Simon Ghost X Reader - Blog Posts

IDEA

What about a ftm Ghost, ftm Soap, and ftm reader? Ghost being the top because of course, Soap being the switch, and reader being the bottom? I either saw this somewhere and if I did I can’t remember, or I had a very nice dream. Can someone please right this? Because I can’t get it out my head and I do not have the capabilities to write something like this and make it even remotely good.

I read all 3 parts and it’s delicious (^‿^✿)

I love your writing, it's so fucking good. you write abt plusize ppl so well I'm jealous- ANYWAYS

can you please write chubby puppygirl who's desperate for simons approval? she already knows price likes her. she's got the man tamed as if he was the pup. but simon??? he's so nonchalant about her that she can't help but go insane trying to get praise from him. whining and yappin at his feet, giving him big puppy eyes, doing whatever he tells her to???

(if you wanna get real nasty, you could write him taking advantage of her. pushing past her limits/making her do embarrassing things)

also congrats again on 500!!! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

WAAAA THANK YOU!!!! my biggest inspo for plus size puppygirl reader fr ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ohhhh this is soooo delicioussss bc its so true 0-0

priceghost/plus size puppygirl reader, emphasis on ghost/reader. mdni, simon is a meanie, a little angsty but i'm a cheesy sucker for happy endings and cuddles. there's sex in there, i swear, you just have to be patient WEHGFVWKFHB wordcount: 2.8k 💀

price dotes on you like you're royalty, pouring all his money, time, and affection into you. he loves to pull you onto his lap and let you shower him with kisses. he'll have you rest your head on his thigh while he works so he can pet your hair. he buys you a pretty collar with your name on the front and his name and number on the back, as if you'd ever wander far away enough to get lost—but one name is noticeably absent.

simon is completely nonplussed by you. your pretty whines are met with scoffs, your head nuzzling against his knee earns you a pinch on your poor, sensitive puppy ears. the only time simon really pays you any attention is when price brings the two of you together, too tired to do anything but stroke his own cock and watch ghost ram into you, calling out harsh commands when his boy gets a little too rough with you. even then, when he's bullying you with his cock, tugging your tail to make you whine in pain or smacking any inch of skin he can see to watch it ripple and bounce, you're on you absolute best behavior for him.

you crave his praise more than all the pets and treats in the world, likely because it's been withheld from you for so long. puppies have a constant desire for things they can't have like, and the same is true for puppy hybrids. while real dogs beg for chocolate when it's being eaten, all you can think about around ghost is earning his approval.

ghost, of course, barely notices at first. once he's brought you to price, he considers his mission complete--all he planned to do was bring his captain a special present, and maybe fuck it from time to time. it wasn't until he observed your behavior with the other members of the 141 that he recognized your behavior. you were friendly and playful with gaz and soap, but you never fought for their attention., and with price you never had to fight for anything. no, it was only with him that you begged and pleaded for attention. only then did he become interested.

he starts small with little grunts of approval when you followed an instruction particularly well. he sees how your eyes shone when he didn't push you away as you nuzzled up to his calf, amused that just the barest touch was enough to make you dizzy. what a fun little game it could be, he thought, to see how far you would go to gain his love.

the game began when price flew out for a week for a training seminar, giving lectures to recruits and overseeing their exercises. obviously he couldn't bring you, he'd cooed as he'd wiped the tears from your round face. he would need to focus all his time on the recruits, and he simply couldn't do that with his soft, precious girl around; but don't worry, simon would take good care of you. this is where simon finds his opportunity, with no captain holding his proverbial leash. he insists you stay in his quarters for the time being--there's no use letting you lay in price's bed for the whole week, snuffling at his pillows and crying until he returns. what kind of owner would simon be if he let you do that?

instead, you stay in ghost's quarters, and this is where his fun begins. needy puppies don't sleep on human beds, he condescends on the first night. your look of confusion is met with amusement as ghost produces a big, fluffy dog bed for you to sleep on. you don't want to be ungrateful, do you? and of course you don't! so you curl up in the dog bed, the roundness of your belly and thighs making it difficult to properly tuck you body in to fit, but the words good girl that follow make you beam with delight. you're a little squirmy the next morning when he makes you eat your breakfast on the floor, but all discomfort disappears when ghost strokes your ears while he eats.

when price puts you on your knees, he puts a fluffy pillow under you to stop the pain. simon purposfully chooses a hard surface and spreads his legs wide, slapping his thighs to invite you to worm between them and mouth at his cock. he gets mean about it, forcing it too far too fast and making you gag and tear up, but you keep going like a champ the whole time, desperate to hear his praises.

its only that evening when ghost begins to feel guilty. the way you stumbled and crawled after he forced you to stay on the ground all day made the pain you were in very obvious. his cold heart cracks just a little when he hears you muffle sobs of pain and loneliness into your pillow on the dog bed. it’s worse the next morning when you're sluggish and achey, eyes puffy from tears and lack of sleep. still, you settled on the ground like a good girl, anticipating his command and biting back the little sounds of distress caused by your throbbing muscles. fuck, he did't want to do this anymore.

"up," he commands shortly. you tilt your head, confused, and ghost grunts. "i said up."

you stand slowly, half from your protesting joints and half out of concern that this is some kind of trap. simon sighs, rubbing his hand over his face and feeling the fabric of his balaclava catch on the callouses.

"go on, back to bed. my bed," he clarifies when your lip begins to quiver. he brings in a bowl of cereal for you, exasperated to find you perched gingerly on the very edge of the bed, ready to slide onto the floor at a moments notice. "stay up there, lovie, get comfortable. there you go."

he hands you the bowl and watches your tentative movements as you wriggle your fat thighs around to sit more securely on the bed. your sleep shirt clings to your round belly, making it even more apparent as you begin to eat your cereal. god damn, you really were the prettiest little thing. with your thick thighs and arms, ghost thought you would be a sturdy girl, able to take his cruelty, but looking into your sweet face he knows he had been wrong. you poor little thing, so obedient and fragile. he resolved to be at least a little gentler with you, his new favorite toy. he really ought to make it up to you, coax you back in to him, but ghost doesn't do apologies.

he's always thought actions speak louder than words.

his hand is slow when it creeps to your hair as you eat, his eyes drawn to the way your ears twitch when he scratches at the base of them with dirty fingernails. you drink the milk from the bowl, sweetened by the tooth-rotteningly sugar cereal price indulges you with, and ghost wipes the milk mustache from your upper lip with the rough pad of his thumb. your pink tongue pokes out to lick it obediently off of his fingers, just like you would do with price. god, he wanted to make you cry, those big eyes would look so pretty glassy with tears, but he'd already hurt you enough in the past day.

simon considers your face for a moment. he doesn't really do kisses either, unless price makes him, and even then his favorite place to kiss is the sole of the captain's boot. instead, simon scratches your ears absentmindedly until you nuzzle into his palm. you seem content to lie in his bed all day with his hand in your hair, but frankly, he finds that a boring solution to his self-made problem. instead, he trails his hand down your face and thick neck to where your collarbones are barely bumps under soft fat and skin. he draws circles there for a moment, watching your reactions to his touch with feigned disinterest. he'd never bothered to learn you before, leaving that up to price, but now... well, getting to know his favorite chew toy a little better couldn't hurt.

his hand moves down, cupping one of your tits in his hand. even his big palm didnt cover the whole thing, so big and soft, and that interested him more than the thought of your pretty tears.

