#Simon Riley x reader x Johnny Mactavish

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ghost, Ghost, Host

Part 1: A Cursed Purchase 

Transaction #60236 has been completed, shipping details will be sent to your email with instructions on pick up to follow 

With the tip of your finger you scrolled halfway to the bottom of the email. Your receipt was included to document what you’d bought from this lost packages website your friend used. While she had used it to buy expensive items for a fraction of the price, you were rather interested in books. 

It didn’t matter what state they were in, how old or how new they’d been. Your interest in books was mostly to fill the gaps on your bookshelf left by your roommate before she moved out. Of course part of you was curious about the stories that might have lied between the pages of this book box. There was no guarantee what you would find, how many books were even salvageable but that was par for the course. 

That was part of the risk, part of the fun to see what you got and how good they were. Of course in the description of the box was a generalized itemized list—a few of which contained diaries or journals. That had made you even more curious, your interest peaked to an indescribable level. 

The time between ordering the lost mail, receiving the confirmation and shipment was a matter of just over a week. Your shipping and delivery notice was sent to your email with the reminder that the postal service would only keep your items for so long before they would be sent back with an undelivered notice. It was standard practice of the mail service to put limits on how long they would hold items and yet you were more anxious about potentially missing this purchase than you were for others. 

It was a series of anxious tracks of mind that blurred your excitement into a state of tension. Regardless of your momentary yet blinding trainwreck thoughts over these packages, when the email had come and you were granted the ability to pick up your boxes, you hadn’t hesitated to go.  

You had free time thanks to finishing your tasks earlier than expected, and that had given you the freedom to go. They gave you little explanation however there was a note added to the delivery instructions we just want to get rid of them. It made you curious, it made you ponder what extras could be in the second box. 

Despite the eagerness that made you want to rip into the box immediately, you had loaded them into your vehicle after leaving the postal service. You slammed the trunk of your vehicle and walked around to the driver's side and jumped in to avoid the inevitable rain that was coming. With the claps of thunder rumbling in the darkening clouds, and the streaks of lightning that seemed to be closer than you'd like, it was a race. 

It would be a race to get home, a race to beat the torrential downpour that was coming, and a test of your patience not to rip into the box right now. Though the weather was momentarily on your side, you still hadn’t wasted much time parking and taking your boxes into your apartment. Regardless of having to take two trips to take the box of lost packages you still managed to get into your apartment before the rain. 

It was only after you’d started opening the first box that you'd heard a crash of thunder and the steak of lightning across the dark sky. Your attention had flitted from the open box of books and the first two that had been set on top, both generic and modern authors. You grabbed the books and set them aside, both by a popular adult author that catered to mysteries, and then you had moved on. Book after book was removed from the box until you had gotten nearly to the bottom, where a set of journals had laid there. 

Your attention was piqued, and you’d almost entirely forgot about the second box in favour of the three journals in your possession. The first of three journals that had been laying against the bottom of the box was leather bound and stained with splotches of mud or oil that wouldn’t come out of the cover. Despite the stains on the cover, as soon as you had opened the cover it was apparent that the inside of the journal was still in good shape. 

JSM were the initials that had been written in ink on the first page under the cover, with a detailed drawing of the Scottish flag in the center. You had surmised that the flag and initials would both more than likely be significant to whoever had owned the journals when they were lost. Curiosity had grown and you'd set the first journal down to grab the other two, both of which were in the same state. 

“JSM and a Scottish flag.” You hummed under your breath and grabbed the journals before you picked yourself up off the floor. You moved from where the boxes were positioned near your old coffee table to the couch. You sat down against the second hand piece of furniture and leaned against the armrest on the left. As you began reading the first page of the first journal you had chosen first, a loud clap of thunder had resounded followed by the flash of lightning as it descended upon the city. 

For a moment you had turned your head to look out the window of your apartment, eyebrows furrowing as a torrential downpour of rain had begun battering the city. It was expected and warranted given the perfect conditions to form a storm like this. And while it was hard for you to keep your eyes off the destructive yet peaceful nature of the thunderstorm, you had wanted to deep dive into the journals. There was a kind of excitement over receiving journals from someone that fed into nosiness. 

“So, you were a soldier...” You mumbled under your breath, coming to the quick conclusion when you’d gotten to the second half of the second page. The first part that you'd read about so far, a description of the kind of city they were in, and the heat that he couldn’t escape. As the words went on, he had talked about his work as a special services soldier which you'd mentally reminded yourself to try and research later. 

