I just know that in his free time, when he isn't reading or training or with Soap (hell, sometimes even when he is with Soap. At least, after he gets comfortable) Ghost will watch the weirdest, most random shit on Youtube. He is absolutely a video essays kind of guy (a man after my own heart, truly).
Like Soap will come into Ghost's quarters and toe off his boots and Simon will have his soft balaclava on and will have is phone turned landscape between his two massive hands and will be staring at the screen so intently. He won't even say anything to John as he comes in. John will kind of look over at him, back pressed against the door and arms crossed over his chest, and he can't help but smirk and quirk an eyebrow because Simon is just so cute when he is letting himself enjoy things. He is so eager to learn, and when he latches onto to something, he wants to know everything there is to know about it. Johnny thinks it is some of the cutest shit ever.
"Whatcha watchin', darlin'?" John asks from the door.
"A video about the science behind the biggest oil rigs in the world." Simon says in a way that is rushed and preoccupied, not even looking up at Johnny.
John will just sort of laugh to himself, and lets his grin tug up into an actual smile. He walks over to the bed and slides himself neatly into Simon's side, while Simon lifts up his arms slightly, but still does not stop the video, to make more room for his Johnny. When John finally settles in, Simon will plant the quickest, most chaste kiss on John's head through his balaclava, and he will feel his cheeks redden at the small sign of affection, even when Simon is sucked into some topic that makes absolutely zero fucking sense.
Hands That Are Softer Than Voices (request)
2009 Soap/Ghost One Shot
AN: One of my wonderful readers requested some fluffy smut.
Summary: "That's how it was supposed to be; to service, manage, and maintain each other…"
Lieutenant Riley thought that listening to Tommy's banal whispers as he stared at the dorm entrance was a good way to spend his time, waiting for his captain to come home. Whether Tommy was in a dark mood today or he just had a bad case of boredom, he talked as if he knew a great deal about death; and for a man who was already rotting in the ground, he surely did.
Like something paranormal and unnatural, Tommy stuck around the longest out of all of them, and it took Ghost everything he had in him to not speak out loud; his tongue flapping in his mouth like a miniature heartbeat, if anyone in the mess hall heard, he'd be seen as even more of a freak than he already was. Mess hall was always too loud for Ghost anyway.
Loud stomps had Ghost looking up from his feet; captain Soap MacTavish made his way through the rows of empty cots. He looked like somebody you would try to avoid sitting next to. Up close of course, once you'd been around him a while, gained his trust, there was a warmth in his eyes; something that drew you in, in spite of yourself. But at first glance, he was, to say the very least…intimidating.
Soap had taken to taking off his gear once inside, toeing off his shoes and lining them by his own double sized cot, then taking off his JPC plate, not liking the placement, taking it off the hook, then placing it back on the hook for a second time beside his bed.
Too buried into his routine, he looked up when he realised Ghost had been there, staring at him. Waiting patiently. It was when Soap began folding his belt, the worn leather creasing as he set it down on the bedside table when he heard concealed laughter behind the mask.
"Something funny, Riley?" Soap asked with no real venom behind it, only endearment.
"Just like watching you, sir" he heard Ghost say, matching Soap's adoration.
Soap hummed. It was dinner at the moment, and knowing full well why Ghost wasn't at the mess with the other squad-mates, grabbing the pill dispenser with small lettering on it: days of the week marked down. He knows the man has trouble taking care of himself, and he had touched down just in time to take care of him. Soap sat on the bed beside Ghost, opening the 'Wednesday' compartment of the pill dispenser and gave it to Ghost.
"Aye? Ye like what you see?"
Ghost swallowed down the pill dry, mask pulled over his nose. When he didn't answer, Soap tried to get his attention again.
"What do ye think?," He asked. "What do you make of me?"
Ghost shrugged, finally snapping out of his gloomy reverie. "I think you've gotten more chunky since the last time I saw you." He said in a serious drawl.
"Chunky?" Soap's show of mocked annoyance, the raised voice and wounded expression, barely masked how genuinely pleased and utterly happy and taken back he was with Ghost's gallantness and brash comment. "What do ye mean "chunky"?"
Ghost sniggered and reached out to wrap his arms around his captain's waist, silently asking to be closer to him. Soap pressed kisses against the back of Ghost's hand, his beard felt prickly against bare skin; a perfect distraction from his darkening mind.
"Missed you, Soap." Ghost murmured softly.
They hadn't mentioned why Ghost wanted to be alone, but he didn't need to. It was there all the time, the synapses sparking, the associations bursting into life in his head and forcing themselves upon them both, in spite of their best efforts.
"I missed you the most."
Those dark auburn furry caterpillars on Ghost's face were good for something, as they raised quizzically, surprised to hear the captain say it out loud. "Yeah?"
"Aye. Couldn't wait to get my hands on ye, couldn't wait to have your hands on me…" Soap should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. He genuinely believed that in this life, he was made to service, maintain and manage Simon Riley. Clearly Ghost felt the same as he watched his captain twinge in pain when he went to kiss him; shocks of tightness shooting up his neck from years of whiplash trauma and fractures during times of service.
