thinking about simon fucking you stupid after he was away for weeks on a mission.
he had barely walked two steps through the doorframe before your chest was colliding with his, your arms wrapping around his neck as you placed kisses anywhere you could see skin.
“well, hello to you too, lovey.” you were silent as you continued your attack on his flesh. you nipped and suckled at his neck as you somehow pulled him to the bedroom, trying to maneuver his frame around so he could sit on the bed.
that’s how you found yourself here.
your back was pressed against his front, legs trembling as he dragged his cock out of your soppy cunt. your clothes were scattered around the room - some on the bed, some on the floor. simon had managed to swipe your panties, discreetly shoving them in his pocket before he removed his pants.
his hands held a firm grip on your hips, surely there was going to be a bruise - a little surprise for when you woke up. he set a brutal pace, leaning over to try and catch a glimpse of his shaft going in & out of your messy folds. the sounds you let out were obscene, a mix of whines and high-pitched moans.
you couldn’t focus on anything besides what was being given to you. your vision blurred as your hearing went fuzzy, your mind practically turning to mush as the coil in your lower stomach started to unwind.
a slap to your puffy clit pulled you right out from your daze, a loud whine escaping your throat as you looked up at the perpetrator, eyes glazed over, pupils blown wide with lust.
“oh, just look at you. don’t know what to think or say when my cock is stuffed deep in your cunt, do you? don’t you worry, sweetheart. just leave all the thinking to me, yeah?”
just wanna be yours ; ghost
tags/featuring: fem reader, misogyny, unwanted advances, reader experiencing what literally every fem presenting person experiences on a daily basis, ghost protecting reader, ghost drinks respect women juice, simp ghost, smut, multiple orgasms
notes: italics are flashbacks. dedicated to my bestie @whore4dilfs
playlist: i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys, will be linked as well
word count: 3,257
🏷️: @viylikescats @whore4dilfs @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @shadowycreatormentality @blackrose4242 (if ur striked out, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag u, sorry)
Your senses are overwhelmed by Simon and Simon only.
Tears pricked at your eyes and you panted with every thrust of his hips. It took every ounce of your willpower not to let out obscene moans when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
“No, no, no. none of that. You’re gonna let out every single moan and fucking whimper,” Simon growled, biting against your shoulder.
It all started when Graves directed his attention towards you.
Now, Simon couldn’t blame him because he didn’t want to become official with your relationship yet. He insisted that it was because he didn’t want you to get hurt, but since you work on the same team, you’re going to get hurt regardless.
So, to the rest of the team, you were completely available. Soap would throw in some harmless flirting from time to time but that was nothing compared to Phillip Graves, who would constantly ask you out on dates or comment about your love life.
Soap’s harmless flirting also never made you uncomfortable or scared, unlike Graves’ whorish attempts that always put a pit in your stomach. Thankfully though, Graves’ attempts at pursuing you were always slyly shot down or interrupted by Ghost.
Whenever you asked him why he would interfere constantly, he would stick with the same bullshit answer, “I can’t have him distracting you on the job.” You would scoff and roll your eyes, and he would let you because it was easier than telling you the truth. That he blocked any of Graves’ advances towards you because he’s in love with you. That he needs you in his life more than he needs the very air in his lungs. That he can’t breathe at the thought of you getting hurt.
He convinces himself that you’re safer if you’re not in a relationship with him. He convinces himself that if he lets you into his heart, a target will be painted on your back.
So he resigned himself to loving you from afar. That was good enough for him. As long as he could protect you and your friendship, he would be alright with not loving you openly.
Protecting you meant that every single time Graves approached you with that slimy grin, Ghost wasn’t far behind - ready to cut Graves off and shield you from his unwanted attention. He is hot on Graves’ heels the second he sees your eyes widen a fraction or your breath quicken. Ghost’s hackles ride the most when he sees the tale tell sign of an oncoming panic attack; you picking at the skin around your nails, leaving them raw and bloody.
Wherever Graves struck up a conversation with you and Ghost was in your vicinity, the Lieutenant would bark a command to some poor recruit. His loud, booming voice would simultaneously distract Graves and pull your attention back to your Lieutenant. Just the way Ghost liked it.
Other times, he would make up tasks for you that involve following him to his office or to the gym. Or following him to literally anywhere that Graves wasn’t. He might tell you that he’s having trouble with documents so he needs you to follow him to his office. He might say that Price called a meeting, when in fact, he never called one at all.
This was one of those times. Ghost was in the gym doing deadlifts when he heard Graves’s grating voice peeking out from his headphones. He tried to ignore it as he kept pumping the weights and pushing his limit, but to no avail.
“I mean, I see you around here all alone, and I just think it’s such a waste.” Ghost hears as he turns his headphones off. He waited a moment to hear whoever Graves was flirting with, if you could even call it that.
Ghost continued lifting the weight, jaw ticking when he heard your timid and shaky voice respond, “That’s nice of you to say, but—,” before Graves rudely cut you off.
“I could treat you—,” Graves was interrupted by Ghost dropping his iron weight on the padded floor, letting it bounce loudly. Graves was jolted from the conversation immediately and his eyes flashed to Ghost, who was now striding over to the two of you.
Your anxious demeanor calmed immediately once Ghost approached Graves, now replaced with a mixture of nerves and excitement. You knew Ghost had a possessive nature about him but no matter what, he would always put your safety first. And the second he noticed that anxious look on your face, or the way your eyes glanced toward the exit door as if planning an escape? His instincts went into overdrive, to not only claim what was his, but to protect what was his.
“Can I help you with something, Lieutenant?” Graves asked, annoyed that he was interrupted. He crossed his arms as he stared back at Ghost, who was now only standing a few feet from the two of you.
“You can, as a matter of fact.” Ghost replied cooly, without missing a beat. He spared a single glance at your nervous figure and without any hesitation, waved you over to stand next to him. You obeyed immediately, moving to stand behind the brooding soldier as he held his arm out to protect you.
As you eagerly took your spot behind him, your eyes grazed over him, admiring his muscles that were on display. You gulped, watching as his arms flexed and his veins bulged as his hands balled into fists.
You could tell he was getting agitated.
“What you can do is take a fuckin’ hint and leave her alone.” Ghost shot back.
“And how exactly does this concern you, Riley?” The American shot back with a roll of his eyes, which Ghost didn’t take too kindly to.
“It concerns me because you can’t take no for a fucking answer, you piece of-” Ghost spat, taking a step further until he was in Graves’ face.
You reached for Ghost’s shoulder and tried to pull him away. You would love nothing more than for him to put Graves in his place, but you knew Ghost would get punished as well for getting into an altercation.
“Okay, LT. I think he gets the point. You get the point, don’t you, Graves?” You narrowed your eyes at the American, daring him to go any further.
“Sure do, Y/N! I’m sorry, it won’t happen again! I assure you.” He scrambled, his southern drawl breaking as he apologized. He looked back and forth between you and Ghost, gauging his reaction.
“Okay, great! Then why don’t we get out of here?” Without waiting for Ghost’s response, you dragged him out of the gym and away from Graves.
You kept dragging him by his wrist all the way to the showers, his boots hitting the pavement behind you.
“You know I appreciate it when you do that but you’re just gonna get yourself in trouble one of these days.” You muttered as you put your locker combination in for a change of clothes. He waited patiently next to you, studying your face while you opened your locker. You could feel his gaze burning into you.
“I’ll deal with that if it comes to it.” He waved your concerns off. You sigh at his nonchalant attitude, grabbing your towel and change of clothes.
“Not if, when, Ghost. You keep putting yourself in positions like that and Shepherd will have you on probation. Especially for something stupid like that..” You mumbled the last sentence under your breath as you slammed your locker. You turned to walk away from him only to have him grab your wrist and pull you close to him.
“Defending you from that pervert is anything but fucking stupid. I can’t stand how he makes you feel. How you tuck tail and freeze whenever he talks to you. I see that.” He grounds out. His hand moves from your wrist to hold the small of your back, bringing you flush against his chest. His dark eyes bored into yours, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to.
“I see how scared you are, even if you don’t want to admit it. Even if you don’t wanna accept my help. I’m always going to be there.” He almost growls, his other hand moving to cup your cheek. His thumb traced small circles on your skin.
“I will always protect you.”
“Why?” You shot back, fire burning in your eyes. He visibly recoiled at the rare sight of your glossy eyes glaring daggers at him. He was so accustomed to two expressions from you: The first being your bright eyes, crinkling at the edges from laughing so hard at some dumb joke of his. The second being your face contorted in pleasure, throwing your head back as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you.
“Why do you care so much? You’ve made it clear that you only want something physical and I’m trying to respect that, I really am.” You blink at the rapidly building tears in your eyes, forcing your emotions down. You refused to break down in front of him, not when you knew how this would end.
You knew that he would brush off your feelings as just a lust fueled crush that would pass any day now.
“But you make it so fucking hard.” Every word that comes out of your mouth is like a punch to the gut for Ghost. He can hear the pain in your voice and he hates that he’s the cause of it.
“One day, you tell me that we can’t keep doing this because it’s a distraction for you. The next day, you’re showing up on your white horse to ‘defend my honor’.” You use your index fingers to make quotations in the air while you spoke the last three words. You’re animated as you rant, waving your hands and raising your eyebrows. It was clear as day that you’d been holding this feeling in for a long time.
“So which one is it? Do you want me or not?” Ghost felt his heart sink when your voice broke. You were at your breaking point, he knew that. You were done playing games. He knew that if he wasn’t honest right here and now, you would end this arrangement for good. He would never get to feel your soft skin under his callused fingertips or have your soft moans hit his ears.
So being honest is exactly what he would do.
“What kind of question is that? Do I want you? You.. you consume every thought in my head. Every room I walk into, you are the first person I look for.” He speaks every word so slow and languidly, leaning down closer to you. He moves the hand that was on your face down to your back so that both of his large hands were splayed across your back.
“You occupy every fucking inch of space in my soul. I cannot breathe when you’re not near me. Of course I fucking want you.” He shouts, his voice echoing off of the lockers.
You jolt a bit in surprise and your eyes widen in shock and disbelief. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as your mind races.
“That’s a sick fucking joke, Ghost.” You almost whisper, stomach feeling like lead as you avoid his gaze. There’s no way. There’s just no fucking way he would ever feel the same way about you, not after he adamantly denied it time after time. Not after he made the two of you promise that your arrangement would always be no-strings-attached.
“You don’t believe me?” He scoffs in your ear, his hands still sending tingles down your spine. He didn’t wait for your response before moving closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath on your neck.
“That’s fine. I’ll make you believe me.”
That’s how you ended up here.
In your quarters, naked, moaning and trembling under Simon as he thrusted into you. His big, rough hands were holding your thighs so your legs were pushed against your chest, putting you in a mating press position.
Skin slapping against skin, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. Your face was contorted in pleasure, brows furrowed and mouth hung open. Simon’s face was buried in your neck, grunting as his cock was squeezed by your tight cunt. Your cunt was sopping wet, your juices soaking his cock and mixing with his seed.
His mouth went to work on claiming you as his, for everyone to see. Licking, sucking and biting on the span of your neck, painting it red and purple like a necklace.