It felt like hours that you’d been sitting on the couch reading this journal that you’d recently bought, and within the pages you’d come across names that had just made you more curious than anything. Captain Price and Gaz, two names that had been repeated a lot, had given your curiosity more than you’d imagined. And yet that was nothing compared to the person this soldier had called Ghost. Although whoever the JSM was had drawn sketches of landmarks and maps, small doodles here and there, you hadn’t come across a sketch of Ghost like you'd been hoping for. 

“...sergeant...” As thunder crashed outside, and lightning lit up the room, a voice had echoed in your ear as if someone was sitting next to you. The sound was muffled and not quiet audibly, almost like a whisper on the wind. 

The book had fell from your hands to your lap as your body reacted with a surge of fear and apprehension. You turned your head and looked at the space around you, surely trying to tell yourself that it was your brain playing tricks on you. Had you lost your mind? Have you completely lost it or were you just tired? 

Deciding to ultimately brush it off was the best course of action, and you’d closed the journal and set it to the side with the others. As thunder crashed again, you move quickly toward your bathroom with your phone in hand. After stepping inside and closing the door behind you, another loud boom of thunder seemed to rattle the windows with the force. Your gaze swept across the mirror before darting to the lights hanging above you, your narrowed eyes taking in the state of the flickering lights before the room was cast into darkness. 

You cursed under your breath and fiddled with your phone to turn on the flashlight. As the light was cast upon the mirror in front of you, a startled and sharp scream was ripped from your mouth. 

Standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror was a man wearing a tan tactical vest with a UK flag attached to the front. Beneath the tactical vest was a dark blue shirt that looked as if it was stained with blood near his right shoulder, and a set of thick black gloves on his hands. His hair was cropped into a mohawk style with the sides cut short, however it was his eyes that had still been the most frightening stimulus of this thing’s appearance. 

“What the fuck?!” Your fearful scream had turned to a curse, and the phone in your hand slipped from your grasp clattering to the ground. You immediately dropped to the floor to grab it, your fingers wrapping around the sides as you lifted it and then clutched it to your chest. With a sense of frantic panic, you aimed the flashlight toward the space where the man had been and found the space empty. 

You didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified, and any opportunity to react further about the state of your mental wellbeing was completely undone when he appeared again just as the lights come on. 

“Are ya done screaming?” His voice was stronger now, crystal clear and crisp.

Tag list: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl

[heavenbarnes]

dear god please I’m begging you on my hands and knees for more ghost soap reader action, you do it so right. I’m feral

“you do it so right” is a crazy compliment you’re going to make me AHHH 🫶🏼 (this is afab!reader btw just no pronouns)

simon knows his friend has a crush on you, didn’t have to be a fuckin’ psychic to work that one out.

it was written all over his fucking face from the moment he met you, still there when you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock.

“oh L.T, that’s fuckin’ nice”

you ignored the fact that, whilst you were the one with johnny’s cock in your throat, it was your boyfriend he’d chosen to speak to. you ignored it because you knew if you thought about it too long, you wouldn’t be lasting.

simon was practicing his patience on the other end of the couch, large hands gripping his thighs so he wouldn’t rip you off your knees and place you straight in his lap.

he was practicing generosity.

johnny had been whinging his ear off about how long it’d been since he’d had a good shag and he’d got a little too bold talking about how good L.T must have it at home.

“bet ye’ open the door and yer’ one s’already fuckin’ kneeling”

“that the first thing ye’ do when you get home? empty a couple loads?”

“gaggin’ for it with you, L.T- i bet”

simon had had enough, mainly because johnny was absolutely correct and he needed to go home and deal with it- but also because it was doing his head in.

the man had enough dirty thoughts about you to power the fuckin’ atom bomb and simon thought it might be worth putting it to work. there was gains to be made on multiple fronts.

johnny had one arm along the back of the couch and the other was at your face, fingers softly stroking your cheek as you made the most deplorable sounds.

somehow, you could make choking on cock a bit cute.

it wasn’t lost on simon the way your back was arching as you forced more of his friend into your mouth, your ass shaking a little bit as you stuck it out.

an invitation.

simon was practicing generosity but that didn’t mean he had to practice total altruism. there were gains to be made on all fronts.

so whilst you were knelt with your palms flat on johnny’s thighs, his hands coaxing your head in a rhythm, simon was on his knees behind you with your trousers around your knees.

two thick fingers took one long drag up your slit, prodding at your entrance and making you jolt forward. the sudden motion had you gagging on johnny, his head tipping back with a thick moan ripping out of him.

part of being so quiet meant simon would never say it, but maybe if you asked him at just the right moment he could tell you that, to him? he had the best view in the house.

best view in the fucking world.

johnny looked the picture of ruin as your spit dribbled down the side of his cock, matting his trimmed pubes to his skin. you were rolling your hips back into simon’s hand, reaching back to spread yourself a little for him.

