#Soap x female oc

[mykneeshurt]

Sparring Session - Soap x F!oc

Just a Soap Drabble. I love this trope and I’ve not written for the Scottish god himself yet.

This is a self insert (kinda) cause god damn it I want this to be me. Descriptors of moi in here. Female reader.

Warnings - descriptions of violence, knife play, implied smut (I think)

The requested part 2

‘Good to see you again love’ Price’s warm smile welcomed you into his office. Smiling back you met the Captain in a hug ‘So good to see you John! It’s been ages, the boys still giving you trouble?’

‘Like you wouldn’t believe’ he snorted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You and Price went way back, when you were an inexperienced rookie. He felt so proud watching you blossom into the cut throat special forces op you were today. ‘Ready?’ He asked releasing you from his grip guiding you to the door with his arm. ‘Absolutely’ you smirked.

‘Lads, this is Raven. She’s come over from Alpha team to help out on our next mission. She’s an expert in close combat, so, she’s come to join your sparring session.’ Gaz, Soap and Ghost all immediately stopped what they were doing and looked over towards you and Price. ‘Riley’ you nodded, offering him a warm smile, ‘you’ve not changed one bit.’

Soap whipped his head around so fast his neck could have snapped. ‘You know her?’ He asked quietly. Ghost met his gaze in the corner of his eye and let out a grunt. ‘Raven.’

‘Oh come on Riley! You can’t still be holding a grudge against me?’ You laughed hiding your smile with your hand. Soap furrowed his brows, so you two had history. Like a dog with a bone he piped up, ‘what? Lt? What’s she talking about?’

Ghost remained stoic and silent, regarding you from across the mats. Stifling a giggle you explained that you and Ghost had trained together, worked on a fair few missions together which went exceedingly well. But you were the only person currently recruited that was able to put Ghost on his ass, in front of everyone. ‘Get tae fuck?!’ Soap burst out, ‘Lt? She floored you?’

‘Yeah I did. He looked magnificent underneath me, didn’t you Riley?’ He rolled his eyes and visibly tensed up, feeling sorry for him you sauntered over and punched his bicep. ‘I’m joking Riley. But you need to let it go, I won fair and square.’

Huffing he shook his head ‘it’s good to see you too.’ His shoulders relaxed and he appeared to adjust to your presence once again. ‘Right, Gaz, Raven, you’re up first’ Price ordered. Stepping barefoot onto the mat you and Gaz circled each other like vultures circling prey. Eagerly waiting for someone to make the first move, Gaz lunged forward arm already extended which you grabbed pulled him off balance. Gaz fell to his knees and within seconds you had your knife against his throat. ‘Predictable’ you tutted.

With your knife against his throat you flashed you eyes up to Soaps. He was already staring completely infatuated with what he saw before him. Removing your knife you placed it back in its holster and helped Gaz up. ‘Again’ you commanded. Shaking himself off Gaz once again tried to lunge for you but lower this time, being wary of where his stance was. You dodged and jumped on his back about the pull the knife again, Gaz quickly pulled you over his shoulder before you were able grip his waist with your thighs. Landing with a full thump on the floor Gaz tried to get the upper hand, but being as quick as you were the knife was already back at his jaw. The tip of the knife pressed into the fleshy underside of his chin. ‘Fuck sake’ he sighed.

You patted his cheek grinning at him ‘better, but you need to be quicker.’ Gaz got up before holding out a hand for you which your graciously accepted. Price laughed in the corner knowing exactly what you were like. ‘Soap, next.’

Feeling like a child at Christmas he stepped onto the mat, and flicked a brief glance over at Ghost who rolled his eyes. ‘Ready?’ You asked, tightening your ponytail. He nodded. He flew at you ready to land a punch but you managed to block it and landed a kick into his ribs. He came at you again, calculated punches and impressive footwork. Still managing to block them you threw a foot out to kick him again, but this time he caught it. A huff of surprise left your lips at you twisted your body and threw your other foot into his stomach. This caught him off guard and winded him briefly. Taking this chance you got in close to avoid anymore punches and took out the backs of his knees.