When he got to your jugular, he bit hard. You let out a particularly loud moan at the mix of pain and ecstasy. You could feel him smirk against your neck.
“Atta’ girl.” He praised, angling his hips to thrust even deeper.
“Oh God!” Your eyes rolled back as he hit the spongey spot over and over, the knot in your stomach unraveling as you came on his cock. That would make your first of many orgasms of the night.
“Just me, Lovie.” He muttered, pressing a wet kiss against the skin of your collarbone. The pet name fell from his lips so effortlessly, so naturally. You were too deep in your fucked-out state to even notice him use that name for you.
“I’m gonna ask you again. Do you believe me?” He asks, reaching two fingers down to toy at your swollen clit. Your juices mixed with his cum made obscene wet sounds as he rubbed the bundle of nerves. You cried out, still so sensitive as he rubbed mercilessly, not giving you even a moment of reprieve. His hips continued thrusting against your sweet spot. You could already feel the warmth in your stomach build again.
“I asked you a question. Do you believe me?” He demanded, slowing his thrusts so you would be able to respond.
You shook your head. It was small, but he noticed it all the same.
He clenched his jaw, and decided on a change of plans. He would fuck you until you believed him. He would pull every orgasm from you until you believed that he loved you. Every last drop.
So he hiked your legs up even further, ankles by his ears, and began pistoning into your swollen entrance. Your breath got knocked out of your chest from him hitting your cervix, only to turn into a wail as he slapped your abused clit, over and over.
Your second orgasm washed over you in waves, cunt squeezing around him and making him groan in pleasure. He fucked you through your high, rubbing your clit until your orgasm died down. By now, his happy trail was painted with your cum.
He never pulled out though. Instead, he stayed sheathed inside your warm pussy and pressed kisses to your ankle that was still hiked up on his shoulder. He watched your blissed out face as you came down from your high, admiring your parted lips and furrowed brows. Your chest heaved as you panted, reminiscent of how your breasts bounced just moments before. Your (hair type) hair was mussed and splayed across the silky pillow.
“How ‘bout now, huh?” He murmured against your ankle, dark eyes trained on your face. Your eyes opened after a moment, still a bit unfocused from two consecutive orgasms. You still looked up at him through your lashes, eyes all glossy and pupils blown from lust.
His eyes peered into yours, almost daring you to shake your head again. He almost wanted you to, truth be told. That would mean he would get to coax more toe curling orgasms from his girl.
You rolled your eyes just a fraction and let out a scoff. To others it might’ve sounded like a pant or just an exhale, but he was perfectly attuned to every noise and expression you ever make. He knew it was a scoff of denial and doubt.
“So fucking stubborn.” He growls deep in his chest, wrapping his arms around you to manhandle you as he wished. You let out a yelp as he completely changed positions.
With your cunt still squeezed around his cock, he sat back and pulled you into his lap with your legs wrapped around his waist. Your cunt was now damn near impaled on his cock, feeling impossibly full of his cum. He didn’t let you set the pace though, no. He was in control and you knew it, if the pathetic whimpers falling out of your mouth were anything to go by.
He palmed at your ass with his large hands and began moving your hips onto his dick and immediately you moaned against his shoulder. Hands grasping and clawing at his back, desperate to find purchase as he bounced you on his cock. With every bounce, he met it with an equally strong thrust into your cunt. Every thrust hit your g-spot just right, making the knot in your stomach tighten for a third time.
Your hips instinctively bucked towards the source of the mind numbing pleasure, grinding yourself on his cock. You let out needy whines with every sway of your hips. Every sound that fell from your lips was like music to his fucking ears.
Once you started building your own rhythm, he took his opportunity to remove one hand from your ass and use it to reach down past your stomach, and torture that swollen bundle of nerves once more.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—,” You babbled, slumped against his chest. Your throat was raw with how much you’ve been moaning, whining, screaming in ecstasy. Your nails were leaving red scratch marks across his back and he would wear them with pride.
You squeezed painfully tight around his cock and he knew you were so close, teetering on the edge, and you just needed some encouragement.
“Come on, give it to me. I know you can do it, Lovie.” He murmured right by your ear, his husky accented voice sending shivers down your spine.
He rubbed your clit a few more times as he leaned down a bit to bite your neck, growling into the skin.
The knot in your stomach broke and your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your third orgasm cascaded over you. You squirted onto him and milked his cock for every bit of cum it was worth, making him moan into your neck.
He felt warm puffs of air hit his shoulder as you panted in exhaustion. He reached up to cradle your head and stroke your hair.
“You believe me now? You believe that I love you with every fiber of my being? Because I do. And if you want me to, I’ll spend every waking moment proving it to you. No matter what. Whether that means protecting you and making sure you feel safe, or worshipping you like the goddess you are, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.
“That sounds good.” He heard you mumble sleepily against his chest. He chuckled, relief flooding his chest because you were giving him a chance.
“…You know I believed you the first time right? Just wanted to see how many times you could go.” You mumbled as you laid against his chest.
You felt his chest rumble with laughter at your admission.
“You little fucking minx.”
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader
Summary: The 141 finds out about your skincare routine, and you wonder if one of your teammates might benefit from having one also.
A/N: This is my debut piece for the CoD fandom. I fell fast and hard for MW, and I thought this piece up while scrubbing my face one night, trying to keep the acne at bay. I hope you enjoy!
As a sniper, you have to keep your face out of sight. You prefer face paint, camouflaging yourself to blend in. You’d gotten quite good as quickly painting yourself and heading out for whatever mission was next.
Unfortunately, on this mission, they decide rather last minute to use your sniping skills, simply shrugging when you asked for face paint. They hand you a balaclava, which would do the job fine.
You slip it on, slightly peeved that you couldn’t use your paint. There is a reason you wear paint. The longer you wear that face covering, the more you feel like you were going to choke on your own breath. It is hot and humid, and the balaclava gathers sweat and oil and dirt and hot breath, keeping them all close to your face.
Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you force yourself to take a few deep breaths, lifting the mask a bit to let some fresh air in from time to time.
You spend several miserable days out on that mission. The final morning when you pull on the balaclava, it rubs painfully against some recently developed acne.
Mercifully, the mission ends successfully, and you return to base. After a quick shower to degrime from your time in the field, all you want to do was fall into bed, but that acne is just getting worse.
Half asleep, you reach for your bottle of face wash. It was watermelon-scented pink gel that works wonders for you. You scrub your face with it, put on some moisturizer, and stumble your way to bed.
“What do you even need face wash for? Isn’t water good enough for the princess?”
You might have hit Soap for his teasing if you hadn’t detected a hint of genuine curiosity in the question.
“There’s no way water is going to cut through all the grime on your ugly mug,” you tease back. “For a guy called Soap, you should use some a little more often.”
“Ouch,” Soap says with a grin.
After a long day of training, you, Soap, Ghost, and a few other members of the 141 have gathered to just relax. You don’t know how the conversation turned to your skincare routine, but here you are. These boys are oddly fascinated with the care you give to your personal hygiene.
“I’m honestly surprised you guys don’t get acne more often. That one mission a few weeks back, I had to wear a mask the whole time I was in the field, and I broke out so bad,” you said. “It was awful!”
You caught Ghost’s eyes after that remark. *He* wore a mask all the time. But it was different for him. The mask was part of him at this point. It was freeing, somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite grasp; for you, it was smothering.
If you got that bad of acne from a couple days with your face covered, you had to wonder: did Ghost ever break out?
“You know, if you ever want to try it, I can give you a full rundown of the routine. Face wash, moisturizer, the whole works,” you said, directing your comment to Soap. Then, meeting Ghost’s eyes, you added, “You can’t miss the face wash. Bottle of pink gel in with my stuff.”
Soap snorts, and Ghost doesn’t say a word. You didn’t want to straight-out say that he could use your wash if he wanted to. After all, “skin care” didn’t have the manliest connotations. His eyes reveal nothing of his thoughts on the matter.
“Pink? I suppose it smells all fancy, too?” Soap laughs.
“Well, of course! Nothing too girly, though. Just some light, fresh watermelon scent,” you reply.
“Ah yes, watermelon! The manliest of all scents,” Soap says.
This time, you do hit him.
After a few days away on a mission, you are glad to be back on base. It hadn’t been a bad time out in the field, but it had been boring. You guess that’s better than things going horribly wrong, but you’d like at least a little fun while you’re out.
After a hot shower, you move to the sink to wash your face. You reach for your bottle of pink face wash. As you lift it, you realize it feels slightly lighter than it had before you left. You level the bottle, looking at how much is left. It’s not much emptier, but it’s definitely less than you thought you’d had before this mission.
But maybe you just were misremembering. After all, the bottle was exactly where you’d left it. You liked to display it in the corner with the cute watermelon decal facing outward, and that’s precisely how it had been.
With a shake of your head, you dismissed the thought and washed your face.
Your strides were quick as you made your way toward Price’s office. He’d asked to see you, and while it wasn’t urgent, you liked to make a good impression by being as punctual as possible.
In your haste, you nearly bump into Ghost, who’s turning the corner.
“Oh! Sorry!” you exclaim as you check up, barely keeping from smacking into him.
He nods at you as he continues on. As he passed, you swear you catch the scent of watermelon. You whip around, watching him walk away, but saying nothing before continuing to Price’s office.
You clutch the brown paper bag in your hand as you make your way to your lieutenant’s room. After slowly watching your face wash deplete seemingly on its own for several more days and catching a few more whiffs of watermelon whenever you were near Simon Riley, you were fairly confident you knew where it was going.
You didn’t want the man to have to keep using your face wash forever, though, so you’d gotten him a bottle of his own. Unfortunately, the stuff only came in the cute bottle with the watermelon decal, so you also bought a plain opaque bottle to put the pink gel in. You couldn’t resist adding a label with a skull and crossbones on it that read “Poison” just for fun.
The rest of the contents of the bag were some more intense acne treatments for breakouts and stubborn spots along with wipes for the black paint he used around his eyes and moisturizer. You’d also written a note with detailed instructions on how and when and what order in which to use the products.
You were just going to set the bag outside his door and maybe knock and run. The moment you bent to set it down, however, the door swung open to reveal Ghost.
His eyes met yours, then traveled down to the bag in your hand.
“What’s that?” he asked.
You blushed. Why did he have to catch you?
“It’s… um… for you,” you finally blurt and shove the bag at him.
Ghost gives you a suspicious look. He takes it and opens it before you can run. His eyes quickly scan the contents, and he pulls out the “Poison” bottle of face wash. He meets your eyes again. His eyes are nearly unreadable, but you catch a hint of curiosity there.
“Face wash,” you explain. “I thought maybe you’d like your own. And I put in some extra stuff, too. And instructions. If you want. Or if you… don’t.”
*Why* had you thought this was a good idea?
Ghost stares at you for a few more seconds, making you wish the floor would open up and swallow you. Finally, he breaks the silence.
“It was the frickin’ watermelon, wasn’t it?”
You blink. “What?”
“That day we met in the hall. You smelled it, didn’t you?”
“I… I thought I did,” you admit.