Soap's job was to piece Ghost back together and keep things in line despite life's curveballs, while Ghost gave back what he got, tenfold. That's how it was supposed to be; to service, manage, and maintain each other…
Soap's refusal to let Ghost take care of him had made the Brit antsy, on his stomach against the cot's scratchy sheets while the captain's fingers slicked with oil had made circular motions against the rim of Ghost's hole; adding pressure here and there, changing from clockwise to counter clockwise motions. He enjoyed watching Ghost's rim quiver and flutter around nothing, anticipating the stretch that was to come.
"Shush, baby. Let me do this for ya." Soap pressed kisses down Ghost's spine.
"You're still in pain, Soap."
It didn't matter how injured the captain was, how much his joints ache. No amount of physical pain could take him away from his role as the loving boyfriend.
It's rewarding for Soap hearing the whimpers, little moans muffled by the pillow underneath. As long as Soap kept Ghost's attention on him and away from the overthinking, the invisible darkness that plagued him. Slowly massaging his Simon's warm walls with two fingers, finding his sweet spot; Simon raised his hips against the intrusive fingers after Soap found it. Then came the begging and pleading for an inevitable release deep inside his guts, and Soap, not wanting to tease his lover, oiled up another finger and began pistoning three thick fingers into the man below him at a quicker pace, kneading in a consistent pattern. Simon wriggles his hips at the attention, and Soap loves watching the oil drip from the man's rim down to his balls. Simon can't stop the wave of pleas when he feels his captain's face between his cheeks and adds a warm, wet tongue to the mix.
"Bloody hell! Captain! Yes! Oh, fuck, captain! Soap! Yes! Right there, Johnny! Please, I'm- I'm..!"
Soap's fingers massage the back of Ghost's quivering thighs when he comes against the cot's sheets, crying against the pillow. Soap presses his tongue flat against his fluttering hole, muttering praises against warm skin. Soap ignores the pain in his shoulders, neck and spine.
"Such a good boy for me, Simon. You did so good for me, baby. You're perfect."
Feel free to ask for requests. Art or writing!
Twitter: @ Ultrakombo_
Instagram: @ Ultracomboart
AO3: @ ultracombo
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/John “Soap” MacTavish
Tags: 09 Ghoap, Ghost lives, trans Simon “Ghost” Riley*, life affirming sex, semi-public sex, smutty drabble, plotless, just for kicks, written fast and put away wet
Something I wrote while possessed by a horny demon over on discord to my beloved @echo-arctrooper, cleaned up and posted here for shits and giggles. Hope you like it 💛♥️💛
*words to describe Ghost’s junk: hole, tender spot, inside/s
They got the warning just in time ‘Don’t trust Shepherd’ - he and Roach were out of there like a shot. Picked their way back to the remnants of TF141, found his captain the love of his afterlife alive but swearing up a storm.
Dragged the bigger man by the bitch strap off into a corner and slammed their faces together hard enough to crack a tooth.
“You’re alive.” Soap whines between kisses.
“Fuck me!” Ghost demands, clawing at his scorched equipment.
Soap hauls Ghost up by the hips, feels a beautiful weight settle around his own, and resolves to maul his boy until the last of the fear is gone.
“You’re alive.” Soap pulls Ghost’s trousers down, struggles because there’s no way he’s letting the man go to do it.
“You’re alive.” Soap wrestles his cock out his jeans, pumps himself once, rips at Ghost’s underwear.
“You’re alive.” Soap shoves himself deep inside Ghost’s body, feels his warmth clench hard around him, works his hips so he’s fucking hard and deep.
“Alive.” Ghost gasps, whines high in Soap’s ear, “I’m alive. You’re alive.”
Neither of them are interested in taking their time, it’s a rush to cum, Soap works a hand between their bodies and rubs at Ghost’s tender spot until he cries out and clenches hard enough to bully Soap’s cum right out his balls and into Ghost’s hole.
“We’re alive.” John pants, kisses Simon’s neck, breathes the comforting smell of gunpowder and sweat on his lovers hot skin.
They would need to get back out there, to come up with some kind of plan, go rain down vengeance and righteous fury until it was over. For now, John groaned into a sweat and breath slickened neck, worked to keep his flagging cock tucked up inside to feel the last jolts of Simon’s orgasm, and finally breathed deeply once again.
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“I'd reach for you again and again. Even if I'd lived, part of me would have died there with you. I couldn't have survived losing you.”
(BBYR I’M NOT CRYING YOUARE ARRHRHAHHHHH)
Just read a fic where rebooted 141 remember their past life in the og series and I just can’t stop sobbing at how they have to relive their pain and suffering through dreams
And how they have to bear the memories of their death alone, by themselves before they have each other again in this life
(It’s 1:30am for fuck’s sake)
If mw3 coming up this November is going to be smt like that
I think I will just cry myself to sleep and refuse to accept that entire plot at that point
( this is the cause of my current situation, please read it because it’s wonderful af
In Another Life by AvaLoren )