#cod blurb

vacation!john price makes the most of his time off by folding you–the pretty thing he caught staring at his rental boat–in half so he can come inside you nearly every night. he's bending your legs in ways you didn't know possible, pushing your thighs to your chest so he can see the mess you're leaking around him. sometimes, if he's lucky, the light will catch you just right, the man to grunting and cooing at the shining ring of cream at the base of his cock.

"f-fuck, you're deep... feels... feels good." your praise comes out as a stuttering, slurred mess. "really fuckin'–oh, god–s'good."

"christ... s'too bad holiday's almost done, dove." john groans out the reminder, a touch of sad slipping in just under the puffs of pleased breaths. you whine at the hand he presses onto your belly, the sound and sight distracting john, who just tilts his head with pride in his grin. "oh, fuckin' looook a'that, huh. think i might have'ta take ya back home with me... would be a shame ta let a face 'n hole as pretty as yours get away too easy, wouldn't it?"

all you can do is gush and slosh around john as he keeps stuffing himself inside you. holding your knees and puckering your lips every few thrusts so he'll rub his hairy front against your chest and belly every time he bends to kiss you.

Simon Riley does not look like a man who has a pet.

He never talks about his home life. Some of the new recruits joke that he lives on base since he’s always first there and last to leave.

So you’re surprised when he first invites you over after a few dates.

There’s a cat tree and a few springs and jingle balls scattered around the floor.

“Simon…do you…do you have a cat?”

Simon gives one loud whistle and you see a flash of pink skid around the corner.

Stood in front of you is a cat. Not just any old moggy. A sphinx cat, naked as the day it was born.

“This is sniper.” He doesn’t explain further as he picks up the cat and positions him on his shoulder, walking through to the kitchen.

Now, Simon takes his responsibility as a dad seriously.

You watch as he grabs down a ceramic cat bowl, the cat staying on his shoulder and watching his every move. “He gets raw, grain free food. Supplement powders and fish oil.”

Later that evening, the cat stares at you as you snuggle into Simon’s side, the TV casting a menacing shadow of the small creature. His eyes narrow.

“Si…I think your cat hates me.”

“Well, he’s just gonna have to learn to share, isn’ he.”

“What?” Gaz asked, yanking his arm free from the Scotsman’s grasp.

“A lass just walked into L.t.’s office.” Soap pointed out.

“A living one?” Gaz asked, peeking around soap to look down the hallway.

“Yes!” Soap whisper shouted at him again, “And she looked..normal.”

The two took a slower than casual stroll down the hallway, glancing hard into the fogged glass of Ghost’s door. They were barely able to make out two figures sitting at his desk.

Soap grabbed Gaz’s arm with a mischievous grin, and before Gaz could stop him, Soap knocked on the Lieutenant’s door. It was silent for a moment before the door opened a crack, “what do you need, Soap?”

It was obvious that Ghost didn’t want them inside his office, but unfortunately for him, Johnny was far too comfortable with Ghost’s standoffishness. He weaseled his way into the room, “I left somethin’ in ‘ere, my good pen.”

“I don’t- bloody hell.” Ghost, for all his strength, wasn’t able to bully his sergeant back out of the door.

And you, well… You were trying so hard not to laugh at the wide-eyed expression you were getting. You watched as the man’s eyes went from you, to the desk where your lunch was spread, over to Simon. The latter sighed heavily, not even bothering to attempt to stop Gaz from following into the room. It was obvious they were waiting for an explanation, continuing to take in the sight in front of them.

Simon looked at you apologetically, knowing there was no way he was going to get you alone again before your visit on base ended, “this is the missus.”

“The missus?!” Soap about shouted, which finally made you laugh. Yeah, it was going to be a long lunch.

Simon’s been missing for months.

At first, it was panic. Sleepless nights. Missed calls. You paced the kitchen floor like a ghost, heart hammering with every unknown number that lit up your phone. Maybe something happened. Maybe he was hurt. Or worse.

But that was before you called the base.

Before some stone-cold voice on the other end told you your husband hadn’t gone missing he’d been deployed. Four months ago. Without a word. No note. No goodbye. No explanation. He left like a shadow and didn’t look back.

And now you’re just angry.

Livid.

Because the man you trusted with your life didn’t even have the decency to tell you he was leaving.

It’s a little after 1 a.m. when you hear it, the dull slam of a car door. Then boots. Heavy and familiar on the pavement outside. You don’t rush to greet him. You don’t cry. You don’t even blink.

You stay in the kitchen, elbow-deep in last night’s dishes because sleep doesn’t visit your side of the bed anymore.

And why would it? That bed hasn’t felt like home since he left it.

You hear the lock click. Then the door creaks open.

Then—silence.