“You did a whole three-sixty after I passed,” he accuses. “Shoulda stopped using it then.”
“No!” you quickly say. “No, I’d hoped you’d use it. If you needed to. Or wanted to, even. I didn’t know if you’d really take me up on it.”
Neither of you speak for a moment. He stands there, face wash and bag still in hand.
“I can show you how to use the rest of the stuff if you want,” you suddenly offer.
Ghost gives you a sharp look.
“I mean, I’d do it on my face and explain it. You wouldn’t have to take off your mask or anything. I just thought…” you trail off.
You’ve stared down armed enemies before and not been this nervous. Now you are practically oozing awkwardness. The confident soldier was reduced to a bundle of nerves over a discussion about skin care.
“You wrote instructions, yeah?” he asks.
He hesitates a moment, shifting the bottle in his hand.
“Better run through it once so I can keep it all straight.”
You give him a bright smile, immediately turning on your heel and making your way to your sink where you keep all of your products. You look around carefully before entering with Ghost, making sure no prying eyes spotted you. Locking the door behind you, you arranged all of your bottles and containers, beginning the lesson.
Ghost listened intently as you explained what each product did and how to best use them, giving a nod here and here. You demonstrated and gave tips, like dabbing the face with the washcloth and towel instead of scrubbing it to avoid further irritation. You went through each step, making sure to take your time.
“And then you take about this much moisturizer,” you say, dabbing a bit on your finger and spreading it. “And you spread it evenly. If you have dry patches, you can give those a little more. But after that, you’re done!”
You turn and give him a smile.
“Thanks,” he says after a moment. “Thanks for… this.” He holds up the bag. “And for this.” He gestures vaguely, probably meaning your little lesson.
“Of course,” you say. “Can’t have my favorite L.t. going without proper skincare, can we?”
You both stand there a moment more. The silence is not uncomfortable. There’s something there, something unsaid, but you don’t mind. This is enough.
It takes you a moment to realize, but his eyes are smiling back at you.
I saw ur prompts post and wanted u to write the second one with 141 +konig while they're on a mission or accidentally hurting the reader during training (not any super serious injuries tho) would appreciate it 💖💖.
400 Follower Celebration
—“C’mere, let me see.”— With 141 + König
Summary: These are different situations where you get mildly to moderately injured and 141 + want to see.
[WARNINGS: descriptions of killing, mild gore, mild/moderate physical injury, fluff.]
-> John Price
“You need to work on your technique.” He huffs out, standing victorious on the training map. Price’s hands remain on his hips as you’re still crouched over on the mat, one hand holding you up while the other is covering your mouth and noise.
You don’t respond to him, instead you peel your hand from your face, glancing at it and then you cover whatever you’re covering right back up. You moved so fast Price didn’t catch onto what was in your hand, so his eyebrows furrow. His hands drop from his hips, approaching you. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” You say with a strained voice, muffled by your hand cupping your face. Price raises an eyebrow, not believing you. He crouches down, using one knee to balance himself. Price puts a hand on your back and the other grabs your wrist gently. “C’mere, let me see.”
You allow him to pull your hand away from your face and Price sputters when he sees the amount of blood in your hand. “Jesus bloody Christ!” He curses, letting go of your hand and grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes are watering from the pain and there’s blood dripping from your nose, smeared across your lips. John then stands up, murmuring, “Let me get you a towel and then get you to medical, yeah?”
-> Kyle Garrick
“Fuck!” You shout, your voice cracking. You grimace as pain blooms across your right arm, but you ignore and opt to shove the blade of your knife into this man’s throat. He begins to choke, wide eyed, his hands grabbing at yours. You yank the blade out of his neck and blood splatters over your face and clothing, and the man drops to the ground whilst holding his throat, red hot blood pouring through his fingers.
You pant and stare down at the man, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You barely acknowledge the deep gash in your arm besides a heartbeat residing in it’s place. Heavy footsteps come down the hall and into the corridor, Kyle shouting your name. “Hey, hey! Are you alright?” His voice is dripping worry, glancing at the man and then at you, his eyes widening when he sees all of the blood.
“Yeah, it’s.. it’s not mine.” You breathe out, ripping your eyes off of the bloody corpse in front of you. Your left hand skims over your right arm and—yep, there it is; you hiss in pain and cover the wound with your fingers. Your hand is trembling from the adrenaline, which combined with the noise, catches his attention.
“Are you hurt?” Kyle asks, his voice firm as he grabs your arm, his other hand grabbing your wrist. “C’mere, let me see.” Kyle moves your hand and grimaces for you, a small hiss coming from him. “Yep, definitely injured.” His thumb gently swipes at some of the blood coating your skin. “Let’s get you somewhere safe and get you some stitches.”
-> John MacTavish
You grunt as Soap’s arms are wrapped around your head with his legs locked around your waist and own legs, his forearm pressing against the front part of your throat. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you vaguely hear Soap teasingly shout, “Do you need to tap out?” You don’t respond as you struggle, trying your best to rip the man’s arms off of your head and throat. Your fingers grab at his flexing forearm, using all of your upper strength in an attempt to pry him off of yourself. “No shame in tappin’ out, bonnie..” His voice is low and cocky, tightening his hold around your help.
Being the stubborn person you are, you refuse. You attempt to gasp and you can feel your lungs heaving for air, your chest spasming. You close your eyes harshly as you don’t want to stare at the black dots swimming in your vision. In a last attempt to get him off, you buck your head forward—but your plan fails and you end up busting your lip open.
“Steamin’ Jesus-“ Soap’s tone is shocked as he immediately loosens his grip, giving you a second to gasp for air. You take this opportunity and use all of your weight, pushing Soap off of yourself. You ignore your bleeding lip and grab his arms, twisting them behind his back and you sit right on his legs, earning a grunt from him. “Hey- fuck, are ya bleedin’??” Soap grunts out, twisting his head to look at your face. His own lip curls up in concern, his eyes narrowing at you. You release your grip on him and crawl off of him, your fingers brushing against your lip. You wince, muttering, “Yeah.”
“C’mere, let me see.” Soap sits up and crawls over to you, cupping your cheek in one hand, the other balancing himself. “Ah, just busted it a bit. Guess that’s a lesson ta’not do that then, hm?”
You’re cooking some breakfast for Ghost while he’s on vactional-leave, humming in the kitchen. One hand is grabbing the handle of the pan, the other holding tongs over the pan, flipping the crackling bacon. You get so caught up in your time playing softly from your phone a few feet away that you forget to be careful and the bacon pops at you, hot grade covering a small patch of your arm. You can’t help the loud yell that leaves your mouth followed by a loud “Fuck!”
You hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway in a quick fashion, grumbling out loudly, “What happened?” Despite his grumbles, you know he’s concerned, especially when you’re holding your arm, you blink and he’s across the room—you blink again and he’s next to you. “Bacon got me,” You whimper out quietly, the humming of the pain and heat radiating through your skin.
“C’mere, let me see.” Ghost’s voice is low and rumbles through the air, crackling like fire with how rough it is. His large gloved hand takes your arm into it and allows you to uncover the grease burn yourself. Ghost gently pulls towards himself, grabbing under your arms and lifting you onto the counter. He reaches over and turns the stove top off, moving the pan to a cool burner. “Hey- what about the food?” You say softly, watching as he goes through a small drawer and grabs a small hand towel. “That can wait. We have to treat this before it gets worse.”
You’re running an endurance and strength training course when you get hurt. You do fine on the pull ups, the rope swing, but when you reach the tire hops? Your ankle ends up catching on the edge of the tire, a yelp leaving you as your ankle twists in an awkward way, sending waves of pain radiating up your leg. Your arms end up catching your body before you fully face plant and you pause for a moment, your whole body tensing up as swift swears leave your lips.
You hear your name being called and heavy footsteps against gravel before a pair of large hands gently grab you. “I-I saw you fall, Kumpel. Are you alright?” His voice is light with worry, and he moves downwards to softly dislocate your foot from the tire. You groan as soon as he touches your leg and you shake your head. “Fuck, that hurts—it’s my, my ankle..”
“C’mere, let me see.” He’s gentle when he gets your leg out of the fire and he quickly unties your boot. König helps you flip over to lay on your back with your leg in his lap. He slips off the boot with a hiss coming from you, making him quietly apologize as he removes your sock. Your ankle is swollen, but definitely not broken, nor dislocated. “It is a good idea to see the medics. I’ll carry you.”
ghost x fem!reader
warnings: NSFW; smut; MINORS DNI (i am watching u); reverse cowgirl
a/n: part four of my positions series. i promise the next thing i post will be fluff but if you're here, ENJOY
*going to post this then run and hide*
you could probably count on your fingers the number of times you were this fucked out. although, you were quickly running out of fingers.
you have your boyfriend to thank for that.
currently, you find yourself straddled on Ghost’s large thighs on the corner of the bed. your back is to him, but you can still see him clear as day thanks to the mirror propped up on your wall.
well, clear in a relative way; the bottom half of his face was covered in one of his signature skull balaclavas. a request made by you, of course.
ghost usually was against wearing those black masks in the bedroom, but you asked him so nicely earlier, with your eyes wide and lashes batting annoyingly. How could he say no to you?
so here you are a couple hours later, and you both are still going.
it must be the mask, you think (the mirror might be an added bonus as well).
seeing Ghost’s rock hard abs flex every time you slide down on him definitely did things to you. but you really did try your best to keep yourself composed, which didn’t sit well with Ghost.
he liked to see you squirm, and enjoyed every little bit of you losing composure because of him. so he tried his best to completely ruin you. and he was doing a pretty good job so far, seeing that this was your fourth round at it.
your legs feel like jelly but you soldier on, continuing to raise and lower yourself on Ghost’s thick cock, the imagine that reflects back to you spurring you on even more.
“fuck.” Ghost’s voice is deep, and there’s a trace of a whine as he drags out the word. he could be helping you, but he’s decided to let you take the reins. It only makes sense with what position you’re in.
“that's it baby, just like that.”
he brings one of his hands to snake around you, his hand now splayed across your tummy. he presses down gently, and the added pressure on your lower stomach has you letting out a moan.
you bring your hand up to cover his, although it really doesn’t cover much, since his hands are so much larger than yours. you slightly grasp his hand as you continue to move, but you need to go back to balancing yourself, so it falls down to his thigh where it previously was, your fingernails leaving faint crescent indents in his skin.
your room is in a state of disarray, your sheets are sloppily thrown around your bed, and your comforter rests at the bottom, on the floor. typically, you would care about the state of your room, but you can't find it in you to worry about that right now.
his hand travels down further until two of his fingers toy with your center. they quickly become slick, which allows him to touch you just right.
your legs tremble as he coaxes you over the edge, and you fall back against his chest. his fingers are still moving in circles around your sensitive bud, but before you can protest at the over sensitivity, you feel him come inside you.
you look back at your reflections in the mirror and see the mess between your legs, now exacerbated by Ghost's come that's seeping out of you.
he brings his other hand to lightly grasp your waist, steadying you, even though you're still leaning back on him.
he places a kiss on your shoulder through his mask, and before you know it, he lifts you off of him and swiftly places you down on your back, his face in between your legs.
you know what's coming next; it's his favorite way to clean you up, after all.