He fell to the floor but managed to grip your waist and threw you under him. Seeing you go for your knife he grabbed your wrists and put them above your head. Nothing you couldn’t get out of, but seeing him squirm was too much fun. ‘Ooo down boy’ you smirked ‘isn’t this position reserved for the bedroom?’ He visibly stiffened, not quite sure how to take your comment. He slid his knee in between your thighs until it was resting just beneath your cunt. ‘Only if you want it hen’ he hissed back. Ever so subtly you let your hips move a fraction to grind on his thigh letting your eyes flutter shut.

He watched as your chest raised and lowered, lulling him into a trance. Your pulse on your neck clearly evident as it danced along your milky white skin. You bit your lip ‘don’t tempt me with a good time.’ Feeling his grip loosen slightly you pulled your wrists free as you arched your back, pushing your hips up throwing him off balance. As you did this you used your muscular thighs to push him sideways before you straddled his hips. Knife at the ready you pinned one of his muscular arms down over his head and traced your knife along his neck. You could feel how hard he was getting against you. Leaning into his ear you nipped at the lobe and whispered ‘you look so good underneath me Johnny.’

Sitting up you rolled off him completely brushing off what you’d just said him. ‘That was good Soap, again? Don’t lose focus.’ You barked. Soap got to his feet trying desperately to hide the semi now adorning his gym shorts. Luckily they were baggy enough to hide how much he wanted you. You began circling each other, a shit eating grin all over your face. Soap this time went for the element of surprise, he rugby tackled you to the floor. Causing you to drop the knife and land on your side. Before you could counter attack him he was on you, pushing you in the the floor in a prone position. He held your wrists behind your back and this time held your knife to your neck.

‘Fuckin’ naughty you are’ he muttered under his breath. Using your nails you pinched his skin causing him to flinch loosening his grip. With your arms now free you grabbed his Mohawk and pulled him closer to your face ‘yeah? What are you gonna do about it?’ He let out a whimper in your ear, you were teasing him. Your breathless question had him conjuring up imagines in his head of bending you over a desk and fucking you from behind. Winding his hand in your long black ponytail as he thrust deeply into your wet cunt. Feeling his erection growing further as he pressed against you, you moaned his name. It was barely above a whisper but it was enough for him to completely forget what he was doing.

Throwing an elbow into his ribs he fell to the side, once again you managed to get your knife and hold it to his throat. ‘Mmm good boy’ you drawled. He couldn’t take any more, he looked around questioning if anyone else was hearing this? Evidently they weren’t. Price was muttering to Ghost about the up coming mission while watching you both. Gaz was rubbing his chin where the knife tip had prodded him. You were in your own bubble on the mat.

Running your tongue along your teeth you smiled, a filthy, come fuck me smile. He stared up at your bluey green eyes, which contrasted perfectly against your porcelain complexion and black hair. His mouth fell open, laboured breaths escaped him as he tried to ground himself from what ever spell you’d cast on him. ‘Fuckin hell’ he muttered to himself as you climbed off and got to your feet. He propped himself up on his elbows and watched your hips swing as you walked over to Price.

‘This was fun. I’ll spare you the embarrassment Riley, same time tomorrow?’ you laughed.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

There's a reason why Cross and Swan don't get along

Content Warnings - Argument, violence, military inaccuracies, Oc stuff.

The OC list.

Cross and Swan glared at each other from across the meeting room. The already tense atmosphere became thick enough to cut. Tired yet blazing green eyes met confident, bordering on cocky, blue. "Firecracker." Swan says, his boston accent already grating on Cross' ears

"Its Winnie or Cross." She states and levels another glare which only makes Swan smile more.

Soap and Gaz share a look at the interaction. Cross or Winnie, could be a bit snippy at times. That wasn't a secret at all but it came from a place of care, of concern. "So I take it you've guys met before."

"Yes."

"Unfortunately."

Soap sucks in a breath and Gaz's eyebrows might as well shoot through the ceiling. "Cross I'm asking you to be civil." Price finally sighs from where he stands. Watching his mature sniper/combat medic turn into a street cat ready to claw a mans eye's out.

"I'm bein' civil." She practically growls it, Irish accent growing thick through anger. Swan raises his hands in mock surrender.

