#cod oneshot

sweet girl - 141 being obsessed with you

the nickname had started with simon first. passing you in the hallway, hand falling on your lower back as he squeezed past you, greeting you with a good morning and “s’cuse me sweetheart, just gettin’ past”

he’d say it when catching you working out in the gym, complimenting you on your form with a hidden “nice form, sweet girl, keep those legs apart”. somehow he’d find his way behind you, pressing his body against you. you never knew how he ended up there.

then it spread to soap, with a little more enthusiasm. greeting you in the hallways, calling the name out loud enough to get the attention of everyone. “what’s our sweet girl been up ta’?”, “anything new goin’ on, sweet girl?”

you couldn’t lie, it turned you the fuck on. especially when simon said it with his low voice, creeping up behind you and rasping it in your ear. soap almost made a humiliation ritual out of it, causing you to run to a private area to play with yourself— thinking of the two having their way with you, all while calling you “sweet girl”.

it was even worse when gaz got to it. he spoke it with such love, smiling with that natural charm he had. “hey there, sweet girl,” smirking as usual. during gun training one day he had your panties soaked from all the praising and pet-names. and you think he knew it.

price catching on is the cherry on the fucking cake. he just knows how to use it in a way that his boy’s don’t. “what’re ya’ doin’ there sweet girl?” “sure you can handle all that?” “need some help there, sweet thing?”

it got so bad you knew it had to be a running joke! something they were all in on. but it wasn’t, you really just were their sweet girl <3

Forfeit

or: you and Country!Simon get in an argument and he fucks the anger away.

cw: 3.3k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with little plot, jealous!simon, no use of y/n, married!reader (to Simon), angry sex, p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, pussy pronouns and slaps, back shots, cowgirl, nipple play, exhibitionism (if you squint), outdoor sex, daddy kink (papa/pa), breeding kink, country!simon, lucky!reader.

a/n: forfeit by Kiana Ledé was my inspo

It’s not that your friends were bad, quite the opposite really, they were great and easily welcomed your husband into the group even though he was on the quieter side. They’d come from the city to congratulate you on the marriage since just your two best of friends came to the wedding.

It was your friend, Vee, her boyfriend that didn’t know his fucking place.

He saw the way you looked at Simon, all heart eyed and yearning for his approval. And Simon’s pretty seafoam orbs would dance all over you, to your pretty face, to your lips to your chest and back to your dark mocha eyes and pretty skin, give you a smile under his skull bandana that no one would understand but you. And Simon would just know you were blushing because you’d look away with smiling harder than ever, squeezing his arm as you continued conversation with your friends—

God, Simon was in love with you. Could’ve done anything for you.

Would’ve beat the breaks off your friends boyfriend if he was alone for a second.

It couldn’t be more obvious that you were a happily married and taken woman. But that stupid bastard couldn’t keep his eyes up, continued to ask about you brushing off Simon, and to top it off you were acting like it wasn’t happening. Still entertaining conversation with him, laughing— giggling.

“Where did you two meet? I’m suprised a city girl like you would move so far just to live in the country.” The fool asked in the middle of conversation, cutting you off from talking about some story from college.

Strike two.

“O-Oh, we’ve known each other since we were younger—“

“—We fucked like dogs right in that old barn when we re-introduced ourselves though.” Simon doesn’t miss a beat. He’s not really one for white lies and he doesn’t care if the truth hurts.

He’ll be as crass as he wants to prove a point. Your friend’s boyfriend, the idiot, was staring too hard. Simon doesn’t mind when people looked, you were as pretty as rain. Curves nice as ever, that jaw dropping smile, pretty brown eyes and curls he loved to play with no matter how long or short. His drop dead gorgeous baby, married to him in the backwoods. Heavy on his.

Civilian Reader Y/N! who absolutely loses it when Simon parks his 🏍️ directly in front of her door like he’s claiming territory. She shoves past him, muttering about civic sense, common sense – Simon, who physically flinches at the creative slurs (cockgoblinslutbraindeadpest). Once. Never again. (He lies.)