"take this off, yeah?" he phrases it as a question, but the way you jump to do as he says makes it seem like gospel. you're even prettier underneath, rolls on your sides and your tummy hanging over the waistband of your sleep shorts, littered with stretch marks that remind simon of his own. your nipples are already pebbling, fuck you're so pretty. he pinches at them more gently than he usually would, trying to mimic what he's seen price do to you. the satisfying little whine you let out tells him he'd probably doing something right, eyes flitting back up to yours. oh, sensitive thing, you're already eager for more, he can see it in your eyes.

he's seen price lavish your tits with his mouth and he's seen how you squirm and preen from it, so he rolls up his mask over his nose and dips down to seal his lips around your swollen nipple. he rubs his tongue against it and when that doesn't elicit the response he wants, he sucks on it with a little more force than necessary. now you let out that lovely little noise, and he feels his cock twitch to life. his mouth waters at the taste of you, sucking and licking your nipple with an almost clinical focus, trying to figure out what you like. his fingers tweak your other nipple and, there, there it is again, that precious little moan. he salivates over the taste of you, his spit dripping down when he bites at your skin, enjoying how you squirm.

"simon, simon" your breathy voice breaks through his focus and his eyes turn up to meet yours. he huffs when all you do is stare at him and squirm, and he pinches your nipple meanly.

"you want something, lovie?" he snips, "you ask."

"please, touch me?" he rolls his eyes. you're so vocal with price. are you really so scared of him?

"words, pet, or i'll leave you like this," he warns. "be specific."

"please, please touch my pussy," you whimper. what a lovely sound. "or let me touch you?"

ghost considers having you suck him off. he's seen you wrap your lips around price's cock and hump his leg until you cum, rutting against his boots like the desperate little pup you are, and he has to admit it’s tempting. he's already hard in his boxers, fuck is he hard, but he reminds himself this is supposed to be for you. instead of responding, he pushes his hand on your plush belly and forces you down on your back, shuffling his way down the bed. he yanks your panties and shorts down and off your legs with little ceremony, forcing your thick thighs wide enough for him to get a look at your pussy. he spreads the folds apart, watching how you glisten.

"please, simon," you whine, rolling your hips forward to try and get his thick fingers inside of you.

"isn't this what you wanted?" he tuts, but relents. he's forced his fingers into you many times, but after a moment more he realizes that he's never put his mouth on you, never licked into your cunt or sucked on your clit. has he ever eaten cunt? not to his memory. shit, maybe he should stick to what he knows--but you look so sweet weeping for him. there's a first time for everything.

he leans down, unsure of where to begin, and licks a long stripe up your cunt. your hips buck into his face and he does it again. you taste good, he decides. he wants more.

ghost buries his tongue in your pussy and you make a delicious noise. he licks in and out, getting more of that tangy sweetness in his mouth and dripping down his chin and fuck he loves it, no wonder price spends so long with your thighs pressed tight around his head. you clench around his tongue and he groans. soft and wet and sweet, he could stay here forever. only the dissatisfied whines from your lips tear him away for a moment realizing he's been neglecting your poor, throbbing clit. how mean of him. he scrapes his teeth across it just to hear you cry out before pulling it into his mouth, forcing his tongue under the hood to rub the nerves hard enough to make you weak. he grinds his own hips into the bed, his cock so hard in his pants that he considers pulling away entirely to shove it inside you--but all thoughts of forcing his cock in your pussy fly away when he feels you gush out more of that sweetness he wants.

simon sinks back down, slurping pornographically against the folds of your cunt. the fabric of the balaclava, still rucked up over his nose, grinds against your clit.

"simon, simon, si," you babble his name and he finds that he enjoys sound of that too.

"i know, lovie, i know," he grunts, muffled into your cunt. he could go on like this for a while for his own pleasure, and maybe one time he will, but right now this is for you, so he pulls his tongue reluctantly out of your cunt and goes back to licking your throbbing clit, hard and swollen under his touch. his thick fingers find their way to your weeping entrance, working in slow enough to make your head fall back in a noise of anguish. he pumps them in and out faster, luxuriating in the wet sound. in and out, in and out, and soon you're chanting for him. his name, his callsign, babbled sounds that barely sound like words at all, and he devours each noise with the same enthusiasm that he eats you out with. your thighs tighten around his head, squishing tight over his ears and he begrudges the slight loss of those precious noises. oh well, he'll just have to make you scream.

his fingers move faster, so long and thick that he manages to find that spot inside you that makes you sob above him, panting and squirming like you're unsure if you want to get away or drive yourself closer. ghost doesn't care--if you tried to pull back right now he'd just drag you back. you're close, he can tell, so close he imagines he can taste the change on his tongue. he wants to pull back and encourage you to come with his words, but he just can't seem to pull away from your clit, sucking and sucking and sucking and--

you do scream for him, loud and trembling and gushing over his fingers oh-so-sweetly, and simon feels his boxers fill with warmth. christ, he came in his fucking boxers from eating your pretty cunt, he'd have to make this a habit--maybe with price fucking into him from behind, wouldn't that be something? he sits up, panting and licking the wetness off of his mouth, finally seeing the limpness of your body and that deliciously fucked-out look on your face. he pats your thigh.

"need a nap, hm?" he suggests, though you seem like you're not quite back to coherence yet. what would price do right now, he considers. food and water and a warm washcloth come to his mind, though price usually has those prepped and on hand. still, he's pretty sure he could scrounge up a water bottle and some fruit for you. he slides off of the bed, surprised to hear a distressed whimper when he does.

you're holding out your weak arms to him, lip trembling. he stares at you, confused. the fuck are you asking for? cuddles?

oh. right.

ghost considers for a moment. cuddles are on the list of things he doesn't do, right up there with kisses and apologies, but you look vulnerable and warm and so, so soft. naked in his bed, eyes wide, begging to be held, he can't deny you, can he?

he sighs and slides back in with you, grunting when you press your face to his chest in delight.

"gonna be fuckin' gross when you wake up," he grumbles, thinking about the stickiness between your thighs and in his boxers, but wraps his arms around you nonetheless. your ears twitch and under the blankets he can hear your tail thump, eyes closing right away. you're just as soft and warm as you looked.

he's fucked.

Wonderful ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

Ghost Head Cannons||: Dad Life - Newborn Edition

( No Gender specified for Kiddo or User )

Dad!Simon, who just can't stop staring at his little baby as he holds them in his arms, even when he passes them back to you, he can't stop staring at the little bundle, his head resting on your shoulder.

Dad!Simon, who did cry silently with joy when he was alone with them, processing the fact he's actually got a little family of his own, the possibility once seeming so far from him.

Dad!Simon, who's more than used to staying up long nights, happily taking up the nightshifts while you get proper rest, not letting you take more than needed.

Dad!Simon, who remembers how to change diapers after helping care for his late nephew, so there's no debate when the time comes to it and you're busy.

Dad!Simon, who talks to the kid like he would another grown person, like they'll understand or retain any of rants he shares "'M only sayin', Price keeps trustin' yer Uncle Johnny to handle the recruits, we're only gonna get a army of Johnny's and I can barely handle one as it is." *Baby makes a low noise or flails a tiny hand* "Y'know that's exactly what he did, toss a hand and gruff at me when I told 'im that, but 'M tellin' you, it's just gonna be a headache at the end of it."

