a moment, the back of his neck hot under his collar, senses dialled to ten as he fumbled for his radio, peeking round the corner, “m’not thinkin’ straight sir.”

“Missed your meds?”

“Affirmative sir,” but he couldn’t bring himself to stop moving, quickly clearing the corridor. The further he moved, the more he could smell it—you. Distressed, vulnerable…needy. His vest felt too tight on his chest all of a sudden, “s’not good.”

“Stay calm soldier,” Price grunted, “need you to isolate yourself until the end of the drill. Then you can get off base. Rules are rules until the lights lift, Ghost.”

Simon’s face scrunched up as he turned another corner, gun up in case, “negative sir.”

“Repeat that, Lieutenant?”

“I need to check on ‘er, sir.”

“Negative, Ghost. I gave you an order.”

“She’s distressed, Captain. I can—” he took a long inhale, unaware of how dilated his pupils were getting, “can smell ‘er. She’s nearby.”

For a moment Price was silent, all Simon could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his footsteps quiet on the linoleum. When he came back online, he sounded far more severe, “Lieutenant, I gave you an order, are you disobeying?”

“I have to get to—”

“Lieutenant—”

“M’sorry John.”

“We’ll talk later. Stay out of sight, Riley.”

You were just around the next corner. Standing in the middle of the hallway, sniffling with a big red splotch of paint on the sleeve of your sweater.

“Oi, Where the hell are you goin’?” he called out and you froze, shoulders bunching up as you spun around.

But your expression wasn’t clear when he got a look at you, “p-paper for the printer…my report for um…for—”

“No, we’re in the middle of a drill, you’re vulnerable, you shouldn’t be walking around like this,” he spotted a door nearby and his mind was made in seconds, “in there—get in there, c’mon.” He took you by the arm as he wrenched open the supply closet, shelves upon shelves of stationery making the room smell like a damn tree. Instinctively, you reached for the light, but it didn’t work when you pressed the switch, that distressed scent on you only increasing. “Told you already, we’re in the middle of a drill. Lights are programmed like this for emergencies.”

“S’too dark,” you whispered, sniffling as you pressed yourself against him.

He bit his tongue, his mind and instincts at war with each other, “y’need to calm down,” he murmured, “can smell your scent through your blocker.”

His comms crackled in his ear, Johnny’s voice filtering through, “Ghost, what’s yer status?”

“I’m in zone three, east corridor. I’ve got a civilian with me.” He watched you turn into him with that low red light pulsing through the door window, nose twitching as you tipped your head back, eyes fluttering as you inhaled deeply. Christ, he’d never seen someone look like that—not for him.

“Shite, there’s three comin’ yer way, can ye tag ‘em?”

“Negative,” he muttered, his hand lifting of its own accord to get to his own scent blocker, “where’s…what about Gaz?”

“With Bravo Six, held up in zone five with König—” Soap said, “I’m nearby, hold yer position an’ play dead, Lt.”

The radio clicked off, plunging him back into silence, his nail snagged on the edge the adhesive, “m’gonna push my scent, yeah? Should help you calm down.”

You blinked slowly, frowning, “what…wait—” your eyes widened as you finally made sense of his words, eyes dropping to his hand, “don’t—" but the words left you, mind blanking when he peeled up the blocker, stomach twisting as your skin warmed.

Ghost froze, picking up on the change instantly, “oh.” If you weren’t already in heat before, you tipped headfirst into it now.

To make matters worse, behind you he saw lights creeping close through the gap below the closet door and the window. You paid them no mind, pressing yourself up against him with a whine, forehead bumping up into his chin. Clear behaviour of you trying to appeal for a heat partner—no, to appeal for a mate.

That fucked with his brain worse than anything.

“Fucking hell,” a soldier muttered from in the hallway, laughing, “smells like a recruit’s getting lucky.”

“And close by. Idiot’s gonna get an earful from the higher-ups,” another said, a second light panning across the floor with his movements. Simon walked you back against the wall beside the door so they wouldn’t see you.

There was a tut, “could be some kind of trap…”

“Who gives a fuck—they smell damn good,” a third murmured and despite the tight lid Simon had fought to keep his instincts sealed under all these years, he felt his hackles flare up at the comments all-the-while you buried your nose in the curve of his neck, nuzzling into him with a delighted shiver, jaw already slack and drooling on his vest. “Real damn good.”