"Water under the bridge?" Price suggests, "Move on like adults?" Cross snorts and Swan rolls his eyes but nothing more is said between the two of them. Oh but if looks could kill.

"Steamin' Jesus." Soap mutters to Gaz as they walk out of the meeting room as quickly as possible. Even Ghost isn't that far behind.

"What was all that about?" Gaz asks Ghost and he just shrugs.

"Bad blood." Ghost suggests like its the most obvious thing in the world. Soap was about to ask what in the world could cause bad blood when the image of Phillip Graves, still alive and well somehow, appears in his mind. Yeah, okay, he can see that.

Soap is bouncing his foot as he waits for Cross to finish her check up, "So, you and Swan huh?"

"Oh don't get me started on that motherfucking rat bastard." Cross snarls but to her credit, she keeps her touch gentle. For now at least.

"Asshole shows up like he owns the fucking place-" Apparently Soap had already broken the dam. "Acts like he doesn't owe me an apology for his actions, offers to buy me a drink. A drink!"

"Cross." Soap says, "Cross." He repeats, a little firmer this time. "Lassie!" Cross snaps her attention back to Soap. "What is this even all about?"

Cross glowers for a bit, grumbling to herself before deciding to give the details. "Swan is a self-sacrificing douchebag who doesn't know when to back down or wait for reinforcements." There's a pause and Cross takes a deep breath.

"Oh my fucking god." Cross muttered to herself before she launched herself to tackle Swan into the next room. She couldn't really recall the moments that lead up to this. Whatever this is. Which is best described as a fucked situation. Swan groaned as he landed on the floor, the wound on his thigh and shoulder sending pain right up his brain. Cross looked at her pistol, no ammo. She cursed further under her breath as she grabbed the combat knife she never really used.

She was a sniper. A combat medic. She wasn't meant for these situations. Still, she pulled Swan into the furthest corner of the room all while she gave her location to reinforcements she had called for earlier right after their commander had been shot by sniper.

Cross put herself between the door, where enemy combatants were sure to funnel in through, and Swan. "When we get out of here alive, and I swear to God we will, I'm going to kick your ass all the way into the clinic." Cross swore and Swan just groaned, his head leaned back against the concrete wall as he tried to keep himself from bleeding more.

"So yeah. That's how I ended up with these." Cross motions to the scar on her face and on her palm.

"So you don't like him because he led to your scars."

"Jesus Christ Soap, do you ever listen?"

"I'm just fucking with you. Yeah. I get it now."

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Old Man!John Price | Soap's Girl!You. 

Description: Johnny gets too reckless on a mission this time around and gets booted off the team. Now only you can convince the Captain to revoke his decision.

Warning(s): Noncon, dubcon, naive!reader, corruption kink, groping, coercion, dacryphilia, dark!Captain Price, dark!Soap, size kink, fear kink, fingering, forced kissing, misogyny, infantilization, sir kink, handjob, they're unsavoury men. Minors do not interact.

“Go on, baby” you feel a strong nudge on your shoulder from behind, causing for your smaller form to go tumbling forwards and face first into the ominous door in front of you. “Oh, shit. I–” Johnny whips you towards him to hurriedly get a look at you before examining you and rubbing the tip of your nose where he thinks you got hurt. “I am sorry, baby. But it's okay. I promise it'll be fine. But you have to be strong for me, okay?” The beads glimmering in your eyes sting them just a bit more and your bottom lip wobbles at the mention of the horrendous prospect. “Go on, the Captain is a nice man. Just show him some of that sweet love of yours and he will be good to us” before you can attempt to plead for him to reconsider, you have been pushed into the room and forced to come face to face with none other than the man you dread the most in this world right now.  The door clicks shut behind you. 

John Price's gaze feels nearly scrutinizing as you nibble on your bottom lip while trembling in your frilly little dress, the tips of your fingers folded over the extremely high hem that you try to extend by pulling at it but in vain. Silence pervades the scene for you have no idea how long before the man finally speaks. 

“Well, love, come on over here, then.” Your heart drops as the little bit of hope you were desperately clinging on to extinguishes. Johnny was Johnny and you had signed up for the kind of man he was when you decided to stay with him despite his flaws but from a man of Price's station you expected something else. 