Simon! who stares at her like she’s the devil reincarnate when she blasts music at night. Dirty Diana has played five times on loop. He’s convinced she’s hard of hearing.

What he doesn’t know is that she passed out an hour ago, face-down, loudspeaker on.

Y/N! who throws parties every other week. Her friends end up whispering about “the creepy big man who keeps peeking through the windows.”

Simon! who is absolutely not peeking–he’s conducting surveillance to make sure there’s no drug racket. And is wildly offended when she calls him an old geezer for being paranoid.

Y/N! who spots her grumpy neighbour doing push-ups half-naked in his front yard and yells “MANWHORE!” while pretending to be on a phone call.

The next day, she drags out dumbbells and does her own workout in front of her house, grunting loudly (caveman documentary audition)–far louder than any man ever could.

Simon! who revs his bike unnecessarily loud just to piss her off. Immediately regrets it when she yells back.

“HARDER, MF THAT ALL IT’S GOT?”

“MY HOUSE LIZARD CAN FART LOUDER THAN THAT!”

Simon stalls the bike. On purpose. Definitely on purpose. And looks at her as if she did it. 👁️👁️

Y/N! who hears loud, ridiculously exaggerated moans at three in the morning and knows! knows it’s another one of her neighbour’s hookups.

The man has a new girl every week whenever he’s home. She rates them mentally. Pure 0s.

Simon! who wakes up the next morning to aggressive knocking. Y/N is yelling down the street –

“Mr. Riley!! I've got your medicine for the CRAB SITUATION you've got going on!”

At full volume. Before sunrise. And yeah every girl ends up running out of his door.

Y/N! who intentionally colors her railings hot pink to piss him off. But he ends up liking them and paints his side pink too to match...huh?

Simon! who knows if he gets low she'll go lower. But stays on his porch at two in night when he hears her cry after a date. Silent. Watching.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ──

MASTERLIST 🌷

Simon was sick. God, he had to be.

Sick if it made his cock twitch every time he came home with a fresh bruise or a new cut and the first thing you did was drop everything, rushing to his side with furrowed brows and worried hands, little compared to his.

Always asking if he was okay, even when he already told you he was fine. Not that it was your fault, not when he made the stories sound worse than they were.

That shallow nick on his arm from Johnny slipping while cleaning his blade? No, sweetheart, that was from an enemy ambush. Caught him off guard, pushed him hard into a concrete wall and slashed his arm with a veryy sharp knife.

He might’ve even blacked out a bit, hard to say.

Sex was even better when he was hurt, because you slowed down, you were gentle, whispering are you okay? like it would stop the ache. You made love to him like he was breakable and fuck if that didn’t ruin him.

He, on the other hand, was a bastard.

His shoulder was barely healed, and here he was already flipping you on your stomach, ignoring your squeals of protest, “Simon— be careful!”

He nearly came just from that sound alone, the way you worried even while your body trembled beneath his.

Maybe he even started doing it on purpose.

Slowing down just enough to get clipped, a bruise here and there, sometimes a gash. Nothing fatal nor serious. Just enough to limp through the door and earn that panicked little gasp from you.

But you didn’t need to know that part, sweetheart.

Just keep fussing over him, cupping his face with worried hands, kissing the bruise on his jaw like it hurt you more than him.

Yeah, no he’d be fine

I have barely been active on tumbler recently so I apologize for that and the fact this is lowkey short lmao

Simon “Ghost” Riley x You

TROPE: grumpy x teasing

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SUM: It turns out that even the deadliest men can stumble... when they accidentally cop a feel.

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It starts innocently. You're climbing down from the truck bed after a long, tiring day. Grumbling about your knees and cursing the military for not installing ladders.

Simon's waiting at the back, arms crossed, half-smirking.

“Quit complainin’. I’ve jumped out of helicopters higher than that,” he says.

You glance over your shoulder, feigning a glare.

“Wanna swap knees with me?”

He steps closer with a sigh, gloved hands raised as if he’s about to help someone twice your age cross a street.

“C’mere. I’ll catch you.”