Christ, how long had he been on suppressants? He couldn’t even pinpoint his last rut in his memories. The back of his neck grew hotter every second you spent huffing so close to his mating gland, that military grade scent blocker on your neck rendered practically useless with how his senses were heightening and your own hormones spiking. He could feel the saliva welling up in his mouth as his lips parted, reaching for his radio, patience all but gone as he thumbed the button, “would you fuckin’ tag them already Soap?!”

“Ach—” the sergeant whispered, amusement clear as day through that staticky film, “s’that ye in that wee closet Lt?”

“Soap,” Ghost warned, snarling as his grip started to tighten on you, “swear to god I’ll see you get a demotion.”

“Was startin’ to think ye didn’t even have a dick, what a surprise. Besides, I’m not the one ignorin’ orders,” Soap continued on, another faint click sounding over the comms, “Cap, I think ye won the bet.”

“Eyes up sergeant, we’re just ahead of you. Converge on the enemy in five, four—”

“Lieutenant,” you mewled, nudging his chin again, voice all soft and he watched you pull off your scent blocker like some kind of old erotic film. It was a miracle he stayed standing when your scent wafted up to his nose in full force. “C’mon please? I’ll let you mate with me,” you whined as you nuzzled into his neck, teeth scraping his scent blocker through his top, “I’ll be quiet—

“—might claim you too,” You whispered against his neck, “reckon you need it.”

Soap may have been teasing, but it really was good to know his dick still worked after so long without a rut, hard as it was against your hip. “Don’t,” he rasped, feeling your hand trail down his side, tugging on his shirt until it could slip underneath—nails scratching at his skin until you felt goosebumps rise beneath your touch. “Fuck—”

Bang! Bang! Bang! “We cleared for entry, Lieutenant? Need a visual.” Came Captain Price’s voice through the door, but the second his hand rattled the doorknob, you hissed so loud Simon could’ve sworn he was still in last op’s jungle. “Right…” he cleared his throat, “get yourselves out of here already—” his voice was quieter when he turned away, but Simon just managed to catch, “how the fuck do I explain this to brass?”

“Fuck—” you gasped, teeth still deep in the side of Simon’s neck, the head of his cock knocking on your womb as he groaned, thrusting up deeper as he came inside you. Both too reckless to manage something as flimsy as a condom. You pulled back to look at him and he nearly came again at the sight of his blood rolling down your chin, “did I hurt you?”

He shook his head, panting as he resting his head back against the cold wall of his room on base, the only place close enough for you to reach in time. “No, but I might.”

Could’ve sworn he saw a glint in your eye at that. “You can’t be gentle?”

Simon narrowed his eyes, watching your tongue dart out to swipe the dark red drop from the plush of your lip, “do you want gentle?”

You couldn’t hide your little grin, dipping your head to dodge his gaze though the rise of your cheeks gave you away, sweet as an apple. He hummed, shifting his hips just enough to make you fall against his chest with a gasp, the threat of his fat knot trying to split you open making you meet his eye again. “Do it,” you whispered.

“You sure?”

“Simon,” he’d told you to call him hardly an hour ago. Now your lip was curled in a pout, brows dipping, “I just claimed you and you won’t even knot me?”

His gaze swept over the sheen above your brow, a thumb reaching up to brush over your softened nipples, watching your lips part on a delicate gasp, “didn’t say I wouldn’t,” his thumb circled again, and he felt you clench around him, a flutter in your stomach as your forehead dropped against his collarbone, “y’real tight is all I mean, don’t want to hurt you, bird.”

“I can take it,” you breathed, spine turning lax against him, hips rolling just enough to earn a squeeze of his hand on your hip, “please.”

The thing with Simon is he’s the biggest man you’d ever been with—and maybe it was because of your heat and the delirium, but all you wanted to do was curl up into him forever, and with the iron taste still on your tongue you thought he might just let you. His hand slipped from your chest and around your back, smoothing down your spine to grip your ass, “m’gonna put you on your back, yeah?” he murmured, dipping his head to brush his lips against your temple, baby hairs damp and clinging to your forehead.