“patience,” strong hand cracking down on your ass cheek. “you’ll get what you deserve”

your mouth was full but johnny could’ve sworn he heard you mumble “yes, si” around him at the order (it very well could’ve been “yes, sir” he was undecided)

when he didn’t think his evening could possibly get better, johnny felt a moan leave your chest and absolutely choke him up. his eyes flew open and he was met with a sight.

your eyes, squeezed shut and spit fucking flying out the corners of your mouth. simon- L.T on his fucking knees with his mouth buried in your cunt.

he thought he might die.

all the blood that wasn’t currently keeping johnny hard went straight to that spot and soon his head was spinning, resorting to closing his own eyes so he’d be able to make it through the night.

simon ate your pussy like a man possessed, two hands spreading your cheeks and tongue forcing its way into your entrance. pulling back only to spit on your clit before he dove back in.

giving it enough time and focusing on the sweet motions of your mouth, johnny figured it safe to reopen his eyes and take a another glimpse.

fucking silly move.

knelt before him was his L.T handling the biggest cock johnny thinks he’s ever seen this side of the internet, and he’s bullying it inside of your tight cunt.

johnny swears he didn’t mean to moan, it just slipped out the minute simon started to speak.

“hold tight, johnny- this one’s about to sing”

[angel-bugz]

Lazy, tired writing today bc I need to write something... life is hectic for me recently...

Overworked!Reader who, on the rare occasion, is asleep by the time the boys return from deployment. More often than not will you be able to hold out for long enough and stay awake to welcome the two back home - to eat together, and to all crawl to bed.

This time, the space is quiet as they enter the front door. Too quiet. Simon is yet to hear your soft footsteps padding down the hallway and Soap can just barely smell the remnants of a home cooked meal. They know instantly, that it's been one of those days. They soften at the mere thought of you in bed, cozy and warm. One shushes the other and they quietly set down their belongings, taking off their shoes with a caution similar to that of a recon mission. Hushed reminders to each other to 'be quiet'. Entering the bedroom, peeling off their most of their clothes in silence. The need to eat and shower forgotten about when they slide under the covers - one on either side of you.

In your sleeping state, your body knowingly melts in between theirs. Simon's arm wraps around your middle and Johnny's over your shoulder. All six legs tangled together. Perfect. Sleep and sound.

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[d-emeter]

Teamwork makes the dream work — plus-size!fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

CW: oral (male and female receiving), a little exhibitionism?

Johnny and you who team up to give Simon the best birthday of his life — the ones in his childhood did not make for good memories, and you two were set on changing that. A cake with attempted hearts and a 'happy birthday' in shaky writing, decorations everywhere and gifts that were put together with all the love and care in the world.

Simon and you who team up to make Johnny the best home-cooked he's tasted since he left Scotland. You both know he misses it sometimes, even if he keeps it well hidden. But you've facetimed his ma, asked her for all her recipes and before you know it, the table is filled with what can only be described as a buffet of Johnny's favourite foods. You've also invited the rest of the squad over so Johnny can finally show off his culture like he always wants to.

Simon and Johnny who team up to support you while you're studying. Simon's providing snacks, getting you anything and everything you're craving because he insists you need brainfood. He'll feed you, too, so you don't disturb your focus. Johnny lets you teach him things (he says it's one of the best ways to learn) and will then quiz you on them after. You're getting a kiss for every right answer, of course.

—

Johnny and you who team up to get Simon to relax properly, it's his birthday after all. After the mandatory awkward singing and the blowing out of candles, there's something else that needs blowing. Johnny somehow wrestled Simon into sitting back on the couch, after which you and Johnny sink to your knees to make out around his cock. His game is on, slice of cake in one hand and a beer in the other, and his loves kneeling for him — best birthday ever.