Dad!Simon, who goes about the trouble of finding "excuses" to hang out with his own kid, always cooking or helping clean with them in his arms when he has the chance to, "Look at you, layin' about like yer gonna live rent free forever. Oh no, you and I are gonna do some work round the house together, start you early on how things are run here."

Dad!Simon, who, yes, does explain every recipe and chore to the baby. You're not quite sure if he's legitimate about it or it's for his own amusement, but he looks happy anyways.

I never thought I would want something like this before (≧◡≦)

MDNI 18+

simon would make you ride and hump his boot whenever you were being a desperate little thing. a small desperate whine left your lips as you pathetically grind on his combat boot, your mouth glossy with your own saliva as you looked up at simon pleading, eyes wide and glossy. “told you sweetheart, ‘m busy.” simon merely grunted as he pretended that you didn’t even exist, like you were a pest bothering him. a small huff escaped your pouty lips as your movements became slightly more messy, your arms wrapped around his leg as you tried to get some sort of friction from his boots, every little edge and lace that rubbed your slick folds. “si, i need you,” your voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes your inner thighs glistening from your arousal as the laces were now damp from them too, though clearly simon did not care. “don’t be so lazy sweetheart, you can do it yourself.” his tone cold and nonchalant, whilst you were the complete opposite, you felt your body get increasingly hot and bothered, cheeks flushed as you looked up at simon through your lashes, again completely unbothered. your panties were completely soaked, the outline of your cunt visible as you left small damp spots on his boot. as the ache in your past increased, your folds swollen but with no release you reached for the zipper on his cargo pants, simon’s strong hands gripping your wrist instinctively. “what are you doing love?” his tone stern as his eyes narrowed, disapproval painted on his face. “need you,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as your bottom lip quivered, tears welling up in your eyes. “lay down and spread your legs,” simon ordered, not even bothering to look at you. obediently you followed, the cold material of the floor making you shiver slightly as you spread your legs, your cunt fully visible from your soaked panties. slowly, simon lifted his leg, his boot to your cunt before gently pressing down on your clit, eliciting a whine. simon spoke cooly “keep quiet if you want to come sweetheart.”

\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/ stuck with me forever XD

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

AAAAHHHHH This is fantastic like it’s so beautiful chefs kiss ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

They can do more than that if they want (≧◡≦)

i gotta go and think about golfer! john price and his buddies who frequent the country club you work at and they tip extra nice, and sometimes they like to slip it in the waistband of your skirt!!

AMERICA (￣^￣)ゞ(￣^￣)ゞ🦅🦅🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸 but this is so funny XD like Kyle crashing out is so funny XD

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

Will be silently waiting for part 5 but this is good \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

P2 P3

Reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

You had a support system, friends who joked about you having way too much fun, hence your predicament, others already offering to buy things for the baby and your parents who couldn't be happier to meet their grandchild.

But what about the father?

Well, it's not exactly like you could track him down. Fuck, you didn't even know the man's name, only how he made you feel, his filthy words strumming in your ear, big hands tight around your waist, hips slamming away in a desperate chase.

Let's forget how you leg-locked him.

When your daughter was born, everything changed, and time slowed down. She was a quiet baby, barely crying or having any outbursts like a normal child would but outspoken in her own little way. That chunky thing came out of the womb with a glare. Brown eyes staring down anyone and everyone but you.

That's something she definitely got from her father. You vividly remember how his umber eyes watching you from across the bar. He was like an eagle waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey. A perfect soldier.

So, you named your daughter Adira in memory of his strength. That's one thing he could have.

Adira loved to be by your side. Her chubby cheeks pressed into the nook of your neck, holding you close with strength of a thousand babies. Your clingy little thing was a koala, always by her mommy's side, never straying far no matter how curious she got. When she learned to walk, her favorite thing became to hug your leg, especially while in stores. She hated people, wearing a tiny scowl whenever customers passed by tucking herself closer to you.

Maybe it was a good thing her father wasn't around. Having to compete for her first words would've been a bloodbath.

You spent two years in bliss. The fact that you were a single mother an afterthought to raising what you considered a blessing.

With Adira's second Christmas coming up, you wanted to do something special. She loved trains and found them absolutely amusing, often mimicking the honk as she ran around your apartment. Thankfully, there was a train ride for kids around the park during this time of year.

Here, you stood in line, bundled up to the nines. Big poofy coat, warm gloves, and fuzzy boots. As the crowd moved, Adira clung close, arms wrapped around your leg, glowering at any passerby with an annoyed look on her rosy cheeks.

That one was new. Maybe something else she got from her father.

The two of you took steps in tow, keeping Adira close and comfortable as the train came into view. Her expression shifted, excitement palpable. "Twain!" She squealed, jumping up and down.

Before you could respond to Adira's childlike joy, a man bumped into you by accident, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He turns to look at you, blue eyes meeting yours, but you were too focused on the weird ass Mohawk on his head.

People wore still those?

"Sorry bout that lass." The man starts to apologize, a Scottish accent lacing his voice.

That breaks your stare, laughing awkwardly to mask your wandering gaze. "Oh no, it's fine. You should be careful. you might slip on ice."

He nods, giving you a kind smile. The Scottish man starts to leave, but the look your kid was giving him sent shivers down his spine.

Little Adira was giving him a fierce stare down from behind your leg before ultimately cutting her eyes at him as if he were merely a nuisance.

"Next in line! Mctavish!"

The man doesn't stay after that. You assume that it was him they were calling with the way he hurried off. Hope he doesn't fall, seemed like a nice guy.

Soap can't help but do a double take when be gets to the front. The little rascal was wearing his Lieutenants face, hawk eyeing anyone who dared got to close. It was like looking in a mirror.

He nudged Gaz, making a gesture to look back without making it obvious. "See the lass and her bairn in line?"

Gaz gives him a raised brow, looking back for a second before turning around. "There's a lot of kids with their mother's, Johnny."

Soap glances back, double checking to make sure you were still in line. “The lass with the wee one—she’s got the same wicked look as Lt. You cannae miss her.”

Gaz rolls his eyes but humors Soap by looking once more, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on a little girl already mean-mugging him from a distance. He swiftly turns around, blinking in surprise, trying to comprehend what he saw. "Uh..."

Soap only nods in agreement. That was Ghost's face, on a kid no less. He wastes no time, elbowing Roach and getting him to look back as well, leaving the other Sergeant in the same shock as Gaz. "That is not a face a kid should have."

"Agreed." Gaz added, shuddering at the thought.

"Where's the cap?" Soap asks, the train ride no longer feeling like fun now that he’s discovered the jackpot.

"Market place with Lt. for cigs," Gaz knowingly remarked, remembering that Price had run out on their way here.

"Well, let's go show them a Christmas miracle," Soap shot up from his seat all too eagerly.

The sergeants just got their Christmas present.

Interrogation Ghost x konig x male reader (Slight NSFW) Your name is Zhenya <3

Zhenya sat in the dimly lit room, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on his face. His wrists were bound to the metal chair, the cold steel biting into his skin. He had been captured under suspicion of treason and collaboration with enemy forces, charges that could lead to a fate worse than death.