You nodded, that need burning low in your gut starting to spread back out into your limbs again. You were tired, sure, but so, so restless that you’d take all he could give and then some.

“Feels good,” he panted, catching your eyes lingering on the fresh bite mark, hips rolling up, up, up into you, “feels real—ah—fucking good.”

Bringing your legs up either side of his hips, you hooked your feet together behind his back, arms going around his neck too, “please Simon,” you whispered, looking up at him with those wet eyes of yours, glimmering from his reading light on his bedside cabinet, your mating glands burning something fierce without his teeth puncturing them, “please, please, please—"

Something twisted in the dark of his eyes, “m’not easy to be with,” he warned, bottoming out to attempt sliding his knot in, watching you gasp and writhe beneath him. “I’m selfish,” his hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head, hips pressing in, in, in, “I’m distant, bad at—mmm-fuck,” he groaned, stomach tensing as he felt the give between your hips, breath hitching around your name, “fuck!”

“More. More,” you mouthed, brows furrowed and nails digging into his back at that stretch, stuttered gasps the only sound leaving you. “Please.”

It was out of body, the sensation that filled him as he finally sunk into place inside you, instincts finally winning out—he couldn’t get his jaw to shut, saliva rolling off his canines as his eyes fell to that feverish patch of skin on the slope of your neck. Your scent so strong, still faintly distressed, skin gleaming. He shouldn’t—he really, seriously shouldn’t. But the moan you let out when his teeth broke through your skin, that desperate clench around his knot…

He wouldn’t be letting you go now.

[ghouljams]

what's this??? another wip wednesday from ghoul???

"Wanted: Generic older man to play father at graduation"

John isn't what you'd expected when talking to him, and yet somehow he's exactly what you'd been imagining.

For one, he's a lot bigger than his polite typing had suggested. Broad shouldered and barrel chested, with a pelt of hair covering his arms. He tips his head down to look at you when he holds out his hand in greeting and you can't say it isn't intimidating.

He's not what you'd call old, actually you'd put him squarely in the "middle aged" category you'd been looking for, but there's grey in the thick beard that covers the lower half of his face that makes him look older at first glance. His eyes are young, but the bags under them are dark and there are deep lines carved beside them that crease pleasantly when he smiles at you. His handshake is firm and callused, and his fingers linger against your wrist when he pulls his hand away so shortly you almost think you imagined it.

Honestly if he wasn't going to be playing your dad and you'd seen him at a bar, you would have called him hot. If you were into guys your dad's age.

[tojisteddy]

do you have a favorite fauxcest trope for each of the 141? like do you prefer dad or big brother simon?

cw: 18+ mdni, fauxcest (of all kinds)

I looooove Dad bf!Simon the most for Simon, love when he calls you ‘kiddo’ ‘his kid.’ such a quiet dad, I wanna kiss him. But like (in my head and for plot) I think Big Brother!Simon fits him more because he’s always wanted to be a proper big brother for Tommy but didn’t get the chance to. So when he has the opportunity to be that older brother figure for you, he bathes in it. The man adores it, to the point it did get a little fvcked up, and he’s fvcking his “baby sister.”

Dad bf John is just *chefs kiss* for him. Like wanted a kid so bad he ends up projecting, or or he realizes it’s something you need, a proper father figure, so he gets into it for you. He’s a sweet guy (for you). Just- rough around the edges, classic dad shit. Though he is the type to show up for you (he’s proper), will start fights, overprotective, mayhaps gets turned on when you start getting angry just like him.

Soap- Johnny boy, has middle child syndrome bad but like in a “theres a large age gap between me and my older siblings so I’m basically the older sibling to the younger set of siblings.” I don’t think he would be too into it tbh, but like you call his “bro” one time or something (the type to get horny over a burb, so he’s unserious) treat him like your younger brother or some shit and he’s silly putty in your hands.