Simon and you who team up to fluster Johnny beyond belief. He tries not to react when your foot brushes his leg, though he falters a little in his story about his childhood to Price. He chokes on his scotch pie when Simon's hand finds its way to just below his crotch, and now has to play it off because Gaz is giving him a funny look. When a bit of whipped cream 'falls' from your spoon and onto your cleavage, Johnny's knee jerks against the table. Not two seconds after everyone is ushered out the door, Johnny's on his back on the table, his dick in your mouth while Simon has his in Johnny's.

Simon and Johnny who team up to fuck their smart girl stupid. They coo at you, telling you you've worked so hard, you deserve a treat. Dragged from your spot behind your laptop and onto Simon's lap. Look at that, their smart little slut, going dumb on Simon's cock while Johnny's lapping at her clit. They'll make you recite everything you've learned, though. Gotta make sure it stuck, sweets.

[random0lover]

Okay so I’m working on the fluff ending for this fic and I’m trying to decide on what I want to do. I kinda had an idea involving Johnny (soap).

This part would be set some time in the future maybe like 5 or six years and you had all retired from the task force? You opened your coffee shop and Simon opened his pub and Johnny ended becoming part of it to. Anyways Johnny had a daughter with some chic that took off and she’s about 4 years old now and you and Simon have been helping him take care of her this whole time. This obviously leads to all of you spending a lot of time together and it’s kinda become a non-established relationship between the three of you.

(Something to point out- they all love each other in the 1st option. Meaning it’s also ghost x soap x reader. Just Simon and reader were together first.)

The whole fic wouldn’t be about you all falling in love, if anything it would be a background thing. I just wanted to add more depth to it. Or I can just make it about you and Simon … Johnny would kinda just be around and would probably still have the daughter just nothing is going on between you three. Third option is to get rid of Johnny completely and just focus on you and Simon.

Honestly just ignore the last one… I really want Johnny to be part of this in some way

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[imaginedreamwrite]

The first part (prologue maybe depending on the length) will be posted tomorrow! (Ghost, Ghost, Host like duck, duck goose)

[shotmrmiller]

god going on a date with johnny whom you matched on tinder and he's the type of guy you avoid like the plague; jaw-dropping good looks, cheeky ㅤㅤsmiles, hits the gym more in a week than you've done all year and worst of all, could charm the pants off a snake.

so it's truly no wonder that you end up letting him bury his face between your thighs and lap at your glistening sex until your moans almost turn into screams and you haven't even left the bar's driveway, then left to watch johnny wipe the condensation off the windshield with a spare shirt so he can drive you home all the while his chin drips with your slick.

he fucks you against the front door once inside, legs hooked over his arms, then again over your couch, hand curled around your throat, and again, in front of your full length mirror while he tells you how pretty you look taking all of him, to look at how pretty you look, his crystalline eyes latching onto yours through the reflection, pretty as a peach.

then he leaves you with his spend sticking your thighs together, a languid kiss that tastes of you, and with his personal number on a scrap piece of paper.

and that's the last you hear of him. he'd said that he's quite a busy man, military and whatnot, and all in all, while you'd raked your nails down his back on the first date, it had been a date. you require more than good sex to get into a committed relationship.

a swipe of your thumb brings up tinder again, and you match with another bloke not your type. big, broad man, biceps the size of your thighs with a deadpan stare that sees right through false bravado. but he's doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he makes you nervous, doesn't care that you stutter out responses to his rather abnormal questions.

simon takes you home and sits eerily silent with his hands dwarfing the steering wheel as you chew on your lip before tentatively inviting him in for a nightcap, and you must be the luckiest person on the planet because he's just as devoted to your pleasure as your last partner.

he brings you peak after peak with his tongue, his fingers, swirls your pearl with the tip of his misaligned nose. then he lets you be on top first, concentration knitting your brows togethee as you try to fit all of him in and pride warms your cheeks when you can hear his teeth audibly grind as his fingers bite into the soft of your waist once you take him to the root, thighs flush against his hips.

you come undone more times than you can count, the neighbors more than likely knowing his name by the time he walks out the front door (after checking the locks on your windows) and that's that.

until it isn't because a text from johnny awakens your phone screen, an invite to a restaurant downtown next saturday, one you've only ever fancied of eating at and well-

a date is a date, isn't it?

you tell him to pick you up at seven and he tells you to wear something you wouldn't mind letting him keep underneath, preferably something in red. (must've seen that particular number while you looked for some sleeping shorts before he left that night.)

hopefully you won't feel too bad breaking things off with whoever doesn't ask you to be theirs first.