You don’t turn around.

“This how you greet me now?” His voice cuts through the quiet.

You don’t answer.

“Seriously?” he says, sharper. “I come back from hell, and I get a cold shoulder?”

That makes you laugh but it’s hollow. Bitter. You set a dish down with too much force. “Hell? You think you’re the only one who’s been through it?”

Simon stiffens in the doorway.

You turn, eyes sharp. “You left, Simon. You vanished. I thought something happened to you. I thought you were dead.”

“I couldn’t tell you—”

“Don’t give me that shit,” you cut him off. “You didn’t even try. You let some random operator be the one to break the news. You didn’t have the balls to tell your own wife that you were leaving.”

He steps forward, jaw tight. “You think it was easy for me? You think I wanted to go?”

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“I was protecting you—”

“Don’t.” You hold up a hand, shaking your head. “Don’t feed me that line. You didn’t protect me. You abandoned me.”

Silence floods the room again, thick and bitter.

He exhales slowly, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Why not?”

You look away, voice cracking despite yourself. “Because talking leads to arguing. Arguing leads to nowhere. And I’m just… I’m tired, Simon. I’m so tired.”

He watches you quietly. “Okay. Let’s go to sleep then.”

You let out a soft scoff. “Not like that you aren’t.”

He frowns. “Like what?”

You look at him for the first time in full really look. His face is tired. Eyes dull. Shoulders weighed down like he’s carrying something he can’t put down. But it’s not enough. Not after everything.

“Like a soldier.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then another.

Something in his expression falters.

“I want to sleep with my husband,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not some stranger in a uniform. Not someone who shuts me out, who leaves without a word, who walks back in like I should be grateful.”

The pain is all over your face in the tight press of your lips, the furrow in your brow, the shine in your eyes you refuse to let fall.

“Is that too much to ask?”

You don’t wait for an answer. You turn your back and walk toward the bedroom, the weight of your words dragging behind you like chains.

Simon stays in the kitchen, frozen. Still in his boots. Still not the man you married.

And the silence swallows him whole.

ㅤㅤ     ㅤ𓂃 more blurbs

“damn, your past lovers were a greedy men, aye!” johnny’s voice echoes through your flat.

he’s sitting at his desk in front of the fan, wearing nothing but his boxers. you’re sprawled out on the bed, lying on your stomach, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. just your panties and one of johnny’s old oversized military shirts hang off you. for the past few minutes, you’ve felt his eyes glued to your arse. it’s practically right in his line of sight, so you can’t exactly blame him.

you glance up at him, confused and already fed up with his nonsense. you’re used to his random comments, he says whatever pops into his head, no filter. and he knows you won’t really judge him for it, so he lets his thoughts run wild.

“what the fuck does that even mean?” you ask with a sigh, shaking your head.

you had been right, his eyes were locked on your arse, not even pretending to look away.

“well, you see, when i was waiting in line for coffee yesterday, there were these two women in front of me. really, i say women, but they were barely fourteen. i should’ve said girls,” he starts, already drifting from the main point. “so, these two girls, they were talking, right? waiting in line, of course they were talking. and i know you always tell me not to listen to other people’s conversations, but i couldn’t—”

most of the time, when his mind wandered like that, you just let him play in the background, white noise, until you heard a few keywords that meant he’d finally circled back to the point.

but right now, you’re stuck on what he said before. you’re confused, maybe a little humiliated. he hadn’t said it like an insult, it sounded casual, but still, why the hell was he talking about your past lovers?

“johnny,” you cut him off. “back to the main point. what was that about my past lover?” you snap, sharper than intended.

“yeah, sorry,” he says quickly, catching the edge in your voice. “they were talking about this theory, about beauty spots. how they’re the favorite places for your past lover to kiss you… you know, in another life and stuff? and well...”

his eyes drop again, landing on your arse, where six small, dark beauty marks scatter across the skin.

“oh,” you breathe out, feeling the heat rise to your face.

the shame bubbles up, not because you were wrong to feel thrown off, but because he hadn’t meant “past lover” in the way you thought. he wasn’t talking about before him, he meant before this life.

getting up from his chair, he kneels beside you on the bed, his eyes never leaving your arse. he doesn’t say anything, just starts grabbing at you like a kitten making bread. he kneads the skin so good, you let out a small, involuntary whine.

the way he looks at your body always amazes you. like he’s discovering it for the first time, every single time. you know johnny's a generous lover, always giving, rarely taking, and his filthy mouth never shuts up about how much he adores every inch of you.