Something better. 

Johnny got too reckless this time around and got booted off the team by the Captain. Since he never tells you work related stuff -like he ever tells you anything serious at all- because ‘those’ ugly things aren't for little girls like you to know, you have no idea what exactly happened but it turned out that though you were too simple minded to know what happened, you weren't too small to be pimped out to your boyfriend's boss like this. 

Since you have tried to get Johnny to reconsider this every time you possibly could ever since he told you you were going to be doing this for him like a good girl supports her man and his colleagues have always terrified you because of how capable they are for any and all kinds of destruction, you hiss in a hiccup and let your wobbly steps carry you to the old man. 

Price is sitting in a big office chair behind a heavy wooden table, mighty and intimidating yet agreeable with his smile that is almost kind. You would have believed it like the impressionable fool you are if it weren't for the clouds of darkness that are threatening to burst out of his eyes, the light orbs looking you up and down everywhere except for your eyes with a chilling hunger. 

It is after your dignity is wholly mortified and you decide you cannot feel any more shame than this does he pat his lap as a silent gesture for you. 

“Hey, hey, hey, little thing” the material of his uniform is harsh under the exposed skin of your ass when you sit down, the sensation causing you to have a moment of realization all over again and a tear threatens to spill down your cheek but you catch it just in time. “It's okay, we are all friends here, angel. No need to cry, it's okay” you are tense and uncomfortable as you try to shrink in on yourself but one of his rough hands wrapping against the curve of your hip to push you into his hard chest doesn't help. The stiff tent in his pants touches you next and you cannot help but flinch as a hushed cry tries to crawl its way out of your throat. 

Unbeknownst to you, it only works up the man even more and he speaks to you in the most comforting of tones. “I get it, you're scared of the big Captain, aren't you, love? Never had much of an interaction, you and I, did we?” You barely understand him as you're too focused on trying to keep your tears at bay like Johnny ordered you to. No crying and no pleading. That was the rule if you wanted your man to keep his job. And you were a good girl and future wife. So you would do whatever it took. 

“I know what we need to do” your hands that helplessly lie clasped in your own lap clench and twitch when he suddenly kneads your skin where he is holding your hip. “Easy now” he warns when your legs defensively try to force you to stand and your body freezes before you even register his words. Price sighs unhappily. “I was told you were okay with this. I don't like my girls unwilling and unappreciative. You can go” your eyes widen in horror as everything Johnny had warned you against plays in your head at full volume and you go into a panic, shaking your head vehemently and trying to reassure him in as much voice as you could muster, desperately trying to convince him that you wanted this. 

Price ‘contemplates’ you for a couple moments and the suspense is enough to send you into a cardiac arrest because of how erratic it makes your heart. But then;

“Yeah? Are you sure?” You timidly nod. “Then what're those tears for?” The side of his mouth quirks up when you quickly wipe them away and shake your head wordlessly. “... No? Not scared…?” He talks to you like one would a child and your cheeks burn even hotter in humiliation. 

“A- A little…” You manage to squeak out as a measure of carefulness because he appears a bit dissatisfied with your response. 

Johnny's words ring in your head. Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what.  

And your response seems to do the trick for he faintly smiles, a bit proudly even. “A little, huh?” You timidly nod again. 

“Y- Yes, sir…” His eyes visibly darken at that. 

“You see” his fingers caress your hip gently. “I've got just the solution for it” you can barely see his face due to the haze of your thick tears burning your eyes. “Want to know what it is?” You have no choice. 

So you nod in agreement. “Y- Yes, sir…” You feel a brief twitch in the lap he has you perched on.

“There's a good girl” praise doesn't make you feel better, for once. “Well, you see, love. It's rather simple, really” his rough hand cups your face briefly to wipe at your tears and a shiver runs down your spine due to the stark difference between his meticulous touch and Johnny's reckless one. That, however, is not to say his is better. There is a lingering quality to it. A sickening coarseness. A dark manliness which contrasts the good natured boyishness of your lover's, however clumsy he may be. “We just need to familiarize ourselves to each other” your bottom lip wobbles involuntarily and his eyes flicker to it. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. “Want to know how we are going to do that?” 