(simon and johnny fuck each other to the thought of you back at base, simon's fist viciously tight around johnny's cock as he's got him drooling into the flattened pillow, almost like she's fucking you too, eh, johnny?)

[swordsandholly]

Been thinking about the 141 boys coming to visit your southern family…

Price ends up out back with your papaw and uncles staring at a riding mower that they haven’t been able to get back up and working. Beer in hand, hip cocked, mimicking their ‘uh-uh’s and ‘yep’s. He tries to help with grilling but your dad won’t let him anywhere near it because “damn brits can’t cook out to save their lives. I’ve seen what y’all eat.”

Ghost gets a little overwhelmed by the women fussing over him. He’s on his third plate of food and your mimi is still loading him up with more mac n cheese because “He’s just such a big boy - he really needs to fill up! Are you sure you’re feeding him enough?” Luckily Simon is a literal human vacuum - a total garbage disposal. He drinks about a pitcher of sweet tea by himself because you can’t tell me that man doesn’t have a deadly sweet tooth. You have to drive home after the food coma they put him in.

Gaz is the decided favorite son-in-law (never mind that you aren’t married yet.) He’s just so polite, happily helping wherever needed. Quick witted and more than prepared to participate in the small town gossip. Giving genuine, dramatic gasps at the news that the preachers son of your family’s rival church took a trip (went to prison). It just makes sense that boy always had a screw loose, after all. He picks up on the cooking easily enough, asking your mom for all her recipes to make both you and her a lovely custom cook book of family recipes.

Soap goes absolutely hog wild on the four wheelers with your cousins. Regaling the younger ones with stories of his ‘adventures’ (pranks on the other 141 members.) He picks up some of your slang for the fun of it. After all, sigogglin’ just works with a Scottish accent so well. Unfortunately he can’t handle the jalapeño corn bread - it’s just too spicy for the poor boy.

[luminni]

This is some shit Johnny would say, it just is I'm sorry.

Johnny hates your new boyfriend. It burns in his loins every time you come over and complain about something stupid the git said. So often that now when you take a particularly large sigh, he's immediately asking "fuckin' 'ell, what he do this time eh?"

It hurts even more when you gush about something "good" your boyfriend did, even when it's just the bare minimum. Yeah he open the door for you on a date? Did you know that Johnny would have lifted up the globe had you asked him? Do you have any idea the things he would do if you so much as asked? No you didn't, because he was fairly certain you only saw him as your good friend, as you had been for years.

And Jesus did it infuriate him when you "laughed" your boyfriend's pitiful excuses for a joke. It wasn't your real laughter, it was a kind of controlled giggle. Johnny knew a couple words from him could have you full on belly laughing, gripping onto the nearest surface (usually his arm) to steady yourself. The worst part of it was, the sorry excuse of a man that had wormed his way into your life looked so proud of himself when you gave that fake laugh. Johnny wanted to wipe that grin off his face so bad. But he behaved himself, for you...most of the time, but this is Johnny we're talking about, he's nothing if not petty.

He pretends to like your sorry excuse of a boyfriend in front of you so that you invite him on your dates because you hope they can be friends. Johnny just wants to ruin things

When you make food, Johnny is there. Reminding your boyfriend he would never be the first person to try your recipes.

"Added some pepper since las' time aye lass?"

He then proceeds to taste test form the same spoon as you, side eyeing your "man".

And when you do serve the food, he eats 10x more than he usually does which is saying a lot for him. Just has to mention how many calories he's been burning at the gym lately. Does your boyfriend work out? Oh he doesn't? Hm, interesting.

Also the king of flirty jokes but turns it to 100 when he's around your new boyfriend.

"Jesus, you eat like a horse"

"Aye 's not the only thing about me thas' like a horse"

All said with that shit eating grin he knows pisses your boyfriend off.

Johnny knows this "relationship" (he refuses to believe you actually like the tadger) isn't going to last long anyway. He's the only person who could ever make you truly happy. The only person you'd wait for at the airport every time he got back from deployment. The only person you'd text out of no where at 3am to tell him you were hungry. He just had to help you see it was all and scare off your pathetic partner. If he couldn't manage it, he knew a couple big scary guys that could follow him home at night.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Price, texting: Can you come collect your freak of a boyfriend please Price: He's doing things Y/N: No I set him loose on purpose Y/N: He needs enrichment

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll

[drgnflyteabox]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...