The door creaked open, and Zhenya's eyes flicked up to see two imposing figures step inside. Ghost, his skull mask gleaming menacingly, and König, a giant of a man whose presence alone was enough to instill fear.

Ghost approached first, his demeanor icy and unyielding. "Zhenya, you've got a lot of explaining to do," he said, his voice a low growl. "Caught red-handed with intel that could sink our entire operation."

Zhenya's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice steady.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist onto the table, causing it to rattle. "Don't play games with us," he snapped. "We've got evidence, and you're going to tell us who you're working for."

Before Zhenya could respond, König stepped forward. His height and build made him tower over Zhenya, and his cold blue eyes were void of any warmth. "You think this is a joke?" he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You think you can just lie to us and walk away?"

König's hand shot out, gripping Zhenya's jaw with bruising force. "You'll speak, one way or another," he hissed, his breath hot against Zhenya's face.

Zhenya's resolve wavered under König's intense gaze. He could feel the fear creeping in, but he knew he had to stay strong. "I'm not a traitor," he insisted, his voice trembling slightly. "You've got the wrong guy."

Ghost moved behind Zhenya, his gloved hands sliding over his shoulders. "Is that so?" he murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Then maybe you need a little persuasion."

Without warning, Ghost's hands tightened, his grip turning painful. König's fingers dug into Zhenya's jaw, forcing his head back. The cold and ruthless nature of their interrogation left no room for mercy.

König's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "We're going to enjoy breaking you," he said, his voice a chilling promise.

Zhenya's heart raced as he realized the depths of their intentions. They were determined to extract the truth, no matter the cost. And in that dimly lit room, surrounded by shadows and fear, he knew he was at the mercy of Ghost and König's unrelenting cruelty.

T'ILL MORNING

Simon riley x FEM!reader | fluff, smut | 321? Words |

Warnings: smut, fluff, p in v

A/N: also sorry for deleting my writings all of my writings were so unorganized at all

16+ underage dni

The morning sunlight streamed in through the curtains, painting the room in a warm, golden glow. Y/N lay in bed, her body still tingling from the night's activities. She could feel the weight of Simon pressed against her back, his strong arms wrapped tightly around her, their entwined limbs tangled in the sheets. For a moment, she relished in the comfort of his embrace, the heat of his skin against hers, before a delicious memory flooded her senses.

The previous night, they had been unable to sleep, their bodies aching with desire. Simon had slowly stripped her naked, his hands trailing over her skin with a possessive tenderness. He had entered her with one forceful thrust, filling her completely, and from that moment on, it seemed like they couldn't get close enough. His thrusts were rough and demanding, each one making her moan and squirt with uninhibited pleasure. It had been the most intense and unforgettable experience of her life.

Now, as she lay in bed, savoring the warmth of Simon's body and the lingering afterglow of their passion, she couldn't help but wonder how they had gone so long without exploring this side of their relationship. It was as if they had both been waiting for this moment, for the chance to finally give in to the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. She knew that from now on, their connection would be irrevocably changed, forever marked by the memory of this perfect night of love and lust.

She shifted slightly in his embrace, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. His skin was warm and smooth, and she could feel his heart racing beneath her ear. The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, mixing with the unmistakable muskiness of their lovemaking. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Thank you, Simon," she whispered softly. "That was... incredible."

He shifted slightly, turning his head to press a kiss against the top of her hair. "You're welcome, love. I've wanted this for so long." He paused, his voice rough with emotion. "I never wanted anyone else but you."

Y/N felt a shiver of pleasure run down her spine at his words. She knew that they had both crossed a line last night, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of rightness, of completion. They belonged together, and last night had only served to strengthen that bond. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, reveling in the feel of his strength and the steady rhythm of his heart.

As she drifted back to sleep, she was aware of the weight of his hand on her hip, guiding her closer into his body. She knew that when they finally woke up, their lives would have changed irrevocably, but for now, they could just be together, wrapped in each other's arms, and savor the memory of this perfect night.

This, and Every Other World (Prologue)

The night creeps in, cold but not unforgiving. Not with Simon laid under you, his body giving off enough heat to chase the chill away. You’re splayed over his torso, ear pressed to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

Meeting him, having him love you, it felt like a miracle. If things in your life had gone differently, would the two of you even have crossed paths? Would you have gotten the chance to be pressed against him like this, body sore in the best way from being ravished so thoroughly. Would your left hand have the ring he gave you on it?

You push yourself up, leaning over him a bit. His dark eyes flit open, finding you immediately. 

“You alright?” He asks, voice thick with interrupted sleep. 

You frown to yourself, reaching out to lightly run your fingers over his face. He hums softly, eyes closing a bit as he lets himself enjoy your touch. His lips part, just slightly, when you brush over them, before he catches your fingertips in the quickest of kisses. 

"Do you think we find and fall in love with each other in every universe?" 

The question jolts him awake, eyebrows rising as he peers at you in the darkness. 

"I don't know," He admits. "I've never thought about things like that." 

Such a Simon thing to say. It honestly didn’t surprise you that much that he’d never put any time into these kinds of thought experiments. But you were curious, and maybe a bit insecure, so you decide to press on with it anyway. 

“Can you try to think about it?”

“Alright, alright.” 

Simon "Ghost" Riley looks like his father, and he hates it.

He hates the way his eyebrows arch, hates his nose, his lips, his fucking eyelashes. All of it.

He's honestly grateful for his compulsive need to wear the mask following his capture and the deaths of his family. When he wears it, he doesn't have to look at his father every time he looks in the mirror.

But then comes you.

You kiss his eyes, his nose, his lips, and you take picture after picture on the rare occasions he allows.

You run your hands through his hair, brush your fingertips over his hated features, and you look at him like he's the most beautiful thing in the world.

You spoil him with affection, mask or no mask, but the way you light up when he pulls it from his head and lets it fall wherever he drops it, exposing his face to you...it makes him start to think that maybe...

Maybe his face was okay.

Mafiaboss!Simon, who is a complete asshole to any and every damn one.

Mafiaboss!Simon when he gets absolutely starstruck for once in his life when he realizes the person he had a meeting for deals with was a woman and not a man.

Mafiaboss!Simon getting flustered under his balaclava and his men KNOW it, but you don't.

Mafiaboss!Simon just agreeing to whatever you say unless it's specifics cause he just can't find it in himself to say no.

Mafiaboss!Simon hating himself for thinking of taking you home and doing everything. Sex, cooking, movies. It don't matter. If it's you, he wants it.

Mafiaboss!Simon being crazy respectful, "Ma'am", "Miss", "Mrs. Y/N".

Mafiaboss!Simon going home afterwards to fuck his fist while whimpering your name like a bitch.

Mafiaboss!Simon not having the guts to ask you out till weeks later

Mafiaboss!Simon being absolutely rocked when you both agree to go to his home for the night, and you weren't afraid to fuck him silly.

Mafiaboss!Simon babbling in his thick accent about how good you feel, how pretty you are, and how much of a good mama you'd be to his kids. He didn't mean to say it. But hey? A kink you can use to your advantage for sure.

Poly!Ghoap You, Johnny, and Simon all travel to Johnnys hometown and spend the holidays with his family. (Johnnys mom LOVES Simon and would trade Johnny for him.)