You hesitate — not because you don’t trust him, but because he’s never offered before. Never asked to be close. Never asked for you to fall toward him.

So you do.

Facing away from him and hop down, just a little faster than planned.

And his hands catch you.

But they're not on your waist.

It’s… lower.

His palms clap firmly around the curve of your ass, all instinct and zero hesitation.

Your boots hit the ground within a second, but he still doesn't let go.

You turn your head to look at him.

He is frozen.

Not blinking. Not breathing.

The tips of his ears go unmistakably pink behind the mask.

“That where you meant to catch me?” you ask, one brow raised.

His voice, when it comes, is a gravelly mutter — defensive, raspy, like his entire brain has just short-circuited.

“Was tryna’ stabilize you.”

“Uh-huh.”

He drops his hands like they’ve burned him. And taking a full step back like you’re radioactive.

“Y’gonna sue me?”

You laugh. Loud. Honest. And when you walk past, you make sure to sway just enough for his eye to twitch.

Later, when sitting by the fire, nursing a flask, you murmur just loud enough for him to hear:

“Next time, Ghost, you can ask first.”

And the man — the battle-hardened, skull-faced soldier — has to look away, hiding the smile behind his hand.

How TF 141 + König react to nonsocial!reader saying you want to go home

Tags: Fluff

WC: 368

A/N: I haven't written anything for months so this was really fun. Hope y'all enjoy!

Ghost wants to go home too. This party wasn’t even his idea. How you and Price convinced him to go, he will never understand. The lights are too bright, everyone is too loud, and he doesn’t even like these people. They shouldn’t take it personally, Simon doesn’t like most people. The second you say those words, her perks up like a dog hearing it’s name called. He doesn’t bother with goodbyes and certainly not any hugs or “it was so good to see you” or “we should do this again”. No, not with Simon. He takes your hand and books it to the door. His large frame nearly knocks a few people to their asses in his haste, but he doesn’t care. His mission is to get the both of you out of this party no matter who he has to take down on the way out.

"We're back!" The Captain called out as he and the Lieutenant shuffled into the 141's private common room, kicking the door shut behind them; their arms much too preoccupied with cradling the bountiful feast they'd set out.  "Gaz, they were outta vegetable spring rolls, mate. Your just gonna have to cope without this occasion-"

However, the pair of commanding officers came to a screeching halt as they took in the scene before them. You - the Task Forces newest addition - quite clearly upset and your fellow Sergeants sat on either side of you. The old, worn brown leather couch sagging under yours, Soap and Gaz's weight.

"Didn't think no spring rolls would be such a big deal" Ghost murmured dryly as he took in your tears, his eyes crinkling into what might have been a confused scowl behind his skull-printed balaclava.

"What's going on?" John asked as he shuffled further into the room, setting the steaming bags of take-out down on to the counter of the kitchenette - the small kitchen space all but shoved into one corner of the common room. His brow furrowing into a soft frown as he tried to make sense of the situation.

He'd always been a bit of a softie when it came to his Sergeants, not that he'd ever admit it.

"Their partner-" Kyle began to explain before Johnny cut in with his own grumble, continuing to gently rub at your back.

"Ex."

"-just dumped them over text" Gaz continued, ignoring the Scotsman.

"How could they do this to me?" You whimpered between another choked sob.

The sudden break-up didn't exactly come as a surprise to the team, per say. It had been a long time in the making. Yet, unfortunately it appeared everyone but you had seemed to realise the decline of what once was a happy relationship.

The arguments, last minute cancelled plans, short periods of ghosting - you had simply chose to believe that you and your ex had just been going through a rough patch. After all, you'd been together a few years now and you'd thought you'd known them better than to just end things over text...  apparently you didn't.

"What a fuckin' idiot," Simon scoffed in his typical blunt fashion, taking the rest of the squad by surprise; your sobs quietening to upset sniffles as you blink at him. Setting his own bags of goodies down on the counter beside the Captain's and reaching for the plates up in the cupboard to begin dishing up the team's usual Friday Night takeaway. "Lettin' someone like you slip through their fingers."