Be Mine? (request)
Tags: Swearing, my shitty attempt at jealous!Ghost, kabedoning (I TIRED OKAY?!), written with f!reader in mind
A/N: Alright listen I tried my damnest to write a jealous Ghost. I tried. I had to really poke my brain for this one but I know I can do better. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy! Also I think I’m running out of gifs of Ghost UH-OH
GIF NOT MINE
It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. Then again, how did Ghost expect things to go?
He couldn't exactly remember how he found out about your little crush. Soap probably told him. Or maybe you did. Either way, once he had that knowledge in his head, Ghost was quick to notice those lingering gazes or how you paid extra close attention whenever he was talking. Not to mention the way you always brought him a cup of tea once you learned he preferred it over coffee.
Yet Ghost didn't do a damn thing about it. There was no way you didn't know that he knew you had a crush on him. You were much smarter than that and yet, you still behaved and acted as you normally did. As friends and teammates would. After all, he was your LT and you were a Sargent, same as Soap and Gaz. It was against the book for anyone to have a relationship with someone of a lower rank but then again, Ghost was sure there were exceptions to the rules. He knew of married couples in the army who were, more often than not, different ranks then each other.
Yet he didn't bother really looking into those exceptions even after he found out you had a little thing for him. In fact, he forced himself to not go looking into those exceptions. He just had to wait it out right?
So why couldn't he get you out of his head?
It got to the point that seeing you talk to others were doing something to him. It was pings of anger directed to not you, but the person you were talking to whenever he walked in to find you in the middle of conversation. Why you were even talking to other guys when you had a thing for him he wondered.
Unless you had moved on finally? Though that idea sent a sharp ping through his chest and he was quick to drop that idea as soon as it hit. You wouldn't confess to a guy and just move on to the next guy just like that, wouldn't you?
You wouldn't and Ghost knew that. You were too kind for that.
It hit a peak when he noticed one of the recruits from the last class started making moves towards you. The recruit was a decent guy from what he heard. Good scores from training and hardly a discipline record. Just a couple of counts of being late to a training session once in a blue moon.
Aside from that, he was good looking guy if Ghost had to guess. He'd probably make a good partner to someone. But not to you.
No one would be good enough for you.
Except for Ghost maybe.
The idea of the two of you, shortly after that thought, started plaguing his mind on the near constant basis. It didn't help the two of you worked together and had to spend a fair bit of time together as a result, which only worsened the thoughts.
What were you like outside of this life? What was your place like? Was it decorated in a certain style or was it just random stuff thrown together? Did you go out to eat often or did you cook your meals often? What were you like in the mornings at home? What did you do for fun?
Days passed as Ghost continued to daydream about you being his while he watched over you go about your day at the base. All while talking to the recruit that wanted you as well. Ghost could only watch for so long before he finally decided one day enough was enough.
It was bad enough that the recruit had you almost cornered one day as he tried to talk to you into going on a date.
Ghost had turned the corner when he spotted the two of you in that position and at first, Ghost wasn't sure what he was seeing. But something in him snapped when you glanced over towards him with those eyes. Those eyes he had only seen once some time ago and refused to see again if he could avoid it.
Before he could say or do anything else, Ghost moved forward and was quick to place himself between you and the recruit, brown eyes locked on the recruit as the arm closest to the recruit leaned against the wall behind you to act as a barrier, effectively trapping you between the wall and himself.
"She said no mate." Ghost grunted out, forcing his voice to stay calm and steady while his eyes screamed murder at the recruit. "Get out of here."
"Y-yes sir!" The recruit stammered out, realizing that the LT of the 141 was right in front of him and clearly pissed off. "Sorry sir!" He added, quickly turning on his heels and rushing off. Ghost kept his eyes on him until the recruit turned a corner and vanished out of sight.
"Thanks." You sighed, glancing up at Ghost.
"You alright?" Ghost asked in turn, turning to look down at you. He found himself a little stunned by how close you were. Not to mention how small you looked pressed up against the wall.
"I'm okay. He just…really wanted a dinner date." You nodded, staring up at him with those same doe eyes you gave him shortly after he found out about your crush. Still, the idea of that guy taking you out on a dinner date. "I told him no but…"
"He didn't like that answer." Ghost finished for you to which you nodded. Even under the mask you could see the way Ghost's jaw seemed to move side to side as he tried to calm himself down. The idea of what could have happened if Ghost hadn't rounded the corner sat heavy in the LT's mind.
"Yeah." You sighed, lowering your eyes with a nod.
A silence fell between the two of you as you stood there, Ghost not moving from his spot while you stayed put leaning against the wall while he stood in front of you. Ghost wanted to say something, anything but the words kept getting caught in his throat, even as he slowly lowered his arm from the wall, A silent reminder that you two could leave anytime and go about your days.
And yet, he found himself glued to his place, staring down at you as you stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze.
"Would you say yes if I had asked?" Ghost finally asked, startling you as your head snapped up.
"If I asked you to dinner," Ghost continued, knowing damn well what hole he was digging himself. "Would you say yes?"
There was a silent, sharp inhale as you took a breath in while staring up at him. Meanwhile, Ghost stayed silent as he waiting for your answer, whatever it may be. He could see in your eyes you were taking a moment to contemplate your answer and how you wanted to proceed.
"I-" You paused, taking a breath before nodding. "I would've said yes." You told him, staring up into his eyes.
Ghost took a second to consider your answer, then nodded. "Good." He hummed, taking a step forward while you took a step back despite the wall behind you, watching as both of his arms reached up and rested next to you.
"Then let's go out to dinner." He said, watching as your eyes widened. "Let me make you mine."
Ghost made the mental reminder to look into those exceptions for married couples.
Reblogs, likes are appreciated. Requests open. Don’t repost without consent.
Task force 141 found out about your soft spots | Part 2
Summary: Ever since they saw the softer part of you, the task force 141 has been trying to see more of them.
a/n: This is a follow-up from the previous part! It can be read separately but part 1 gives more context :) Also! The dividers were made by @gomzdraws (which is also me lol) apologies if I took too long! I'll have to admit I got a bit carried away with part :>
Tags: incorrect military terms, fluff, can be read as platonic or romantic, horrible attempt at Scottish accent(I gave up near the end xD), mention of dog bites, x gn!reader
PLEASE DO NOT RESHARE MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION
Captain John Price
The two of you returned to base after just recently completing the mission; the target was secured and handled, and you rested in the general area as you looked through your phone again, updating your to-do list as you had stumbled upon the photo of the cute latter art previously. You stop and lean on the counter as you smile. It's so freaking cute, you think to yourself before a nudge takes your attention.
"Come", was all the captain said before you quickly followed along without questions. You’re always eager to follow any instructions he gives; maybe he needed to discuss the upcoming mission. But it’s obvious it's not going to be that as you sit in his car.
Where are we going?
You ask curiously as you fasten the seat belt. The Captain only gives you a smile as he presses the gas pedal. "Just getting something to eat", he replies as you nod and relax into the chair. Well, it's nearing evening, and you are, in fact, quite hungry, so a small bite before dinner doesn’t sound too bad. It wasn’t long before you finally reached your destination. It’s a quiet town that has a few stalls and shops, and you walk alongside the captain until you stop before a small cafe, tucked nicely at the end of the street.
You look through the window as you watch the few people and barista chilling inside. It looks warm and cosy; there were soft fairy lights lining the pale yellowish wall with brown pillars supporting the structure. The captain gently places his hand around your back as he guides you to enter the cafe. You follow along as you take in the fresh smell of coffee and pastries and the sight of the small place.
Price let you wander around for a while before taking a seat near the stairs, and a waiter quickly came as he greeted him.
"Ah John! It's been a while; I see you brought company." The older man then hands you both the menu as he chuckles and bumps the captain’s shoulder. Price nods back as he glances back at you and says, "Pick anything you want, it’s on me", You give him a surprised look before you nod and take a look. You smile as you look through the list on the menu; it has a lot of cute drinks and desserts, so he saw. You thought to yourself as you ordered a latte; it's apparently their best-selling drink with the 3D cat milk foam on top of the drink. The waiter nods as he looks at Price, to whom he orders tea and some apple strudels. The waiter takes down the order on his notepad before promptly returning to the counter and preparing the orders.
How did you find this place? You ask the captain as you take in the surroundings again; it's a hidden gem, that’s for sure, and the prices on the menu were not bad as well.
"I knew this place because Oliver, the man who took our order just now, used to go to the same college", you hum as a reply and nod.
It's a nice place, and I can’t wait to try the drink, you reply back with a smile as your eyes twinkle with excitement. The captain chuckles as he nods.
"Well, I didn’t take you as someone who likes these kinds of things, but it's a pleasant surprise, don’t worry. So I figured I'd bring you here."
He raised an eyebrow out of amusement as he watched you blush slightly. You huffed out a puff of air before you replied sheepishly,
Ah well, I guess cute things are my weakness after all; who would’ve guessed?
"Just don't let the enemy know, and you’ll be fine", the captain jokes back as your drink arrives, and you immediately close your mouth as you watch the foam wiggle around when it was placed gently on the table.
Oh my god, you whisper to yourself as you gasp and take in the sight, quickly taking your phone out and taking a picture. You glance back at Price with sparkling eyes as you tilt your head, giving him a "are you seeing this?" look as he chuckles and nods. He can feel the joy radiating from your face as you go ahead and stare at the drink, and the way you carefully turn the cup around to see the whole thing? Precious.
He watches you take a sip. You close your eyes and give a nod as you savour the taste. Not only was the drink cute, but the flavour was perfect as well. You can smell the coffee's aroma and see how smooth the drink is. You didn’t realise when you had a bit of foam below your nose as you smiled back at the captain.
Price couldn't help but laugh slightly as he took a tissue and wiped off the foam from your face. "Guessing you like it then?", you nod as you place down the cup and cover your mouth slightly to hide the pink blush that’s creeping up to your cheek.
Yeah, it's not too bitter, and it tastes pretty rich. I like it. You reply as you watch him hum and take his strudel and tea.
"Good, we can come here again next time". He says this as he gives you a warm grin and a wink.
John Soap McTavish
It was another week of training with the two military dogs, specifically Max and Judy, two German Shepherds who have been quite fond of you as they follow the training. Over the course of the regimen, you are supposed to reinforce essential handling techniques and carry out a few conditioning exercises like generalised commands. You may not be a military dog handler, but the training has definitely improved your skills to be one. Soap has joined you on a few training sessions and watches on the side as you smoothly handle the dogs, carrying out the essential steps and watching as the dogs follow you obediently. He finds it inspiring to see you train with the professional dog handler, Sergeant Sam, who has been offering a lot of help and tips.
Today, Sergeant Sam guides you through controlled aggression training for Max, something the dog has had some trouble with for the past few days. Max has shown a good level of precision when commanded to attack a target, but its restraint technique still needs more practice, as Max tends to move before you give your words. You coo and guide Max as you carry out the demonstration, pointing at the volunteer as Max growls. You hold onto the leash firmly when Max tries to run towards the target, and you speak with a steady, calm voice as you patiently coo at the dog.