“... Y- Yes, Captain” you don't notice it but it causes for the tent in his pants to become even more visible.

“Bring that little thing here” you tremble as he takes your smaller hand in his much bigger one and takes it to his beard, the sensory shock of his coarse hairs digging into your pampered fingertips making you gasp with a flinch. Price's chest reverberates in silent mirth. “Just like that, love. Easy does it” you let him guide you as you meekly scratch the thick scruff, your nails nearly disappearing in the dark mass. “There now, all better, isn't it?” You try to return his smile but you can literally feel the awkward shape in which your lips are twisted due to how uncomfortable you are. 

Next he nudges your hand closer to his mustache and the second you do it, one of his heavy hands clamp on the bumps of your chest and you audibly flinch. But before you can even attempt to move away, the hand he has on your hip steels itself into your skin. But his friendly behavior doesn't change. Not on the surface, at least. 

“See? This is why we need to do this” a tear finally outweighs your eyesocket's bearing capacity and pushes its way down your lashes and all the way to your chin. His grip almost makes you cringe away and the way he gently kneads your boob doesn't do anything for you. “So when we are familiarized, you won't be so scared of your Captain and we can have a good time like friends do” and you have no choice but to sit there and scratch his beard and stroke his mustache while he ‘gently’ feels you up.

“Hmm…” He muses after a couple long horrible moments have passed. “What about a little kiss, angel?” Your eyes widen and your body trembles. Oh no. Johnny is the only man you ever want to kiss. This is so wrong. “Come here” you try to stiffen your back and go to plant a firm hand on his chest but your boyfriend's cautionary words ring in your ears again. 

His chance, his career... 

You cannot fuck this up for him. 

No.

Good girls support their men.

“Yes, Cap–” you force yourself to not retch when his lips touch yours, the bristles of his mustache causing you to jerk your head back as your eyes crinkle shut, the back of your hand slapping against your lips to swipe at them the moment he pulls away to get rid of the ticklish sensation. 

Price's huge form vibrates again. “Not used to a real man kissing you, are ya, angel?” You gulp at how intimidatingly deep his voice sounds. 

“N- No, sir…” So he beckons you closer again. So you can familiarize yourself with it. Your eyes lower in shame and disgust as you cup one side of his face, feeling a waterfall erupt from the corner of your eyes as you peck his lips over and over since he keeps ordering you with low, ‘one more, one more, one more…’s

It is not that he tastes bad. In fact, he tastes much better than you expected -if you ever even thought about it in your wildest of moments- any man other than Johnny to taste. Dare you say… better than your lover, even.

But you have only ever had eyes for your boyfriend. 

And this is sickening, terrible, revolting…

But you don't have a choice. You must be good. You must obey. Must support. Johnny is also human. And he made a mistake. That shouldn't cost him his career. It's almost unbelievable how this kind looking man is capable of such cruelty. 

In a matter of minutes, the length of your neck has been felt up in his strong fist, the pink lace strings which held your dress on your shoulders have been slid off, the swells of your chest has been fished out of the neckline of your dress and thoroughly groped, the hem has been pushed all the way up to your waist, your legs have been pushed apart, your underwear rests on your ankles and Price's hand is knuckles deep between your slick coated thighs. 

“C- Captain!” You let out a choked out cry as you tremble, violated and stuffed full of his fingers. “P- Please!” Your back arches as you clutch his knee for support, sparks of pleasure overwhelming your pussy when the rough pad of his thumb finds your clit before swiping against it slowly while two of his fingers squish their way in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Please what, love?” Price is breathless as he grunts in pleasure. 

You sob from the sensitivity and helplessness of your situation. “M- More, please!” You don't want this. But he has you so worked up you cannot think of anything else anymore. It feels too good. You must cum. There is no other way. 

Price hums deeply. “Keep working that pretty little hand and I'll give you all that you need, angel” you obediently nod as you desperately speed up your fist that is wrapped around his hard cock. “I didn't think a thing as small as you could make a mess this big, love. But look at you” his pants are drenched in your juices and sweat. “Leaking yourself stupid for your Captain” you shamelessly moan out loud, albeit against your will, when you feel his middle finger graze against your g-spot. 