And then Gaz, uncle shit. Like he’s such a good guy, your family loves him, he’s like close enough in age to be your older sibling (like ten years or more) but younger than your parents. Someone your family has taken under their wing. And he’ll catch you on an off day, eyeing him with hearts in your fvcking eyes, Kyle will say some shit in your ear like, “I could be your uncle, y’know that?” And he’s cracking a smile asfter whispering it in your ear, running off with the rest of your family. You shoot up, dashing off to the bathroom because maybe you got too wet in your undies. And Kyle is so quick to follow, “worried” about his favorite girl. And his ears pressed against the door of bathroom, hearing your muffled moans that make him smirk, his girth twitch, “You alright in there darlin?” And you don’t even get the chance to reply, take your finger out your drenched hole when Kyle comes in. He takes you in, heart pounding in his chest, “One fingers not gonna cut it love,” and he’s pressing himself against you, “I’m a good uncle so I’ll help you out”

a/n: I took it too far with Gaz’s but woah. WOAH.

[yousummonedme]

Just Thinking About: feral cat hybrid

Cw: + SMUT! MDNI

who’s just… wild. She makes a hobby of tap dancing on every one of Simon’s frayed nerves. Simon tolerates a lot of her antics. His cards go missing when she wants to go on an exorbitant shopping spree. He’ll fuck, finger, or eat her for hours, till her appetite is sated. He’s covered in scratches and bite marks and traces of liquid from when she insisted on marking him as her property. He’d give in to her whining and pouting in a heartbeat, for just about whatever it is as long as it doesn’t harm her. He turns a deaf ear to her sassing him for no goddamn reason (she just wants him to punish her and loves seeing him wrapped around her little finger). Everyone knows he worships the ground she walks on.

But even Simon has his limits. She’d teasing him for days. She briefly rub against him while passing by. She’d bend over and stretch like cats do— face down, ass up, and tail raised to show her pretty little holes. She’s wearing his shirt, no panties. When he was sitting on the couch with a book or the Telly, she straddle his lap. She’d purr and nuzzle him needily like she was about to go into heat. But the instant he tried to touch her or relieve the strain of his leaking cock, she’d dodge and prance away.

He’d lost it when he caught her— after all that show, dressed in his shirt, on his bed— grinding against Soap’s mouth. Jaw clenched, Simon crosses the room in two strides and pulls her off with one arm. Soap just sits up, face wet and covered in a smug grin.

Fifteen minutes later, she was handcuffed to the bed, with Simon roughly pounding her from behind. Her ass rippled with each thrust, and Simon’s eyes gleamed as he gripped thick handfuls of her soft flesh. She mewled his name, trying to reach behind to grasp him. Her drool pooled against her pillow, and she gulped. Beneath her, Soap’s tongue was working furiously at her clit. Occasionally, he’d slid down to her entrance and try to sneak tastes of Simon’s dick as it moved. Johnny wasn’t allowed to touch himself, nor was he allowed to stop licking no matter how many orgasms she had or how much she begged.

She screamed as Simon bent over her, his arms bracing on either side and his firm chest pressed flush against her back. His length felt so much bigger, and it ground against her sensitive walls. Soap sucked harshly at her clit, making her writhe to get away from all the stimulation. Soap released her clit and traveled lower. He planted kisses along her lips, down to her vagina, all the way till he reached Simon.

Bent over her, Simon’s rim was exposed; and Johnny swiped his tongue along it. Simon jolted, pushing his cock further into her. Johnny grinned and doubled down. He dug his fingers into Simon’s cheeks and pulled them apart to get more access. He sucked and made out with and shoved his tongue into Simon’s hole. She cried out as Simon went wild and fucked her harder. “Just take it.” He grit, his hips a blur as it oscillated between her dripping warm cunt and Soap’s eager mouth, “Wanna be a brat so bad, you can take the consequences.”

Simon pulled her down all the way, impaling her and pressing down on the bulge his tip made. With a loud groan, he climaxed. He spurt so much into her, he could have sworn the bulge grew larger under his fingers. Soap’s pants were soaked as well; he’d orgasmed untouched just by lapping at them and humping the air to relieve the tension.

When Simon finally pulled away, she was already knocked out. Soap hurried to suck the squirt and cum before it dripped out. She jolted at each lap to her sensitive clit.

“Reckon she learned her lesson?” Soap licked his lips and looked down at her sleeping form. Simon just chuckled darkly. “Nah. Feral cats don’t tame easy.”