Alright Max, steady. Not yet. Stay.
Your voice hushed Max as it reduced his growl and made him stand on the ground, no longer pulling on the leash, and wait for your next command.
Okay, good boy Max, you don't forget to praise it immediately. This is one of the many bits of advice given by Sergeant Sam, it is said to give the dog motivation and let it know it’s doing the right thing if you praise its action immediately.
You finally gave the signal after a while, and Max immediately went to jump and bite on the protective coat the volunteer was wearing, growling and displaying its aggression as you guided the dog. Sergeant Sam and you continue to practise a few more times with Max to properly train him to improve his restraining skills.
After a few hours, you were finally given a break as you sat on the floor, sweating as you gently rubbed Max’s head.
There you are, good boy Max~ So proud of you!
You whisper to Max as you feel something poke your back. You glance back and smile as you watch Judy (the other military dog) wagging its tail and giving your cheek a lick.
Ah! Judy, did you miss me? Hey now, who’s a good boy~?
You immediately shower Judy with attention and pat its head as you glance up to watch Soap approaching you. You wave to him as he stands at a distance. You watch his nervousness show as he rubs his neck and taps his foot repeatedly on the ground. You then stand up and order Max and Judy to sit and remain still on the floor as you walk to Soap.
Sergeant Soap, good to see you. You greeted him with a smile as he relaxed slightly and smiled back at you.
"Aye, I saw da training todae; it seems yer gettin better at this!", he said as he nervously glanced back at Max and Judy before staring back at you again. You nodded appreciatively as you chuckled and spoke.
Yeah, Max and Judy have been behaving well, and the training with them is running smoothly. They remind me of my own dog back home, you say fondly as you watch him glance back at you with a surprised grin.
"Wut? You owned a German Shepherd? That’s perfect, then, actually", You watch as he shuffles around his pocket as he holds out a bag of snacks; it’s Milk-Bone dog biscuits! You smile widely as he hands you the snack.
"Well, I wanted to give it to ya as a wae to say thanks since yer took the job for me; you seem close to dogs anyhow; I hope I bought the right thing". Soap says as he laughs and pats your shoulder, "What’s the name?", He asks before you take out your phone and proudly show him photos of your own German Shepherd. It's big, and it has a golden sable pattern that shines ever so slightly under the sun.
Named it Meatball because he always managed to steal some from the kitchen. He is my little ball of sunshine, you explain with a soft giggle as you show him more pictures, swiping the gallery before stopping on one where you were carrying Meatball with a struggling look, face scrunched up with a frown with a grin, you chuckle as you look back at Soap,
He’s almost 5 years old now and still jumps and expects me to carry him around like a baby, even when he's 60 pounds!
Soap laughs along as he stares at the photo. You looked so happy and content, and he likes how cheerful and giddy you are when you start talking about your dog. He’s still scared of dogs, but he felt like with you, he might be able to overcome that fear a little as he listens to your stories.
I'm sorry for babbling so much, by the way. You stop halfway when you realise you’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes about your own dog, but Soap quickly shakes his head as he rests his hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring look as he speaks,
"No, no, go on. I love hearing yer talk about Meatball. He’s really cute!", Soap says as he gives you a nudge. "might even visit the fella with how sweet he sounds". Your eyes beamed when he suggested that,
Really? I mean, I don't want to force you to meet him if you’re still uncomfortable and all
Soap nods again as he gives a chuckle.
"Well, I think I'm still a bit nervous, but it's something I want to try again, ya know?", You nod in understanding before you think for a moment and give a reply as you glance back at the military dogs.
How about you start by warming up to Judy? Max is a bit bigger and more intimidating, but Judy is smaller, and he’s more obedient. Do you want to try it?
Soap sucks in a breath as he contemplates for a few minutes before finally sighing as he nods slowly. You smile as you rest your hand on his thigh to soothe his nerves.
It's okay; you’re with me. It will be alright. You say gently as you call for Judy to come around. Soap watches as Judy slowly makes its way towards you and Soap, his legs shuffling a bit as his muscles tense up when Judy comes and sits in front of you.
Be good. Soap is going to touch you, okay? You coo at Judy as the dog gives a nod and rests its head on your knee. You glance back at Soap as you hold his hand and speak.
You’re going to be okay; Judy won't bite, I promise. Soap nods with a gulp as he lets you take his hand and guide it to Judy’s head. You watch as he retracts his hand a bit when Judy tilts its head to stare at Soap.
"y-y/n…" Soap says nervously before you pause and rub his hand in small circles,
It's alright; take it slow and don't worry. You speak patiently as you watch Soap nod and take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. You don’t move and continue holding his hand in the air, and wait to let him take the initiative to move, and not long after that, he starts running his finger along the head of Judy’s fur cautiously. Judy remains still as it closes its eyes and wags its tail slightly. You give a small chuckle as you whisper back to Soap,
You’re alright; look, Judy likes you. You say as Soap relaxes more as he watches in awe, smiling slightly when he watches the dog press its furry chin onto your knees and melt into his touches. It’s certainly a much different response to what he imagined, and the memories of dogs biting into his legs and arms still haunt him sometimes. He can feel those sharp teeth sinking into his skin and drawing blood in those nightmares, but now? This dog he's touching is peacefully laying on your knee, not moving an inch as he strokes his fur softly with his palm, it's unnerving to him still, like he still expects the dog to bite him if he lets down his guard. But slowly, he gets more comfortable when he sees no signs of that happening, he also knows that if you're here with him, he'll be alright.
Soap glanced back at you as he held his gaze. "Thank you...", he said with a tone full of appreciation as you smiled back at him and nodded.
No worries, I'm happy you’re able to come this far, you say back with a soft tone as the both of you just continue like this, chatting idly back and forth as Soap slowly strokes Judy’s fur.
By the end of the conversation, Judy was resting its head on Soap’s tight, and Soap was no longer trembling as he rests his hand on its head.
Kyle Gaz Garrick
Ever since Gaz dropped off the bear in your room, you’ve been trying to reach out to him. But many times that has not happened because of the busy schedules, and it also doesn’t help that you’re not often teamed up with him.
However, when you do see him, you make sure to give him a nod and an appreciative stare as he returns the same. You’ll admit you were not as close to Gaz when compared to Ghost, but ever since the IKEA trip, both of you have been trying to change that, even if it’s just a bit. Sometimes he brews you a cup of tea in the morning; other times you’ll secretly take on his paperwork when you notice those tired eye bags in the morning.
But you wanted to return the favour with more than just these small gestures. You’ve thought about a lot of options; the first thing was perhaps to buy him a game of sorts. You heard from Soap before that Gaz is a gamer himself and owns a Switch. The problem is that you’re not aware of what kind of games he’s into, and asking those questions will raise suspicions. You have a rough idea that he might like action role-playing and multiplayer games like Elden Ring and World of Warcraft; sometimes you know Soap and Gaz will play Mario Kart because of how loud their laughter can be in their room. But you don’t like guessing and would rather get him something you’re absolutely sure he will like.
The other thing you wanted to get him was perhaps a hat or a scarf, seeing as he likes wearing those. But you learned that he is very attached to his scarf, so buying him a new one didn’t seem right to you. As for the hat, you actually found a blue beanie that might look good on him, but you decided to save it for his birthday.
After many sleepless nights of trying to figure out what on earth to give him, the opportunity finally presented itself one day. You just finished a mission with the team, and as the crew made their way back to base, you noticed how Gaz’s gloves were damaged; the thumb side was burned off, most likely due to the explosion previously. Gaz took notice of your gaze and gave you a smile.
"It's alright; the rest of it is still fine I can live with it."
You give a nod as he turns around and speaks to Soap again, back to their usual banter as Gaz elbows Soap for not warning him when the bomb goes off. You secretly thank Soap for his recklessness because now you know exactly what to get him.
You tip-toed around the base during the late hours, being quiet and stepping cautiously on the floorboard to avoid generating any noise. You rest your hand along the wall as you walk before finally reaching the door. You glance around once and finally bend down to put down the little green box with a cute yellow ribbon. You smile softly to yourself as you stand up, only to yelp slightly when Gaz taps on your shoulder from the back.
"Hey, erm, what are you sneaking around for?-", he stops as you quickly glance back as you nervously stand before the gift, shuffling it behind your feet as you shake your head. Gaz watches your demeanour before he smiles as he looks down, noticing a small gift box.
"I didn’t know it was my birthday today", he jokes with that charming smile of his, chuckling softly as he tilts his hand and leans closer.
"You don’t have to be so shy around me. Come on", He bends down to pick up the box as he opens the door. You were about to leave before he stops as he looks at you, motioning to enter his room.
You gulp as you nod and follow along, deciding to sit on his bed beside him. You have never entered any member’s room at this point, and you’re surprised at how cosy his room is. A few blankets here and there; he even has a few plushies himself! You get distracted by his place without realising he has already pulled off the ribbon and taken out the gift. You turn around and face him when he lets out a gasp.
"YOU DID NOT-"
Gaz said excitedly as he held a pair of Moto gloves, navy in colour with a dash of blue camouflage, lined with hard leather that protects the knuckles. You watch as his eyes shine and he smiles so big that you can see his prominent canine teeth protruding, silently satisfied with yourself when he thanks you for the gift.
I've been wanting to return the favour since you got me the bear.
You say softly as he nods and tests out the glove. It’s a perfect fit as he feels the texture and size.
"This is amazing! I love it. Thank you so much", He thanks you again as he gives your head a pat. Both of you decided to stay for a while and chat idly after that.
Simon Ghost Riley
You were awake the entire night, blinking and shuffling around your bed as you sighed deeply.
Another sleepless night
You thought to yourself as you pressed a pillow to your own face. You usually have trouble sleeping sometimes—more than you would like to admit. Whether it's because of the stress that lingers after missions or because of nightmares, They plague your nights without mercy.
You groan and sit up as you stare at the clock.
It's about 5 a.m. already, and I still can’t sleep.
You grumble to yourself as you stand and stretch, pissed that you can’t even enjoy a day off without getting a good night's sleep. You decided to run some laps around the field to tyre yourself out and nap afterwards.
And you did just that, running around the field for the past half an hour already, yet somehow you can feel that you’re more awake than usual. You know you’re physically tired, but your mental state refuses to calm down and screams at you. You sat on the ground hopelessly before lying on it, staring up at the sky as you let out a long, defeated sigh as you let out a few more grumble.
"Good morning, y/n" comes a voice as you glance to your left, recognising it as you divert your gaze from his shoe to his mask.
Good morning, Lieutenant Ghost, You reply back as you sit up and frown, slightly embarrassed that he saw you like this.
"Grabbing coffee for them, coming along?" He asks as he shakes the car key in his left hand, his other resting in the pocket of his black hoodie. You nod as you stand up by yourself and brush away the dust as both of you head to the jeep.
You’ve done this routine before with Ghost, sometimes doing it yourself. The group likes to take turns buying coffee and breakfast every weekend near the base; even the barista and workers have already recognised you guys at this point.