Poly!Ghoap will split up home chores, Johnny will be outside and doing ‘blue jobs’, Simon likes doing laundry because I think he’s an organized king, and you have to cook because these boys cannot (seriously please don’t let them in the kitchen)

Poly!Ghoap who has fun hobbies, I imagine Simon likes knitting because his mom did. Johnny would love building mini figurines (he was definitely a Lego kid no debate)

Poly!Ghoap unironically loves rom-coms and will be sat on the couch with a bowl of popcorn for the new episodes of Love is Blind.

Poly!Ghoap has AWFUL sleeping habits. Johnny cannot stay still, even when he’s sleeping. And don’t even get me started on Simon, because when he’s home, he sleeps like the dead and sounds like I, too. I mean snores like a dad, so get ready to worm yourself out of bed at 1 am and sleep in the guest bedroom (don’t be surprised when you wake up squished back in between your boys)

uhhhh who wants simon ghost riley normal/relationship headcanons? anyone???

●・○・●・○・●

✧ i think that: ghost has the softest hands known to man kind. he gets self conscious about it because he’s been a soldier for years and wishes his hands were more roughed up and reflected his gritty persona and job (i want his hands to be calloused too but c'mon and imagine soft handed simon…)

✧ i think that: ghost is sensitive to fragrant smells. ex: flowers or specific expensive perfumes, it just gives him a huge headache and makes his mood sour (he’s deathly allergic to pollen, not dust though).

✧ i think that: his ribs are sensitive (obviously iykyk) so he tends to guard them more whenever sparring or out in the field (like keeping his arms tucked close to his sides). but he lets you touch them lovingly after gaining his trust, just remember to be gentle, yeah?

✧ i think that: ghost runs extremely cold or hot, there’s no in between. if you're lounging with him, you'll either be practically one with him or on the opposite end of the furniture.

✧ i think that: he probably gets migraines a lot. with all the gunfire and flashing lights of his profession, he's prone to the horrible ache in his skulls we all know and hate. show up with some medicine and tea for him and he's smitten.

✧ i think that: he sleeps with the thinnest blanket ever and doesn’t have a duvet on his bed (he thinks it’s too soft of a luxury for him).

✧ i think that: this man can and will fall asleep anywhere and at any time to make up for the lack of it he gets. back from a rough op? nap for a couple minutes. on the heli to a new base? he says he's just resting his eyes, but everyone knows he fell asleep for real.

✧ i think that: ghost prefers sour and salty foods and doesn't have the biggest sweet tooth (as much as i want him to). though, he does like dark chocolate and gets mad when you say that doesn't really count. he can handle SOME spice but avoids it if optional.

✧ i think that: ghost's favorite animal has to be a wolf (stereotypical much?), snake, or another kind of lizard. maybe something like a kimodo dragon? if you take him to the zoo he beelines for the reptile and fish exhibits. aquarium date anyone?

✧ i think that: he hates when people mock his accent, he can't help it so whats the problem? maybe hate is a strong word but he definitely doesn't care for it. if you're close to him relationship wise he'll just scoff and pretend to be annoyed, but the accent on you does sound cute....

●・○・●・○・●

omg whats up guys... its been a sec im sorry college is a bitch and a half. uhh im slowly getting back into cod after a few other phases have died down. if you liked this check out my menu to request a short fic! thank you!!!! - emile :3

the masses wanted it and now you receive! part two to my little ghost and fucked up hybrid!reader is here!!!

here's part one!

a/n: reader is a german shepard hybrid! and will now be presented as fem! i hope thats okay!!!

cw: little bit of violence but idk if i'd even be considered that

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

"I'll take her."

Did you hear him right? You think that's what you heard the man say... How odd, he had only gotten not even a look at your battered form, not even seen how you fight, and yet he's going to take you. You slowly turn once more to peer over your shoulder at the man on the other side of the bars; Ghost- you heard the workers call him.

With narrowed eyes you know what's about to happen, it happens every time you're chosen for a job and must be transferred. Gas starts to come up from holes in your cell, making your vision grow hazy and slowly start to fall asleep.

Ghost watches from the other side of your cell, watching in discomfort as your gassed to sleep, your now lifeless body being manhandled by the workers that entered your cell the second you were down. Ghost shifts in his spot as he sees your wrists and ankles chained together in pair with a muzzle around your mouth that sits over your lower face and wraps around tightly to the back of your head.

"Is this necessary..?"

Ghost speaks up and glares at one of the workers bringing you to your feet and dragging you out the doors of the facility and towards the chopper. The worker that he got a hold of nods his head and makes a gesture for Ghost to follow him as they walk to the chopper.

"Yes sir- she's... Not always privy to being assigned to a new handler- this is just for insurance that she won't lash out."

Ghost just grunts in response, this was going to be a pain in his ass. You were going to be a pain in his ass. The Lieutenant watches as you're forcefully shoved into a cage in the back of the chopper, his dark eyes beneath his mask narrowing as you're locked in and your chains are secured to the hull of the chopper. With one last glance at the facility, Ghost climbs into the back of the chopper, choosing to take one of the seats near where you're caged.

When the chopper lifts off the tarmac, Ghost notices you flinch as you sit with your knees to your chest- the same position you were in back in your old cell. Trauma response? Maybe. Ghost thinks to himself as his eyes glaze over you, noticing every nick, bruise, and scar on your body that's obvious. After a few boring seconds of silence the Lieutenant finally speaks up, addressing you for the first time.

"My name's-"

"Simon."

Ghost all but flinches as the sound of your voice, the man steeling himself instantly. The hell did he jump for? You're just some mutt. Though, his eyes darken and narrow into sharp slits beneath his mask when he realizes you said his name; not his callsign or last name, his first name.

"Workers liked to chat about things on the down low away from us. Wrong thing to do around creatures with enhanced hearing."

To practically prove your point, one of your ears flick atop your head before flattening back down against your skull. Ghost honestly didn't know how to feel; he wanted to throttle the blabber mouths that even dared utter his name, while also basking in the sound of your voice. It was muffled from the muzzle around your mouth, but despite that Ghost notices the pitch is strained and scratchy as you speak in a quiet whisper that's barely audible above the whirring of the chopper's blades, while also holding some semblance of softness under all the grit and gore of your very being.

"Right. It should just be Ghost to you though, I don't really do familiarity."

Ghost hears your sigh and simply stares at you, giving you an expectant look conveyed through just his dark eyes. When you catch on to what he wants you give him your name, muttering it into the air quietly so that Ghost almost doesn't catch it. The Lieutenant registers your name, grumbling it out with his gravelly voice and accent before nodding stiffly and looking you up and down, staring at your tail wrapped around your thigh and ears atop your head.

"The hell are you anyways?"

The man before you questions. Probably not the best tone of voice in his approach, but Ghost didn't think you wanted to be babied, you don't look the type to him. Your eyes slowly trail up to Ghost's, simply keeping eye contact with the man before you murmur your species, German Shepard.

Ghost hums, breaking eye contact with you and looking down at his boots for a fleeting second before looking out one of the small circular windows in the chopper. Guess that was typical, it's the average breed of hybrid that enlisted into the forces.

Simon always did like German Shepards...

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

hi guys i'm alive!!! college got a little rough and i've started working out so.. my hands are full and all that. hope you guys are staying safe and i love you all :3

don't boo me but i like the hybrid au's for cod, maybe even a little a/b/o in the midst (though that's not what this one is about)

so now i'm just thinking about a hybrid! reader who's all sorts of fucked and gets picked up by ghost for the 141

cw: kinda angsty with descriptions of abuse, dog(hybrid?) fighting, and scars

heres part 2!!