“S- Sir!” More hot pearls of precum bubble out of the apex of his swollen tip and trickle down to meet your curled fingers, aiding the movement of your hand.

“Tell me, angel, has he ever made you feel like your Captain is?” You realized it a while ago that Price does not care if Johnny can hear you. Hell, sometimes he speaks so loud -like right now- it feels as if the older man wants him to. 

You shake your head, crazed with need and lust. “N- No, no sir he hasn't!” You tell yourself you're only following the orders you were given. 

Keep the Captain satisfied no matter what. 

“Aw, a girl as pretty as you deserves everything, angel. Why not?” It is the way his cock twitches in your fist can you tell this is getting him off. 

“S- Said– ah!” The tight band of your entrance tries to shut in on itself but his firm fingers roughly fucking in and out of you deny it its desire. 

You're so close. 

“Go on then, angel” you let the base of your palm linger on his ballsack to massage it and he grunts before mumbling out a praise. 

“Said s- sex is the g- girl's way of t- thanking her man for taking c- care of her and loving her, sir!” You repeat Johnny's words that he has told you since day one. “So she l- lets him do whatever he pleases like a good girl!” Price chuckles before clicking his tongue. 

“That little bastard told you that, did he?” You nod as you feel all your muscles pulling taut like they do sometimes when Johnny makes love to you nicely. “Tsk, tsk. That is no way to treat a sweetheart like yourself… Maybe you need someone better, huh? Someone older–”

“CAPTAIN!” Your vision fills with neon blots and a faint ringing dominates your hearing. The speed of your fist goes rather lax but his seed that bursts out soon after and seeps down his length to coat your fingers is a relief. Because the intensity of undeniably the best orgasm you have ever had has relaxed your muscles way too much for you to be coherent anymore. Your body collapses tiredly against his broad battle hardened chest and your gaze fixates on a spot on the floor, your cum covered hand lazily stroking him to milk him empty. 

“You like the idea that much?” Price snickers as he pulls you closer before burying his nose in your hair to breathe in your scent, his own back relaxing against the leather chair now. The man does nothing to pull his fingers out of you, his thumb still turtling along the width of your clit while his free hand strokes your bare ass. “Hm?”

“H- Huh?” You let out a puzzled sound, fucked too stupid to make sense of anything. 

“My, my, angel. Just what am I going to do with you, hm?”  

You're too exhausted to look up but your heart faintly jumps. 

He is not done with you?

[simonriley09]

Experienced!Johnny x Virgin!Reader.

Johnny always had eyes for you, no matter who you were with or what you were doing. Your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend was with you? his focus was only on you. You were simply just doing paperwork? he's watching. So when he woke up at night to the sounds of moaning and skin slapping noises coming from your room? he's creeping up to the door and peeking into the keyhole, Watching your boyfriend try to take your virginity but your moans are clearly faked... he's not even rubbing your clit... just a razor burn on your labia.

Your boyfriend didn't even last long.. just 10 minutes and he was walking to the door, leaving you there, cum filled and unsatisfied. Johnny hid as your boyfriend walked out before sneaking in your room. He crawled ontop of you and you froze, looking up at him. "Johnny...?" you whispered. "M'here love. Saw yr' boyfriend leave. Bet he didn't make you cum." He said quietly, staring into your eyes. "But we didn't-" "Shhh... i saw." "... No.. he didn't make me cum.. he only came in me and left." Johnny's hand slowly crept up your thigh, leaving goosebumps. His thumb dragged tight, slow circles on your clit making you squirm and whimper. His other hand unbuckles his belt, pulling it off before is jeans come off too, leaving him in just a shirt and boxers. "Gonna eat tis pretty pussy... yr' gonna cum on my face even if you don't want to, yea?" "But-" He cut you off. "No buts, just relax m'luv." He then layed down on his belly and put your legs over his shoulder, getting comfy before starting to lap at your pussy, getting it wet since your boyfriend didn't have the decency to make you wet. You gasp and paw at his mohawk, toes curling and heels digging into his lower back as he suckles on your clit.