"Ah, it's you, 3 black coffees and 2 Earl Greys as per usual, yes?" Ghost nods to the shorter barista as she promptly prepares the drinks. You stood beside Ghost as you glanced around when you waited for the order before catching your sight on the fridge that displayed pastries and other small bites.
You take notice of the delicacy as you step closer to the glass. They rarely have cakes, at least whenever you come to visit anyway; mostly they display croissants or sandwiches, and you have to admit that the swiss roll they sell looks pretty good and tempting.
Matcha, strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate
You take a close look at all the options as you stare excitedly. Ghost watches as he stands closer and bumps your shoulder.
"Chocolate is good."
He whispers into your ears as you blush slightly at the sudden closeness and glance back at him. You nod as you stare back at that specific swiss roll. It even has what you assume is chocolate whipped cream with a small cherry on top. You whisper back softly as you grab his sleeve timidly.
Can I try the cake with you?
You know you can finish this cake yourself, but you wanted to share it with him since he suggested it in the first place.
Ghost blinks before nodding as he pats your hand, ordering the chocolate swiss roll as you smile and happily take a seat in the corner of the cafe. You watch as he brings the plate and sets it on the table. He hands you a fork as he watches you poke through the cake and take a bite.
Your eyes beam as your face lights up when you have a taste; the soft, spongy chocolate cake is perfect, and paired with the chocolate whipped cream? It tasted like heaven. Ghost chuckles as he watches you take another bite.
You nod as you glance back at him with a giddy smile. You were right. You say as you take a much bigger part of the cake and hand the fork to him, and he nods as he pulls his balaclava to eat the cake, making sure he watches you from the corner of his eyes as he eats it. He likes seeing you take in the sight of him shamelessly, even if it's just his jaw and lips. He liked how you always stare and trail along the faint scar he has around the chin; it's as if you’re mapping him out and memorising his features. He gives a hum of approval as he finishes the bite and hands you back the fork, urging you to take more as you shake your head.
"It's okay, kid, I’ve tried this cake before already. Eat."
He says this as you frown slightly and nod along, then enjoy the cake again as your brows slowly relax. He smiles as he continues to watch you eat; he knows that you’re always eager and tend to be more compassionate than the other members, even if you don't show it. Gestures like how you always save a seat for him in the planes beside Soap, or how you silently wipe and clean Soap’s guns after missions, or how you always helped Gaz with reports, and you always brew a cup of coffee for Captain when he needs it, your actions doesn't go unnoticed by him.
Do you have a sweet tooth?
The question caught him off guard as he watch your eye. He took a few moments to ground himself before nodding. He watched the glint of amusement in your eyes as you smiled and leaned in to ask another question.
Then what’s your favourite dessert?
He smiles at your question as he leans in and rests his arm on the table as he stares back at you.
"Chocolate, if that wasn’t obvious enough already."
You chuckle as you shake your head and slightly poke his muscular arm.
Yeah, I have an idea, obviously, but you know, like, what kind? Like chocolate bars? Cocoa drinks? Chocolate brownies? You know what I mean, you list out the example as you bite on the fork.
He chuckles as he goes on and answers back, then you shoot another question and the process repeats. They may be small and mundane questions, but moments like this make him feel human again, to remind him that he is not just a war machine in this world, that he too has cravings and such, plus it also feels like you get to know him better, and perhaps this friendship can flourish more.
a/n: am I biased towards Gaz? yes, yes I am(and yeah the gloves are from CSGO lol), like and reposts are appreciated! Have a good day/night! <3
Y/n: if I punch myself and it hurts, am I too weak or too strong?
Soap: you’re weak
Gaz: you’re strong
Ghost: you’re stupid
HR thought it would be a good idea to handcuff you and Ghost together as a team-building exercise. It wasn’t. Or was it?
Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader
Word Count: 1,345 (approx. 5-6 min reading time)
Fluff and the typical shenanigans
Warnings: language, suggestive content
For @ddiamondsdancing, who inspired me through her story
More of these.
He secures one end of the handcuffs to your wrist and adjusts them.
“Is it okay?” He asks.
“It’s beautiful, Lieutenant, you shouldn’t have,” you reply and flick your wrist.
He makes a clicking sound with his tongue and rolls his eyes.
“I mean, does it hurt?”
He’s one of the most feared men on the base, yet he worries about hurting you. That’s… new.
You twist the handcuff, and he advises against fidgeting too much, asking you to let him know if it hurts so he can readjust it.
“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you finally say.
“Good,” he responds and clicks the other end of the handcuff to his wrist, “shall we get going?”
Things have started changing around the base since HR got their hands on your superiors. They switched their focus away from resorting to punishment and toward more effective ways of communication.
That was all good and fun until Captain Price and the other higher-ups decided that this training shouldn’t be limited to them alone. They believed that everyone at the base could benefit from the same approach.
And here comes today, where you find yourself assigned to Ghost as a buddy with a pair of handcuffs—key not included—and instructed to spend the entire day helping each other. Or torment. Whichever comes first. Or more naturally.
He starts walking, but his strides are so broad that you get dragged along.
“Can you—” you struggle to find the words while keeping up, “can you chill for a second?”
He stops in his tracks, which causes you to bump into his back. You look at him, annoyed, and he stares down at you.
“You need to slow your pace, Lieutenant.”
“You need to pick up yours.”
“I can’t lengthen my strides,” you explain, “but you can shorten yours.”
He looks down at his boots briefly and lets out a sharp chuckle. You wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns his feet outward like a ballerina and starts taking little steps forward.
“Are you mocking me, Lieutenant?” you ask.
“Do you walk like that?” he asks back.
“Then no, I’m not mocking you,” he replies, although you can hear the amusement in his voice. He stops and turns to face you.
“Go on,” he says, gesturing with his head for you to move to the front, “you take the lead, and I’ll adjust my walk.”
The rest of the day wasn’t easy, but it was manageable.
You went to the training room, where you had to do the same exercises simultaneously and adjust to each other’s pace to get work done, except in some cases where the Lieutenant wanted to put in more reps. So you sat on the ground, cross-legged, with your hand attached to his, and waited until he finished his push-ups.
“Ready to hit the showers with me, Lieutenant?” You tease and anticipate his reaction.
He stands up and helps you off the ground.
“From bonding to bondage...” He says, and you immediately get flustered. You weren’t expecting this kind of reaction, that’s for sure.
“Tempting offer, soldier,” he says in a flirtatious tone, “but first, you have to tell me...”
He pauses and seizes you, looking at you from head to toe. Your heart beats so fast in your chest that you can feel your pulse in your throat and head.
“...how are you going to remove your shirt?” He asks and shakes your handcuffed hands.
Good question. But you won’t let logic, or Ghost, take hold of you now.
“When there is a will, there is a way, sir,” you reply. “I can cut through it.”
“And what about putting another shirt on afterwards?” he adds, raising an eyebrow. “Will you be sewing one back on?”
You sigh and roll your eyes. “Always with the logistics, aren’t you?”
“Someone has to think ahead,” he explains, pulling you gently to keep moving, “just in case we have to explain to HR why we’re both handcuffed and naked.”
You organised the warehouse for your next task, and the handcuffs forced you to communicate and collaborate more closely than ever before. Navigating through the cluttered aisles and shelves became a shared challenge. You relied on each other’s strengths to find the best way forward. Every movement had to be coordinated, and every decision was made together.
Even when you wanted to take a break and have a snack, he helped you by holding up your water bottle while you munched on your sandwich. It was as if the handcuffs became a synonym for unity and teamwork rather than restraint and suppression. You had to trust each other’s judgement and, by combining your resourcefulness, turn every obstacle into an opportunity.
Up until you had to pee.
“Can’t you hold it in?”
“Until the end of the day?” You ask, squeezing your legs together, “No way, Lt., sorry. I—we have to go now.”
“No wonder why,” he snaps and pulls you with him, “you drank the entire water bottle.”
“It was you who fed me the entire water bottle,” you snap back and follow him to the toilets. “You were squeezing too much water in my mouth—that’s why it went empty.”
You approach the bathroom stall and squeeze into one of the cubicles. Ghost looks away to allow you some privacy.
“Sir?” You ask, and he turns halfway.
“I need your hand; I mean my hand to unzip my pants.”
He lets out a long exhale and relaxes his arm, so you can use it as you wish. With his hand very close to your zip, you pull down your pants and squat.
But nothing’s coming out. You need some privacy, and unfortunately, under these circumstances, you had none. How didn’t HR think of that? The HR, of all the departments!
“You done?” He asks with his head facing the door.
“I haven’t started yet,” you explain. “I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable.”
“A couple of hours ago, you wanted to shower together, but now you’re uncomfortable peeing in my presence?”
“That’s different, Ghost; I think you know that.”
And, as if things weren’t awkward enough, someone knocks on your bathroom door. Ghost lifts his heels and peeks from the top of the door. He instinctively turns halfway to talk to you, but you kick him to look in front.
“It’s Janet from HR,” he jokingly tells you. “Want to say hi?”
“What the hell, Ghost?” You whisper, “Shut up.”
He chuckles and then turns to face her.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he apologises, “you’re going to have to find another loo; we’re trying to pee in this one.”
You glance at Ghost’s back, and your face flushes with embarrassment.
“We’re... experiencing a tiny issue, Janet,” you explain, “the handcuffs, you see...”
Before you can finish your explanation, Ghost interrupts you.
“It’s a team-building exercise, Janet!” He says in a threatening tone while peeking at Janet, who’s hurrying out of the bathroom, “We’re exploring new levels of trust and communication; ISN’T THAT WHAT YOU FUCKERS WANTED US TO DO?”
“GHOST!” You shout.
“What?” he asks, acting innocent. “They should have considered the consequences before implementing stupid shit.”
“Speaking of shit...”
“Don’t tell me you have to do that as well,” he says, throwing his head back. “We’re going to stay here forever.”
“No,” you reply, “I’m done—your feud with Janet helped me.”
With Ghost’s help, you zip up your pants, wash your hands—all four of them—and head to Price’s office, where you’re about to report how the team-building exercise went. In return, you will receive the key to your handcuffs.
You stand at the captain’s door with several other soldiers, handcuffed in pairs.
“I’ll miss you, Lt.,” you whisper, “my other half.”
He chuckles and shakes his head.
“No, really,” you continue, “who will I have now to unzip my pants when I want to pee and squeeze the fucking ocean in my mouth when I want water.”
“Don’t worry,” he replies, “I’m sure you’ll find another poor soul to torture.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“No,” he says, taking your hand discreetly and interlocking your fingers in his, “not one bit.”
Flames | Firefighter!141 x Reader
A/N: This is based off the fact that I was watching the firemen today while waiting for my bus (which was late and annoyed me). You can read this as anyone as I didn’t say who they were so this is any of the 141 x Reader.
They’ve been at this for hours and you watched every second of it.
You didn’t know why it was so satisfying watching them climb up and down the ladders over and over again. Their thick, fit bodies were covered by the heavy material of their jackets, boots and helmets. You couldn’t wait until they were finished.
One of them saw you sitting there under the tree of your back garden and gave you a wave. You waved back and you could hear the shouting of someone to get back to training.