"See, bonnie? Ah told yeh tha' yeh were too good for tha' wanker," Soap joined in, gesturing to the Lieutenant victoriously. "Has tah be true 'cause even LT agrees!"

"I just.. I just thought they were the one, yanno?" You shrugged, arms wrapping around yourself in a self-hug, shaking your head; reluctant to believe their reassurance. "I feel so stupid..."

"Oh, dove, got yourself into a right tizzy, haven't you?" John sighed sympathetically, abandoning the Chinese takeaway for the time being and padding across the room. Before slowly kneeling down in front of where you sat, his knees cracking as he did, large hands falling atop your knees and giving them a light squeeze. "If they couldn't be bothered to do the right thing and give you closure face-to-face then I'm afraid I have to agree with the lads. You deserved better than a bloody text after years spent together."

"And you not stupid," Kyle added, nudging you with his elbow and offering one of his most charming smiles. "See it this way - at least you know now before you wasted anymore time on that tosser, yeah?"

That earned the barest hint of a smile, the corners of your lips twitching upwards.

"Anyway," Soap grinned, seeing an opportunity as your distress began to waver. Playfully flexing his biceps and earning a real laugh from you. "Who needs them when yeh have us, aye?"

"If we're done with the dramatics," Ghost chimed in, drawing attention back to the now plated take-away. "Foods going cold."

And, as the 141 finally settled onto the sofas with their plates - turning on that film Johnny had been yapping on about wanting to watch for weeks, it didn't slip past you that the usually-brooding Lieutenant had given you his share of the prawn crackers.

Perhaps Price wasn't the only softie when it came to his teammates being upset...

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Hi, all! Beanie here!

Incase you didn't know, I actually run a discord server named 'Beanie's Tea Room' ❤️ we host movie nights, gaming lobbies, art competitions and have so many fun people from all walks of life within the server.

I also post sneak peaks of my writings ahead of time 🤭

Link to Server: https://discord.gg/bVGMDzZC4G

A Gaz coninutation of THIS amazing shot by @sheepispink

The indented is their work, included for context. Pleaseeeee go read their full oneshot if you're a Price lover I ate it upppppp

TL;DR: "You can't hate me if you think I'm cute >:3"

Mentions of injury, third person POV, one-sided beef to lovers my beloved <3, military inaccuracies

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You had worked beside Price for well over three years now, following him across the world on countless missions. In fact, you started off as a nobody. Barely a kill to your name, and then the troops started to lose numbers, and all of a sudden you were forced to learn too fast and instead fight to survive rather than win. And then he came along— Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, though you secretly nicknamed him “pretty boy” and not in a good way. Still, you’ve been with Price for three years, so how come he’s still better than you? However, when he gets injured for the first time, you instinctively take it upon yourself to haul him all the way to exfil, his limp body hanging on your back, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a smearing mess. “Sorry- I— didn't mean—“ He coughs harshly as he holds onto you, feeling guilty of his slip up as you now march through the uneven land.  “It’s fine.” You say quietly in response, because truthfully your anger has simmered down since you heard his voice falter over the comms. Price barely got an answer in before you announced your change of action. You stop halfway through, finding an abandoned settlement before you continue your journey. He’s settled on a worn couch, the soft sounds of clatter as you look around for any clean clothes or other things to help. Eventually you manage to get some clean water, bringing it over as you start the routine of caring for his wound. The gash is rather deep, and it takes you careful precision to pack the gauze properly and wrap it after. “Ow..” He groans as you hoist him up and let him lean on your body, continuing the way. “I shouldn’t have moved forward and risked that- I could’ve—“ “You gave Price the opportunity to enter and get what he needed. The choice you made brought a great reward.. besides, you’ll heal quickly.” You don't mention how when you had been stabbed deep in your leg, no one came back to get you. Who looks for the unskilled soldier in charge of practically just keeping a good eye? You dragged yourself out of that hell with injuries that could’ve had you discharged forever. “Thanks to you, I will.” He murmurs, voice close to your ear as he leans heavily against you, wincing every time he moves the leg too much. “I'm not going to lie.. I thought you hated me.” That gets something out of you, close to a scoff, but more of a snort. “Trust me, I do.” That makes him chuckle too, now putting in the effort to push himself for each step too. “Then why’d you run to help me? You could’ve let someone else come.” “I’m not stupid— I don't leave soldiers behind. Besides, Price likes you too much, I can't let you die out on him.” You make sure Kyle gets back safely, right beside him in the helicopter all the way back to base, even then you escort him to the infirmary too. It’s annoying how easily he worms into people’s hearts, practically sneaking inside like it’s infiltration. 