‧˚₊•┈┈୨୧┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

It isn't like Ghost hates hybrids; he's worked with them on missions before and dismissed them as any other soldier, everyone was just doing their job after all. As long as the objective was complete, that's what mattered. Though when Price told him he was being sent to a location to 'pick out" a hybrid from a facility (Laswell thought it'd be good for their team, a new set of hands and efficiency to the group and all that), he couldn't help the disagreeing grumbles that escaped past his mouth as he begrudgingly went on his way to the helipad, cursing to himself the whole way and glaring at his boots.

After the nearly agonizing chopper ride, the wheels touch down on the tarmac of the facility, a worker immediately stumbling towards Ghost as he steps out of the chopper. He didn't catch the guy's name, didn't care either. He was here for some furball soldier that could help his team, that's all that matters. The worker guides the Lieutenant through the stone walls of the facility, the smell of mold and mildew making him wrinkle his nose beneath his mask.

In the distance of the long hallways, he can hear the yells and barks of hybrids, cringing internally as the worker turns a corner and leads him to a large room of kennels and cells. Each step Ghost takes causes a hybrid to look up, many starting to growl or hide within their cells while others lay against the cold cell floor, bodies barely moving with the only sign of life being a rising and falling chest.

He's seen a lot over his years as a soldier, and he's not so easily rattled, but this was a whole new experience of discomfort and pity for him. The conditions were bad, worse than any kind of kennel he remembers when he was young, and that was for full bred animals. Ghost eyes each hybrid slowly, taking in the diverse appearances of breeds and species of hybrid. Though each is a pathetic sort, the one true hybrid that caught Ghosts eye was one that was in the corner, the cell seemingly reinforced with different metal. In the middle of the cage there you sit, back facing the door and simply staring at the wall as multiple chains hand from your ankles and wrists, a prong collar tightly pressing against your throat. Ghost wonders why you were needed to be so heavily contained, your crooked tail wrapped around your leg as your torn and notched ears that press flat against your head making you seem like a harmless broken ittle thing.

"I wouldn't recommend that one, Lieutenant."

The worker speakers quickly, warily eyeing you behind the bars of your cell. Ghost's eyes stay on you, catching onto the small twitch of your ear. You know they're talking about you.

"Why, she broken?"

Ghost says roughly, keeping his dark unblinking stare on your battered form noticing the small twitch of your tail, probably annoyance, he clues, due to his words.

"Not exactly but.."

The worker pauses, causing Ghost to maneuver his unblinking gaze to him, making the worker freeze and fumble over his words.

"But-But she has a history of recklessness, a lack of respect for authority and horrible at responding to orders. Not something you need on a team like yours."

At the workers words you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, revealing the dullness in your eyes and prominent scars across your face. Scratches, bites, lacerations; Ghost can identify easily each one. The worker grimaces beneath your steely gaze and takes a step back from the cell, practically shaking in his boots. To say that Ghost was intrigued would be an understatement. He knows that look in your eyes; the coldness of someone who's killed and has started to become numb, with emotions raging within just waiting to be unleashed and ruin your very being. He's seen it before, he's seen it in him.

Goddamnit, he want to know more about you.

"How long's she been here?"

The lieutenant questions, maintaining eye contact with you and frowning beneath his mask when you look away, the tiny spark in your eye at his question not being lost to him before you turn your head away.

"Couple of months maybe? She was handed over to us after being used for cage fighting and served for a couple of PMC's- so I suppose she does have some experience in the field if you were really inclined.."

The Lieutenant couldn't help the small frown that is invisible beneath his mask, the words 'handed over' causing a foul taste to coat his tongue. He knew many hybrids were considered lesser than humans, and it never bothered him before, but when in relation to you it ground his gears just that little bit. Ghost clicks his tongue and sends the worker a small glare before returning his flat gaze back to you, narrowing his eyes and watching as you scratch at the stone floor, the movement revealing the numerous scars and burns along your arms. Sure, Ghost had known you (not even really known yet) for a couple of minutes, but he was sold. And when he speaks, he stares straight into the workers eyes and speaks in the flattest most straight forward tone possible, there was no mistaking it-

"I'll take her."

‧˚₊•┈┈୨୧┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

hey guys!!

uhh tell me if you see this becoming a little story or just want a few parts to it, i love the feedback and it makes me happy seeing everyone like my little works of fleeting words

thank you so much!

-emile :3

screw my college work, all i can think about is ghost being clingy after a tough mission..

cw: tiny bits of angst, fluff

ּ ⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘

Ghost swore his ears were still ringing, the high-pitched noise still ever present in the back of his head amidst the large chopping of the helicopter blades. The mission had gone to shit, most of them have recently after losing Soap. The dynamic of the team was fucked without the boisterous Scotsman, and everyone knew it. Simon appeared to be clingier as of late, definitely a method of subconsciously drowning out his emotions by staying closer to you.

"Five more minutes, yeah?"

Simon grumbles into the skin of your neck when you mention getting up get something to eat as you lay on top of him in his barracks, both of you fresh out of the shower and free from the blood and grit of the outside world. His grip is almost suffocating around you, completely negating his strength and just holding you close, almost as if he's afraid you'll disappear. He took off his gloves a while ago, simply moving his cold fingers underneath the hem of your shirt and brushing them over your skin, memorizing every scar and indent of your very being.

He couldn't lose you. Not you too... You notice his breathing become shallow as he gets lost in his own thoughts. You noticed everything about him at this point. What the small flick of his eyes or hands meant, what mood he was in by just the way he stood, etcetera and all that. You lift your head up to make eye contact with him and come face to face with his hooded eyelids, his eyeblack already starting to rub off and reveal the pale skin of his eyelids and blonde eyelashes as dark brown eyes peer almost lovingly up at you. The look makes you falter, the pure emotion exuding from your usually stoic Lieutenant's eyes throwing you for a loop. As you try to climb off him while muttering excuses to get up, he locks his arms tighter around your back, pulling you back down onto him and practically crushing you against his chest.

"Just stay."

You grumble in turn, starting to protest his clinginess but stop when he pushes his masked face into the crook of your neck and lowering his voice to the gentlest octave you've ever heard it go to.

"Please."

You suppose the mess hall could wait a little longer.

ּ ⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘͞⫘ּׅ͟⫘࣪͞⫘

hi guys omg the feedback has been great and i appreciate every note and reblog, college is starting to get a little rough but i'll tough it out! thank you all so much and don't forget you can go to my menu and order a small fic of your choosing :3

kms. just thinking about Ghost coming home to (roommate! reader) after months of deployment..

cw: fluff :3

✦•······················•✦•·········

Ghost's boots felt heavier than usual as he treks up the stairs to your shared flat in the middle of the night, heavy duffel bag strung over his shoulder seemingly weighing heavier than normal as he pulls out the keys of his jeans to unlock the door. Good girl, he idly thinks, you had a habit of keeping it unlocked until he came along and started to live with you, so he couldn't deny the metaphorical praise he gave to you in his mind for heeding his warnings and remembering to lock the goddamn door.