“and you know, i was thinking…” he murmurs, slowly bending down to nip at the soft curve of your cheek. “with the way i leave teeth marks and hickeys on this pretty arse, maybe we were lovers in a past life.”

before you can respond, his mouth is back on your skin, his teeth nipping, his tongue soothing the sting. your phone slips from your hand, landing with a soft thud on the mattress as a moan escapes you.

it isn't even truly sexual, not yet. johnny just loves to worship you. he doesn’t need anything in return. he loves to kiss you, taste you, study your skin like it holds every answer he's ever wanted.

his mouth leaves your arse and begins its slow journey upward. his hands slide your shirt higher as his lips follow, until he reaches your neck. he pushes the shirt away from your shoulder and reconnects his lips with your skin a second later.

“isn’t it fucking romantic, bonnie?” he murmurs into your ear, already knowing you’re drifting into that soft, horny daze he loves. “you and me, we were always meant to be.”

he kisses a beauty spot on your neck. the one he always returns to. the one so often hidden beneath his teeth marks and hickeys, it barely has time to fade.

“you see, i fucking love this theory, baby,” he coos against your skin, laying his body over yours, grinding his now-hard cock against your arse.

“i was you lover in every fucking life you've ever lived. you've been mine since the dawn of time. always”

©fromsil.

They’re about to exit the house, Simon putting her coat on for her and she just turns, stares at him, then with a high pitched scream says “AAAH look at you, you’re so cute.” And squishes his cheeks together and looks up at him all smiling and giddy, making kissy faces at him.

Plush thighs that filled out cushion seats, round cheeks that he knew would grow rounder when you smiled, soft curves he could see even under your clothes.

it was girls like you.

The ones who did a double take when someone asked for their number, eyes flicking around the bar at all the other pretty women. Women who moved with confidence like it came as second nature. Women didn’t second guess a single thing about themselves.

But that was okay, love.

Because over time, he’d show you that every curve that adorned your body deserved nothing less than worship and praise. Deserved hands that knew how to hold softness without breaking it.

He noticed the way you tried to shrink yourself as he stood in front of you, he could tell you weren’t used to being wanted the way he wanted you. He could see the quiet disbelief in your eyes when he asked if you’d fancy a date sometime

But he’d fix that darling, over time slowly but surely, he’d intentionally show you. With praise from his mouth and kisses from his lips. He’d make sure you couldn’t hide.

He’d make sure you saw yourself the way his eyes did.

First is that you were actually quite intimidated when you first met him. He’s tall and buff, and when your friend was describing him you truly thought he’d be shorter than you and more puppy like in appearance.

So when you first saw him on that blind date you wondered for a split second if you should bolt, if it weren’t for the fact he got so nervous he nearly knocked over the table you probably would’ve still been scared and ran.

Second is that you actually did have hesitations about marrying him when he proposed even though you said yes instantly. You wondered if it was truly alright for you to be this happy and you wondered when the other shoe would drop, when you’d get a call that he’d died in battle or something.

You weren’t sure if that’s what you wanted… it felt selfish but you weren’t sure you could handle all that grief, but when he held you and gently rubbed your back after you cried about something on the TV you just knew that if you needed to marry him. You weren’t sure you could handle him dying and he never knowing how deeply you loved him.

You have photos of your wedding day all over the house, you were sure it was the best day of your life second to meeting him.

Third thing you’d never tell him is that you killed someone during his deployment.

It was an accident really, a stranger broke into your house and you grabbed the gun not thinking. You shot so many rounds you felt thankful you had a silencer on and you don’t live that close to anyone. You remember collapsing on the floor shaking, staring at the lifeless person’s body.

You killed someone.

You buried the stranger under the flower bed, burning any identifiable information on him. You had no doubt the stranger didn’t have any good intentions as you had recognized him as someone infamous in the town for being a creep for anyone who he deemed weak enough. Since he hadn’t seen your husband before he probably thought you lived alone.

Finally, the fourth secret.

After that night when you first took someone’s life, you became addicted. It was scary but it was a rush you never felt before. Unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

So you kept going. Kept killing. You’d only kill those who wouldn’t be missed, if you killed people who would be then people would notice. But since you picked the horrible and creepy, no one cared usually. There was missing posters put up out of duty but other than that there was no effort.

You’d bury each new victim in a different place so there would be less stench and less likely to be caught. Sometimes keeping a souvenir or two from them. Sometimes they had jewelry or cash on them, you got an extra phew hundred dollars from that. That money was great for decorating the house and buying new things you’d know König would love.

When König came back from deployment though you stopped, didn’t want to risk him catching you. You’d rather play the role of devoted spouse instead when he’s home rather than a murderous psychopath.

“How have you been Schatzi?” He purrs into your neck kissing along it as he breaths in your scent.

“I’ve been doing great.” You nuzzle right back into him, thank god you got rid of the body hours ago before he arrived.