Given your initial disliking for the newer Sergeant, you found yourself in Gaz's company often. He catches you on your way too and from Price's office. It can be argued that you started the friendship, following up on his healing once or twice. Once the spring got back in his step, he's spending all his free time with you.

Meals? "Save you a seat, mate."

Training? "Fancy a go? Gotta make sure I can still beat ye."

He catches you working late? "Let me take some o' this off your plate. You work too hard anyway."

He did find his way into your heart, but not just from the quality time togther. He's sweet, validates your thoughts and feelings, voices your concerns to the 141 when you're unsure. He sees you. Sees you the way you spent the last three years wishing your Captain did. It's strange; this guy you once saw as nothing more than a workplace rival was now ingrained in your heart. He's cute, admittedly. Smart, funny, kind, and a beast in the field.

"I never properly thanked you."

His comment breaks the long silence that had fallen upon you both at the late hour. You're on a stakeout, already two days into the week-long operation and fell into comfortable silence watching a nearby building that intel believes is being used as a secret Koni base.

"For what?"

"Saving my arse that day." You turn, meeting his eyes to find them and his smile softer than you're used to. "Didn't expect you to come back for me. An' stayin' with me after? Meant the world."

Your head tilts. To you, leaving no man behind is the bare minimum. Sure, you didn't have to literally hold his hand the whole ride back to base, but you also didn't dare to let go.

"Got your back, Garrick. No matter what happens."

"Please, just Kyle is fine." He offers you a bite from the granola bar he'd been snacking on. "Here. Gotta take care of Cap's favorite."

You scoff. "Thought you were the favorite."

"Compared to you? Tha's like comparing a spark to a firework, Luv."

He motions to the bar once more and you lean forward to take a small bite, maintaining eye contact. You didn't mean to come off flirty, but you don't deny the way he nibbles on his bottom lip under your gaze is pretty damn cute.

"You think that highly of me?"

"We all do." His eyes move between yours and the granola bar -- or maybe, your lips -- seemingly unsure of where to look. "You're not in the dirt as often as we are, sure, but you do twice as much behind the scenes. We'd be lost without you."

Your own smile grows at his words. You did feel undervalued considering all you've accomplished in such a short amount of time. Then with the creation of Task Force 141, you're not even a member. You just 'help out' sometimes.

"Thanks, Kyle," you say earnestly. "I needed to hear that."

"Of course, Luv."

Comfortable silence returns, only Gaz scoots a little closer to you. It's already past midnight and sleep was surely calling your name. Before you can ask his preference on taking the first shift, Gaz is wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. His arm lingered, protective, like he planned to pull you closer as you relaxed.

"I've got you this time, Luv." He smiles.

"Since when do you call me 'luv'?"

He only shrugs. "Once I was sure you stopped hating me enough to let me get away with it."

You roll your eyes at the tease. Truly, you don't think that hatred was genuine. You were just jealous that he was so quick to recieve the praise you were after. Gaz being the one to start giving you that praise quickly rewired the way you thought about him.

"Ugh. I should've let you bleed," you groan, though it was clear Gaz understood you didn't mean those words when he let a little giggle slip through his pursed lips.

"You wouldn't," he jokes back before softening once more. "That's why I like you. Honestly? You carryin' me like I weighed nothing was the most attractive thing you've ever done."

You snort, much like how you did that day you carried him to safety. "Shut up."

His response is immediate: "Make me."

You lock eyes again.

"Alright, pretty boy."

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