You bet they were soaking wet under all of those clothes. You imagined them peeling their tight shirts off over their heads revealing their glistening skin underneath. They could be toned or have a dad bod - both were great either way.
You continued to doodle in your notebook of the sexy firemen who were simply doing basic training. The fake houses aligned at the back of the yard were smoking and you were picturing yourself being the damsel in distress and being dragged from the flames by the strong hands of the sexy firemen. They could even hold you close to them as they said that everything would be okay.
You looked up and saw one of the men were standing on a ladder on the other side of your fence. You stood from your spot and smoothed out the sundress you were wearing and walked over to the only thing that was keeping you apart.
“You want a closer look?”
“A closer look of the training, saw you watching from afar so figured it would be better up close”
You stood there for a moment in thought and nodded your head “Okay, yeah I would love to” you beamed up at him and he soon passed you a ladder over and helped you over the fence, grabbing onto your hips as you came down and placing you onto the safe ground.
“Now you have the best seat in the house, little lady”
You finally get through Ghost, obtaining your first kiss with Simon— your Simon. Even if it's only for a minute.
Her kiss felt so good, and it took Simon a moment to recover. Her flushed cheeks after the kiss seemed to make her even more beautiful than before. Her smile was so charming and sweet. Her face was so close to his, her kind and gentle presence reminded him so much of a sunny day.
"You're a good kisser, Angel."
For a whole minute, she forgets about all her worries and problems. Forgets about her job and his; the risk of it all. For a whole minute, she just stands there as her thumb continues to rub against his cheek gently and she holds back the strong urge to drop the 'I love you' bomb, because as sweet as this feels, all of it just seems so.. playful.
It's too early, she reasons with herself, so she plays along like a string of her violin.
"You're not so bad yourself, Lieutenant."
He feels his heart beats faster as he thinks of the word 'love'. She didn't actually say it, but it's there in the air, ready to be claimed.
"I can't wait to kiss you again."
For another minute, Angel is speechless. She knows she's given it away to him— her thoughts. And as she processes them, she struggles to hear his words. She settles on trying to decipher his thoughts through his eyes.
His eyes were probably her favorite thing about him, she believes. It's the first real part of Simon she's seen.
"I can't wait to see you again, Si." She finally responds, smiling sweetly as she continues to embed each detail of his face and his skin into her mind.
She gives him one last kiss, because she knows that when she steps into this god forsaken clinic again, he won't be Simon anymore. He won't be her 'Si'. He'll go back to being Lieutenant Ghost, with that skull balaclava of his.
This work is available on AO3 as well. :)
© 2023 mikotoguilty - I do not give permission to copy, repost, and/or translate any of my works on other platforms.
COFFEE — simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader
WARNINGS — fluff! slice of life type of piece. reader enjoys coffee, simon? not so much. slightly grumpy!simon.
NOTES — i HAD to write this. based on a v recent convo between reign and i. everyone say ‘thank you, reign!!’ requests are open!
you trudged into the kitchen, feet dragging on the floor as you made your way to what you considered the higher being - your coffee machine.
your eyes still felt heavy, leftover sleep pleading to drag you back down into your warm bed, under your warm blankets and next to your extremely warm boyfriend.
with a shake of your head, you began your little coffee making routine, grabbing a bag of your favorite blend and a small coffee filter. you made way to the fridge, grabbing the creamer.
you shook the bottle around as you walked back to the counter. the liquid that was left making a sloshing sound against the hollow plastic - it was almost empty. you’d have to put coffee creamer on the growing grocery list.
you sat in a comfortable silence as you waited for your coffee to brew, trying to rub away at the sleep in your eyes. you nearly leapt with joy as you smelt the coffee in the air. however, your joy was almost diminished as you heard the familiar sleepy rasp from your giant of a boyfriend.
“bloody hell. this again, lovey?”
“yes, si. this again. it’s like this every morning, you know i need my caffeine before work.” you stared at him, fighting the urge to laugh at his wrinkled nose, clearly bothered by the smell.
simon shook his head, moving to press his front to your back, grabbing his box of tea bags from the cabinet above the counter where your beloved machine resided.
“can’t stand the smell of that godforsaken slop you call a drink.”
��really? i couldn’t tell.”
it was normal for your mornings to start like this, excluding saturdays and sundays - those days being reserved for sleeping in and squeezing in as much cuddling as you could. your bickering came naturally to the both of you, even before you two had started dating.
simon rolled his eyes, grabbing the kettle from the drying rack, filling it up with water as he glared daggers at your coffee pot. “one of these days, i’m going to dump out anything related to coffee and force you to consume the superior choice of drink.”
it was your turn to roll your eyes. your conversation was interrupted as your coffee machine started to beep - indicating your coffee was ready to pour. you nudged his hip with yours, pulling his attention away from the kettle he was filling.
“keep that talk up and i’ll do a reenactment of the boston tea party, love.”
“boston tea par- oh piss off.”
cw: my simon riley favoritism is popping off again, werewolf au, heavy themes of breeding, 🪢, you know what it is, you know what you're here for.
forgets heats are a thing until he's going through it. he was able to shrug most of them off, the military having trained him well enough to work through them. unfortunately its much harder now that he's mated to you
wants to be around you more than anything else.
notices himself getting irritated at much smaller things. he's getting downright dirty in training, slamming his sparring partners into the ground. No one wants to train with him when he's like this
doesn't get very hungry during his ruts but is very adamant about feeding you. hunter gatherer brained. provide for my partner brained
"gotta be well fed to hold all my pups, yeah?"
pretty lethargic overall. breed, eat, sleep, breed, eat sleep. doesn't stray far from these steps since he puts all of his energy into making sure you're well and bred.
bite and scent marking. he knows you can't be with him 24/7 despite his want for you to be. but he can make sure no one is sniffing too close to you. very obvious bite scar your shoulder.
as soon as you get home he's nipping at your heels to get you to the bedroom, or at least bent over the couch.
won't even complain if you have to put the muzzle on him for getting to bitey. as long as you're giving your body up to him, ⁰he'll do whatever you want
pulls you against his hips at all hours of the day. if you let him, he'll fuck your thighs and push his cum in with his fingers. doesnt use his fingers usually because of the claws, may gather it up on the tip and push it deep into your hole. doesn't have to knot you to breed you ♡
if you muzzle him, it only stops him from biting. he's licking your skin through the metal grate, drooling over your back
unfortunately his claws cannot be contained unless he's tied at the wrists. he also allows this, but much more begrudgingly
selfishly he loves having his claws pressed into your plush hips. threatening to sink into your jugular when he holds you by the neck, grazing over your bite mark
aint too proud to beg
"c'mon sweetheart.. you can go one more can't you?"
if you keep him without the muzzle, he's even more of a fiend
cold nose pressing against your sensitive skin, rough tongue digging into every inch of your drooling holes. hearts in his eyes when he looks up at you from his place between your legs. has a terrible habit of nipping all of your overstimulated skin.
tail wags when your hands drift to hold his massive werewolf head in place. scratch behind his ears, and he rumbles moans into your skin.
lots of foreplay because oh no his knot is huge. a lot like Captain Price in the way he was bred to breed. knows he's gigantic in comparison to your human body so he really does try to be easy on you
it's so cliche, but he can't give up doggy style. crouched behind you, pushing his knot in. inch by inch, thrust by thrust. splits you open, growling from deep in his chest. he knows you feel it w his chest pressed flush against your back
bunny-extract got me thinkin about headlocks too, lord- his big, panting muzzle right next to your head, spinning with pleasure. his giant bicep is constricting the blood to your head until youre getting tunnel vision looking up at him. encourages you to hold tight to his arm
"you can take it all, come on. thats it."
doesn't stop the steady push and pull of his hips even if your walls are firmly clamped around his knot. shallow thrusts that are more of a needy grind.
you always say it's too much, reaching behind you to paw at his abdomen, pleading with him to slow down on stuffing you so full. but you always relax your body enough for him to fit his knot, albeit a tight fit. holds your arms behind your back if you're really squirming
loses control of himself easy, especially with your small hands clutching his arms, his shoulders. running on instinct alone
get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant
"everyone is gonna know you're mine when you're carrying my pups."
"you like that?"
whimpery and whiny when he's leaking his spend into you. toothy nibbles against your bite mark. scent marks you when he's buried to the hilt in your walls. nuzzling his muzzle and neck all over you, drowning your scent in his own.
wants to sleep. sleep sleep. doesn't let you leave the bed. you're not going anywhere when he's knotted with you. he is literally ready to fall asleep, cock plugging your twitching hole
licks and nurses any scratches, scrapes and abrasions. he apologizes and he means it, but he secretly loved how you wear his bites like a badge of honor.
I feel like I write a lot of angsty things for the roommate series so here’s something fluffy:
Simon loves to read.
I’m not talking just reading as like a downtime thing, he gets into books and consume anything that pertains to it. He’ll buy an entire series, he’ll a book front to back in a matter of a day or two, and will analyze it so much that he even has a note book full of notes on it (he doesn’t like to write or put tabs in the book)
And it’s not just with books. He wouldn’t admit it but he almost loves comics more than he likes books because of the medium and how easy it is to consume
He’s stayed up late just reading, especially when he can’t sleep and if the book is really good his nose is stuck in it.
Sometimes he uses reading as an escape, but truly he’s fascinated by the stories told and the worlds created (he’s a fan of fantasy and fiction, will sometimes pick up a non-fiction book)
You like catching him when he’s reading because unbeknownst to him, he has a very expressive face when he’s reading. You can almost see when a plot twist happens, or when there’s a part he doesn’t like just by the expression on his face. You’ve noticed that he rubs his fingers over his lips when he reads and now because you’ve seen his dog tags, he tends to put one of the disks in his mouth when he reads.
It’s adorable, you think, how engrossed he gets into the stories. You like watching his little expressions and habits when he reads.
But the best part is when you ask him to talk about the book or comic he’s reading.
It took a little bit for him to get past his shyness about sharing his thoughts with you. At first he said short little things about it, but the more you told him you wanted to know what he really thinks, he started to open up more.
Now when you ask him, he’s pulling out his notes and practically giving you a full presentation. He gets excited and riled up talking to you about the current book he’s on and his feelings towards it is.
His eyes light up he smiles a little bit more and he doesn’t see so tense, and though he’s not particularly animated, you can tell that he’s invested.
Simon loves telling you everything you want to know, he loves that you’re interested and that you’re the one who asks. It makes him feel warm, it makes him excited and it takes everything in him to not kiss you for every encouraging word you say to him.
Doesn’t matter what both of you are doing; whether it’s cuddling, about to go to sleep, or just sitting in the couch, he’s always so ready to tell you everything he thinks about the book/comic
(Added bonus if you’re an aspiring writer, he’s your number one supporter and will pester you to let him read your work, will help if you ask but mostly just wants to read it even if it’s “bad”.)
Love your works! May I please get a "don't worry, i'm not going anywhere." with Ghost? Take your time, I love what you write!
400 Follower Celebration
—“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”— With Ghost
Summary: You’re apart of the 141 and Ghost recently had a near-death experience. You’ve been plagued with nightmares about the situation, but you try to hide it from him, feeling selfish about your night terrors. One night, you’re thoroughly convinced Ghost had actually died.