You've never felt pleasure like this, the coil in your belly tightens incredibly fast before you can even warn him you're arching and shaking, letting out a loud squeal as you cum on his tongue. He pulls away before stripping his shirt and boxers off, his fat veiny cock slapping against his abs, leaving a small trail of pre-cum. "Johnny i can't take that! it's fucking huge!" "Y' can. And y' will." He slowly inserted the bulbous tip into your dripping cunt with a squelch, making you let out a soft gasp and clench. He hissed as you clenched, patting your thigh as if to tell you to loosen up. After a while of clenching you relaxed and let him slide the full thing in, he finally bottoms out and stays there for a few seconds before letting out a sharp, slow thrust, hitting your cervix slowly. you let out a soft whine, grabbing his sides as he slowly starts thrusting... it got a bit faster after a while, leaving you moaning uncontrollably. He kept thrusting into you when he suddenly pushed your knees to your chest, ramming his cock so deep into you that you throw your head back and scream out in pleasure, toes curling so hard you swear you can't feel them anymore. Johnny groans, drool coming down from his mouth onto his chin, dripping onto the bed while his brain goes to mush with how good your pussy feels. He's acting on instincts, like a dog in heat, just humping and ramming his cock into your pussy until he cums. You're practically on your 12th orgasm as he continues to ram his cock into your pussy, you've lost all feeling in your legs, they're just shaking and shaking with each thrust. Despite it being 45 minutes in... Johnny still hasn't cum. You squeal and scream in pleasure as his cock slips past your cervix and keeps thrusting straight into your womb, the bulbous head splitting you open on his veiny cock wider than ever. Your brain goes fuzzy as you get cock drunk on the feeling of him splitting you open over and over again. Your back and thighs are aching from the position but it feels so good. Your gushing with each thrust, squirt going everywhere but Johnny doesn't care, he's just humping his cock into the warm hole he has infront of him. Finally after what feels like forever, he finally blows his load straight into your hole, his hips stuttering and stopping after a while as he whimpers. He slowly pulls his softening cock out, watching your gaping hole leak cum and blood. He's panting, he finally lets go of your legs too, letting them fall next to him before he lays down behind you, pulling you into him so he's spooning you. His hand softly rubs circles on your tummy. "Stuffed full?" You nod, still panting as he snuggles his head into your nape, breathing in the faint scent of shampoo, skincare and pheromones you give off. He's now just kissing your nape softly, falling asleep with you. The next day let's just say.. he woke up n broke up with your boyfriend over text. <3

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Deity! 141 AU HCs

A/N: Just some ramblings about the 141 as deities in my poly AU

(18+ only)

Please comment and reblog!

Captain John Price

God of the East Woods, who is represented by winter. He is known for his leadership skills, analytical abilities, and good faith in his men.

As he is known for leadership skills, he is known as the god most worshiped by leaders who seek guidance in their ability to command others. He is also known for being the one sought out by outcasts who are looking for community. He’ll help you find your way, don’t you worry. You belong somewhere; we just have to find where.

Contrary to popular belief, John does not participate in assisting those who force their command over others. He believes in leading by example and earning the privilege of leadership.

 He is most closely associated with cold metal, with his altar decorated in winter wreaths, warm spices, and delicate metalwork.

Kyle Garrick

God of the North Woods, represented by Spring and water. He is courageous, knowledgeable in the social and environmental climate, and can foresee the cause and effects of many actions on the battlefield.

He is worshiped by those beginning new endeavors. As the youngest and newest god (which, how new can ancient beings really be?), myths range from his grand displays of courage to self-doubt. His stories paint imagery of humbleness and of an eager learner. To those seeking new starts, he is the perfect divine being to guide you to ask questions and be courageous in the midst of change.

Kyle, while known best for being the god of changes, is also the patron of mystics for his foreseeing abilities (and beauticians. He likes his skincare and pretty things). As the foreseeing one, he knows all the outcomes and can assist divination practitioners in seeking knowledge of the future.

Just because Kyle can help doesn’t mean he will. Many fortune-tellers have reported trickery and confusion trying to get answers from him. He likes his jokes and finds seeing humans guessing about the future amusing. Won’t they find out eventually?