The lieutenant cracks open the door and walks inside, frowning beneath his mask as the dirt on the bottom of his boots flake off onto the hardwood flooring of the foyer hallway. Ghost keeps his movements light despite his fatigue, the aforementioned action being deceivingly easy for a man of his stature. He decides to kick off his boots, the pressure alleviating from his ankles and the slightly lessened weight makes him groan softly before padding deeper into to the apartment before stopping in his tracks, weighing the idea of calling for you and possibly waking you up.

Before he even registers it, Ghost calls out your name softly into the darkness apartment, loud enough for you to hear if you were awake, but quiet enough that it would wake you up out of your usual sound sleeps. After a few quiet seconds with nothing but the ticking of a clock nearby he moves to take another step but stops when he hears the sound of padded footsteps racing down the hall. Ghost spins around just in time to see you emerge from the nearby hallway, watching as you turn on one of the lamps on a small end table and revealing his shadowy form to your eyes.

Seeing him after countless months, wondering if he was okay, how he was holding up, ate at you. You really hadn't expected to grow so fond of this emotionally distant and aloof masked man that decided to room with you after he realized there was no point in him owning a whole goddamn house or apartment. Against the dead quiet air in the room you murmur his name, and it stabs Ghost in the heart. The sound of your voice after so long causing a high to hit him that's better than any drag of a cigarette or sip of alcohol could provide him.

"Yeah, it's me lov-"

Before the endearing pet name escapes his lips he's cut off by the warmest hug you could offer, your arms wrapping around his wide torso while your hands grip the back of his hoodie in a death grip. Fuck, you really missed him that much, didn't you? Ghost stands still, his heart and mind stuttering before he wraps his arms around you as well, cradling the back of your head with one gloved hand and resting the other on the middle of your back. The two of you just stand there in the dim lighting of the room, the only sound now filling the apartment is the sound of slowed breathing coming from both of you, simply embracing each others presence. Surely there was nothing else to it, right? You just missed your good friend, Simon.

✦•······················•✦•·········

hii guys... i'm so scared rn babies first tumblr post. please have mercy on my soul and tell me what you guys think! also, check out my pinned post to request a fic from my menu :3

thanks!!

- emile

simon 'my missus is the reason i'm alive" riley

him looking up at you with low lids and little hearts in his eyes while his nose is pressed to your cunt

mark zuckerberg looking ahh

Anit depressent pill taking ahh

Losing johnny ahh

Its 12:58 am and all that is coming to my mind is kangaroo hybrid!simon and please tell me I'm not the only one, he stands at a height way above a normal human range almost 7'0, he's jacked unnaturally so, claws as sharp as a knife, has an aura so intimidating that he wards off the most apex of predators. He has those jagged scars on his chest, one across his forehead till his snoot, he's roughed up, raggedy, scary but he has this hunger for you, a female, easy to catch, hard to mate, dreams of your sweet cunt under that tail, he's simply drooling at the thought of how those soft and gummy walls will feel around his Shaft, as he drills into you in the open wild letting everyone in the damn troops know who you belong to, who he belongs to. He can't wait to see you knocked up with his babe, can't wait to see his offspring in your pouch being nurtured by his sweet mum. This mating season best believe he's going to fight and kill anyone that comes in between his darling and the beast himself.

"dinnae act innocent bonnie, we all know where your wee lil' mouth was 10 minutes ago"

you hear johnny's smug voice through that damn walkie talkie along with a muffled chuckle from gaz.

fuck! you forgot to turn off your damn mic before sucking what might be the biggest cock you've ever seen, and also enjoying the hottest blowjob that you've given. no amount of excuses is gonna save you now, everyone knows that you like being face fucked by your superior commanding officer, lieutenant ghost.

but who were you to deny that anyways, you did love sucking his hung cock so much, suckling the tip, peppering the shaft with small kisses, letting the precum drool down your cheek before you actually start taking him fully while he has his hand behind your head guiding his sweetheart through the blowie. Although he's a pinnacle of patience, determination and resilience, it all breaks when he has your soft plump lips wrapped at the base of his cock, the thrusts get sloppy, uneven as he chases his release. And mutters a "swallow it, yea pum'kin jus' like that, All of it" as you drink on his cum, its bitter sweet as per the taste, but its a bit easier now since you're used to it.

it had been noticed by everyone around the base how much the atmosphere charged when ever you and him made even the slightest of contacts, the veterans seemed to ignore it, having had their fair share of flings in their prime, the rookies enjoyed it, but it was soap who enjoyed it the most.

johnny doesn't knows when the lieutenant will share his bird with him. But he's certain that he will one day and its not that far away.

guard dog simon that guard dog simon this but what about old man simon? yup he's an old dog- retired, miserable, reliable, experienced. knows so many horrors to man kind that if he ever decides to talk about it most people get scared but you're different, you listen to him intently with some occasional coos of 'you're so strong', 'that's is so cool' when he talks about the time when he took down a whole unit 36 men to be exact, alone. he was pleasantly surprised that he even managed to pull a bird like you, but somehow he did. Don't even get me started on what this man dreamed about as soon as you decided to talk with him, oh how you'd look with your lips wrapped around his cock, how you'd look with a swollen belly full of his lad, how you'd look sleeping in his bed beside a big chunky baby, he has to stop, he can't afford to cum from just these thoughts. and its not like you didn't know that he was excited or surprised, not after seeing that damn tent in his jeans.

He thinks that he has successfully trapped a bird like you in his cage but what he doesn't realise that he's the one falling into yours.

got this idea from the old man price series by @dumbbitchgalore, thanks :).

obsessed ex simon riley!

here you were in a shared taxi after days of insomnia rethinking you life decisions the clogged the little brain of yours or as simon suggested and again you were thinking of him , you're beloved boyfr ex.

this heartthrob of a guy had eating up every thought , every moment , every spec of a second that you got. Even though he wasn't in your life anymore you never really got over him.you don't know what's going on in his life, he probably moved on. A pretty guy like him always has some backup.

What you didn't know was how much he loved you, how much he need your pretty cunt wrapped around him. You simply didn't understand how much you meant to him because you never got to see yourself from his eyes. for him, you were the first sunlight after the storm, the blooming lotus in a pool of mud, a beauty like yours is divinity that he didnt even know he was allowed to see. and the stupid question 'How much he cared for you' so much that he's even resort to kill.

How he had been watching you get ready for your date this night secretly hoping you'd come to him instead . But it really doesn't matter to him .No matter what you do you will always be his and he will do anything for you. And how pretty you will look smothered in blood .

childhood girlfriend trope but with simon-ghost-riley. In his eyes you're everything to him and everything for him. you both grew apart years ago when he left for the military, yet you still remember the heartbreak that you had when he showed you a college selection letter? no it certainly wasn't and you were definitely clear that it wasn't a college selection letter after seeing the infamous SAS insignia with the motto 'who dares wins'. you wanted to slap simon square in the face, he was only 19 and so were you; promises you made about moving in together, building a small little family together which were either forgotten by him or abandoned by him. sure you sobbed for a few weeks after he left and maybe hated him for the a few months but after a while you grew tired of it, because if he did care for you and your love he would have atleast sent letters asking about your well being, so you set out to find love within someone else's embrace. and after 15 years, when your husband decides to invite his team over for dinner,now imagine the sheer shock on simon's face when his captain introduces you as his wife.