A/N: THANK YOUUU I KEEP BLUSHING ILY AND TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS
[WARNINGS: vomit, detailed nightmares, panic attack, gore, fake-death, angst, hurt/comfort.]
It was always the same nightmare. It was a repeat of that one mission months ago—nearly a year ago by now, where you and your team went to grab some important intel about a new uprising cartel that was showing some dangerous potential. It was a large compound, four floors including the basement, wide rooms with many blind-spots. Using your rifle equipped with a heat signature sensor, you swept room to room, leading your team through the building, putting anyone down who dared fired a bullet at you or your team.
You turn that familiar corner and your heart sinks. You’ve tried many times to change the course of this dream, but no matter how frantically you try to scream about what is waiting on the other side of that door, your mouth refuses to work until Ghost rumbles out, “I’ll take point.” You try to fight every muscle in your body to stop this, but it’s like the dream freezes until you continue down the.. “right path”. Quite literally is a living fucking hell for you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop it except do what it wants you to do.
“Roger.” You mutter, backing up behind Ghost instead of staying in front of him and leading him the others. The others are always blank faced soldiers in this nightmare, but you know who is who. You pat his shoulder, aimming over him as you walk down the hall close together, hugging the wall. You’ve been through this so many times, you know to eye the floor and you watch the moment happen—Ghost steps on a pressure plate and—BOOM.
You’re always forced to watch it in slow motion; the wall being blown open right next to Ghost, watching the debris scatter everywhere, scraping yourself up as well as Ghost. He raises his arm to shield his face from whatever is happening, unable to process in time that a man wielding a sharp combat knife is pulling his arm back and comes down with it.
You watch the way the knife so easily slides into his rib cage, and it’s almost like you could hear it penetrating his lung like it did—but this time, the man rips the knife out and does it again and again and again—this has never happened before—Ghost’s falling to the ground, his blood splattering everywhere, fuck, it’s like the guy is trying to gut him—but you can’t move. You have to sit there and watch this man. plunge a knife in and out of Ghost’s chest until he finally decides to stab him deep and yank downwards, spilling his intestines and stomach—yet, his lifeless eyes keep eye contact the entire time.
Your eyes fly open, dizzy from your heart pounding and unable to focus, you throw the blanket off of you and you make your way out of whatever room you’re in—you’re too freaked out to know. Your chest aches and feels like there’s a hundred tons sitting on your rib cage, restricting your breathing. You keep walking until you bump into something and you manage to focus enough to notice it’s the bathroom door. Your hand shakily grabs the doorknob and opens it, and you already feel the vomit traveling up your throat.
You end up bent over the open toilet, body heaving with every exile of the contents of your stomach, which by this time of night is mostly just bile. Your head is spinning and your hands keep shaking and by this point, you really don’t care how clean this bathroom is. You lean your elbows on the toilet rim and hold your head in your hands, trying your best to stifle a sob, even though all you can smell and feel is his blood on your fingertips. Your tears drip down your cheeks and collect at your chin before dripping off.
You keep one arm on the toilet seat to keep your head propped up and the other goes around your stomach, which is twisting painfully inside of your gut, ripping another sob from you. You gag into the toilet, but you’ve already thrown everything you had inside. Your throat and nose burns from the stomach acid, but it doesn’t compare to the emotional pain of losing Ghost. You just stood there and watched him get gutted—why do you deserve to grieve when you could have prevented it in the first place? Someone killed the Ghost, and you let it fucking happen.
A large hand sprawls across the flat of your back which is accompanied by a low, gritty voice. Whoever it is says something, but you don’t quite hear them. It’s probably Price, trying to comfort you, trying to say there’s one thing you could’ve done to stop it, but you know there was something you could do, anything you could’ve done.
Price calls your name and you go to shove him away, but his hands wrap around your wrists, and the voice is more insistent. You choke on a sob and shake your head, struggling against him until you hear it—his voice. “Fuck, [Name], can you hear me?” Ghost’s voice. It’s his voice.
No. Your mind is playing tricks on you and you won’t fall for it, you won’t let yourself go through this horrendous grief for a second time. You try to curl up into a ball, wanting to grab at your hair or your clothes, just anything but be here. “Look at me.” His hands grab your face and force your face to look at him and..
It’s him. It’s Ghost.
All of your noises stop for a moment as you stare with wide eyes that are full of unfallen tears, eyes full of grief, all for him. Ghost stares back at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes, and you can see the way his hands are slightly trembling—he’s worried about you. Ghost’s eyebrows furrow when he sees your expression of anguish. “Hey—hey, what happened?” Ghost’s voice is so quiet, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks any louder. Your hands come up to his mask and touch it and you burst into a harsh sob again, throwing your arms around him.
Usually, Ghost would hesitate. He would be reluctant to reciprocate such personal touch, such desperation, but he pulls you close into his arms without a second thought. Your hands grab his shirt and you breakdown into his chest, wetting the fabric with your tears. His heart slipped a beat because he’s never seen you like this—has never seen you break down this horribly.
He’d be here when you were ready to talk about it, but for now he’ll stay to hold you until your shoulders stop shaking. Ghost moves to sit on his bottom and you whimper in fear, like he’ll leave. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒏 '𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕' 𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒔𝒇𝒘 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔
➸ PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader; 18+ only
➸ BANNER CREDIT: cafekitsune
➸ OTHER GHOST NSFW HEADCANONS: here & here
➸ BLINDFOLDING: obligatory, a deal-breaker especially early on in the relationship; lots of things he has planned for you that involves his mouth, and while he could pull up his mask as far as he needs to, just have the hem of it resting on the bridge of his nose, sometimes he prefers to do away with it all so as not to become an obstacle that's impeding on his fun – hence, a blindfold (maybe a spare military scarf that he's got lying around or any other scrap of fabric that'll suffice) to block out the visual of his face – the temporary deprivation of sight has your other senses heightened, with tactile being the most obvious as you become extremely responsive to his touch when you’re not sure what to anticipate next (❝ Should tie you up too, tease you 'til you can’t stand it anymore. How’s that sound, sweetheart? ❞)
➸ RECEIVING HEAD: likes it almost as much as giving; will never turn it down when the opportunity presents itself
(1) deepthroating - you need the practice since you couldn't get it all the first time he fed you his cock, couldn't quite accommodate the girth of him no matter how hard you tried that night; so, you've been working up to it, finally able to get your mouth full, throat fucked, just your wet heat encasing him and he can't help but apply light pressure, palming the back of your head to push you down on his dick and letting out a guttural groan whenever you occasionally gag while taking him down to the base (❝ Breathe through your nose, love. Choking on my cock like this... fuckin' hell. Don't go hurtin' yourself now.❞)
(2) when he's sitting with his legs spread wide, you kneeling in between them and looking up at him through your lashes - doesn't rush you, tells you to slow down in fact, so he can enjoy the sight of your lips wrapped around his dick for longer, how you're so enthusiastic about making him feel good - about cock-worshipping - practically drunk alone on the pleasure of sucking him off as if this might be more for your benefit than it is for his; you start working him with your mouth - gently licking at the seam of the sensitive head and lapping up the prespend there because you're a good girl for cleaning up the clear and sticky mess gathering around his slit before pressing a kiss to the blunt tip, or when your tongue runs wet along the length of him before trying to swallow him down your throat (❝ So good to me... love this almost more than that pretty pussy of yours. C'mere, sweetheart. Gonna return the favor and spoil that li’l cunt with my mouth. ❞)
➸ PARTIALLY-CLOTHED SEX: can be impatient when he’s in a rush, certainly has little to no tolerance for undressing you or himself for a shag somewhere inconvenient (it’s called a quickie for a reason but he’s only interested when there’s a high probability that you’re already wet before he’s even laid a finger on you, e.g. eye-fucking him across the room for the last hour while lightly chewing on the tip of your pen and dragging it across your bottom lip before pausing at the corner of your mouth, or verbal foreplay throughout the day where you’ve been dropping dirty comments about how you much you’ve been thinking about him just slowly rubbing at the entrance of your cunt, having him fill you up with his fingers or his cock); honestly doesn’t want to waste time sliding into you after all of that – the most he’ll otherwise do is ruck your shirt over your chest to paw at your tits, knead at the flesh and pinch/roll your nipples between his fingers while pounding into you from behind (❝ Move these panties to the side before I rip ‘em off you. Really don’t think you should’ve been bloody wearin’ any in the first place. ❞)
➸ SQUIRTING: riding him, leaning back slightly with one of your hands grasping at his muscular thigh to stay upright – and the view drives him crazy, how you’re bouncing, fucking yourself down on him over and over, along with these desperate little rolls of your hips; you’re doing so good for him that he makes the executive decision to assume control now, thrusts up into your aching hole, bruising – almost punishing, but he can’t stop when he’s got you moaning even louder now and gasps spill from your mouth when you take him to the root – cockhead brushing against the front of your cunt at this angle every time he drives inside you (❝ Right there, huh? That the spot? Fuckin' know from how goddamn wet you're gettin' me— ❞) and he keeps going until
you start coming hard then, soaking his cock so bad that the fresh rush of slick pools across his thighs, leaks down his balls (❝ Christ, got you gushin’ all over me. Let's see it again, c’mon. ❞)
➸ DEGRADATION KINK: light on the insults, doesn’t necessarily mean it in a literal sense but knows that they have their time and place during sex; he equates them to something affectionate – prefers to use the ones that possess a more positive connotation in lieu of/alongside praise based on the situation and really enjoys how your cunt involuntarily clenches upon hearing that sort of stuff
❝ Yeah, can feel this cunt pulsin’ around my cock. Such a cute li’l fucktoy – jus’ can’t help it, can you? Need you to stay still for me, though. ❞ (e.g. cock warming)
❝ Taking me so well… being so good, aren't you? Careful love, don’t want ‘em hearing how loud you are; they might get the wrong idea about you, moanin’ like a whore and all that. ❞
❝ Where’s my dirty girl want me to finish? Inside, is that it? Fuckin’ Christ you’re a naughty one, sweetheart, lettin’ me fill up this cunt. Greedy for it, like a bitch in heat— ❞
❝ I know you’re more than a cumslut, love. But you beg me to fuck you stupid, damn near let me abuse every single one of these holes of yours, and—c'mon, you see why I might have a hard time believin’ myself, right?”
➸ HAIR-PULLING: if he finds out you're into it, then he’s very much in favor of grabbing a handful of your hair, fingers spanning over your scalp and slightly tugging so that he tips your chin up – not enough to hurt; usually only does it when he’s trying to get you to look at something (bent over the sink, and you need to look at your reflection, don’t want to miss that, of course) or he just wants something to grab onto (when you’re on your knees while he’s face-fucking you, gotta make sure you maintain eye contact); accidentally discovers you share this kink when his intention is to give you a low warning for teasing him, bringing your ear close so you can hear him properly without him having to raise his voice but you just end up letting out a soft moan in response
(1) if your hair's long enough - he likes wrapping a ponytail around his hand, and will appreciate a nice plait, but he's not choosy