"ya really thought I wouldn't know anything aye?"

your lieutenant's words rang in your ears, these 8 words would've sounded different in any other given situation, but it was definitely something to hear it from ghost when your legs wrapped around his waist squeezing and squelching around him. "sir -hng I -ah" a tight taunting smack was provided to your ass, 'n't allowed to speak sergeant", truth be told after all you had previously secretly whispered here and there into the blue eyed, mohawk pretty bastard about his lieutenant, there was nothing left to say. Maybe you could've avoided this situation if you had kept your thoughts to your own self, all the snide, lewd remarks 'he can have me anywhere', 'i'd slut him out' or was it your sneaky peeks on his biceps when the team worked out together, or how your gaze lingered too long when he did anything remotely suggestive. "next time, if ye wanna say s'mthing say it to my face, not johnny"

"My lil' slag to ruin."

and hopefully now, you don't have to take sneak peeks of his body, hoping to see more, you've seen all of it already.

too cute, ahhh, I mean look at the pattern 👻

A Touch Too Personal

Chapter 1

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You had a crush on Ghost since you started working for Price in communications, but the gruff, reserved Lieutenant only acknowledged your existence on the job. That starts to change with a simple, thoughtful gift.

Warnings: Fluff, Simon is bad at processing emotions, past trauma

You cared deeply about every single one of your teammates. It didn’t matter that you were sitting in an office talking to them over the radio, you were still providing them with intel and directions that kept them alive.

They were like a second family, and so Task Force 141 slowly began to feel like having a lot of older brothers.

Johnny was your go to partner in crime when it came to making mischief, and you knew he was always down for a good prank.

Kyle on the other hand was good for having deep conversations and was the one you always went to for advice.

Ghost…well ghost was a bit different. Your feelings towards him weren’t exactly that of a sibling. Maybe it was because he was more reserved than the others, a mystery or puzzle that you couldn’t quite figure out, but you couldn’t help but feel warm inside on the rare occasion that his intense gaze did linger on you.

Which lead to your current dilemma.

Every time you went home, you made sure to bring one of the boys a gift when you returned to base.

Being that Price was like a father figure, you brought him a handcrafted mug from your hometown’s local pottery festival. Soap had gotten a pocket knife with his call sign engraved on it, and Gaz had received a baseball cap with a hand stitched 141 on the side in his favorite color.

However, now it was Ghost’s turn, and you were at a loss. What would he even like to have? You knew he had an array of tactical gear, you’d seen him knit pick through it on occasion, but you didn’t know enough about working in the field to know kind of tools he’d like. He had so many knives already, that it felt redundant to get him another.

What on earth were you supposed to give this man?

“Maybe you could make this Ghost fella something yourself?” Your mother suggested as you sat in your parents living room to ponder the issue.

Your mother liked Ghost’s nickname, and laughed whenever you brought it up. You could only assume she was picturing a little boy in a Scream costume, and you had to admit that was a little funny. Ghost was the only one to not have shared his real name with you, and thus always ended up being teased by your family, not that he was aware of that.

“Like what?” You asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m stopping by the craft store, how about you come with me instead of sulking in the living room?”

~

You watched your mother peruse through the holiday decorations and shook your head. That woman was amassing quite the Christmas village collection.

You wandered through the store with dwindling hope until you saw it. It was in the fabric section that you found the most perfect pattern for your Lieutenant.

The fabric had a black background, with white Ghosts all over it. You picked up the roll with a brilliant smile on your face, and ran over to one of the fabric department employees.

“I need some of this,” you said, giddy and bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“How much do you want?” The woman asked, preparing her scissors.

Ghost was a pretty large man, and you took a moment to think about just how much fabric you were going to need.

“Uhhh, a lot.”

~

“Lass! How was the family?” Johnny asked, pulling you in for a tight hug as you pulled your luggage into your room on base.

“It was good, ate a lot, took my cousins shooting, family stuff,” you said with a grin. “I gotta show you something,” you insisted, pulling him inside your room.

“Oh? What’s that?” He asked curiously.

“You know how I always bring back a surprise?” You began, a grin on your face.

“Who’s the lucky winner?” He chucked.

“You tell me.” You beamed at him as you pulled out the larger than life knot-tie blanket you’d made, and Johnny’s jaw dropped.

“You did not!” He gasped, chuckling at he inspected it. One side was the Ghost fabric you’d found, and the other was made from the softest army green material you could find. In the top corner. You’d stitched in a small British Flag patch, and each corner has a sandbag sewn in.“You made him a bloody weighted blanket? What gave you that idea?” He asked.

“We’ll I couldn’t find anything I thought he’d like at first, but then I saw the fabric and it just fell together so perfectly!”

“Oh man, I would kill to see his reaction to this,” Johnny said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“You say that like we ever get to see his reaction to anything,” you stated. You’d never actually seen him without some sort of face covering.

Johnny tisked softly and shrugged. “Alright, you got me there,” he admitted. “He’s in his room now, probably as good a time as any.”

You couldn’t help but grin broadly. “Perfect.”

~

You felt a lump form in your throat as you approached Ghost’s door. You knew it was just the nerves that came along with your little crush on the Lieutenant, but it still made the task at hand a little daunting.

You took a deep breath, knocking softly on the door. Maybe you should have wrapped it for him. What if he didn’t like it? How were you supposed to react if he just brushed you off.

The door opened before you could rethink your decision. It always came as a shock how large Ghost was, no matter how many times you stood mask to face.

“You’re back.”

You felt your heart rate spike. He had noticed you were gone? Had noticed you? Of course he had noticed, it was his job to notice, it didn’t mean anything.

“Yeah,” you said, waiting for him to ask how your trip was, or if you were glad to be back. He didn’t.

“I got you something!” You said suddenly, holding the folded blanket out to him, and his entire body seemed to freeze. He stared at it for a moment or two, as if he were slowly processing the object.

“What is it?”

Your smile faltered. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he inspected it as if it were some kind of trick. “It’s a weighted blanket,” you said as he took it carefully from your hands.

“Where’d you get it?”

Shit, he hates it.

“I- Uhm. I made it,” you admitted, your cheeks blazing. This was stupid. You were stupid.

He looked between you and the blanket in his hands, and nodded. “Thanks,” he said before stepping back into his room and closing the door.

You pressed your lips together firmly in an attempt to not start bawling. You walked off on shaky legs, taking deep breaths. At least he hadn’t told you he didn’t want it.

~

Simon sat on his bed, his thumb brushed over the small flag patched into the corner of the blanket. The fact that you had made him a gift by hand had his stomach in knots. He knew about your little gift tradition with the rest of 141, but he hadn’t expected to be included, nor did he expected you’d go to such trouble. The two of you weren’t even very close.

He swallowed thickly as tears pricked his eyes. This was the nicest thing any teammate had ever given him.

He brought the fabric to his face and gave it a deep whiff. It smelled fresh, like laundry detergent. You must have washed it before you gave it to him.

Simon spread the blanket carefully over his cot, admiring how the fabric felt against his hands. It didn’t catch on his calloused fingers, and wasn’t too fluffy.

It was large too, as if you’d taken his massive size into account. He was certain he could easily caving himself in it. His bottom lip wobbled slightly, and it was an effort to hold his tears at bay.

That night, Simon slept soundly, wrapped in your carefully crafted gift, and you were the only thing on his mind.

AN: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Dating Simon "Ghost" Riley is like the song traveling soldier. That's it, end post