 His altar is decorated with bowls of water representing spring rain and winds. As spring flowers bloom, they are also decorated upon his altar. The seed of each planted crop is represented on the altar as a blessing for a productive sowing season.

Johnny McTavish

The god of summer and of the southlands. McTavish is known for quick, fiery actions mirrored by a thunderstorm's quick turn or a wildfire's spark.

While he might have fiery emotions, the god is methodological in his delivery of quick actions. For this reason, if you need help finding passion, McTavish is the god for you. He is the patron of athletes and artisans who harness passion into practice and dedication to their craft.

The god of summer is precise! If you seek his help, be specific and think about what you need versus what you want. His help will come on his timing, but it’ll be exactly what you asked for. He finds it funny when mortals get upset by this. Usually, if he is going to be helpful to the mortals, it is on his terms and conditions, and you’ll know by a sudden splash of warmth on your skin or by the way events just so happen to align that it could only be the work of a god.

His altar is decorated with an always-lit candle. There are summer fruits in bowls and an icon of a thunderbolt descending from the sky to represent his passions.

The one they call “Ghost”

The god of the south and autumn season, mortals know the least about him. His mythology is sparse, usually featuring him as a supporting character in someone else’s myth (usually Johnny’s) with a dry sense of humor.

He is the god of the ground that is transitioning into hibernation, the god of intelligence, knowing when to take ground and when to give ground. He is the wisdom gained from remembering the bones and dust from whence you came. He is the patron of the elderly and wise, of those who understand the power of listening before speaking to the aged ideals that came before you.

Hidden by shadows of the unknown, protected by the bones of the dying, Ghost is not a death god, but he represents the bridge between mortals and the spiritual, helping those who are dying.

Ghost is not a god you call upon lightly. He will make you search your shadows, forcing you to gaze upon those fearsome things that hide in all mortal souls. If you ask to see the divine, he will show you it when you are ready. But it will not look pretty or neat or holy. It will be sacred in its raw, awesome terror, a power unleashed that mortals cannot grasp.

Ghost’s alter typically has a buck skull on it- the first buck killed of the season. Black and grey altar cloths are laid beneath the walnut bowls holding the nuts and acorns offered to the god.

Once upon a time, there were four gods. Together, they took turns helping the mortals. But what spirit connects them all, centering their efforts? Of what clear mission banner do they unite under? To whom is the focal point of life’s great mysteries? It had always been assumed human mortals as a collective to be that focal point. But the myths do not end with the death of the old. They continue and will grow with the next generations and generations next.

[ltash]

Pest Control 141

Taskforcexfemalereader

You were ready for anything—armed combat, hostile extractions, stealth missions. But what Ghost just called you for? Well, it wasn’t in the job description.

“Oi, get to the common area,” Ghost’s voice crackled through your comms. “We’ve got a... situation.”

You rush in, ready to face some unknown terror. Turns out, the "situation" is an eight-legged monstrosity clinging to the wall, looking like it’s planning world domination. Ghost is standing in the corner, arms crossed, keeping a good six-foot distance between him and the spider.

“You serious?” you say, trying not to laugh. “Ghost, the guy who can take down a platoon single-handed, is afraid of a little spider?”

“It’s not little. Look at the size of it!” Ghost says, nodding toward the creature. It’s huge. You’ll give him that. But still, the irony is too rich to ignore.

“Fine,” you sigh, grabbing a broom like a true warrior. “I’ll take care of it. Stay back, tough guy.”

You inch closer, broom in hand, ready for the mission. Ghost watches closely, clearly not trusting the spider to stay put. With the grace of a seasoned soldier, you raise the broom and swipe—only to miss entirely. Instead of falling to the floor, the spider launches itself… straight onto Ghost’s chest.

The next few seconds are pure chaos.

Ghost lets out a noise you’d never expect from him—half a growl, half a yelp. His hands flail as he tries to bat the spider away, but it’s too late. The thing is clinging to him like a special ops agent on a stealth mission.

“Get it off! Get it off me!” Ghost shouts, running around like he’s under enemy fire.

“Hold still!” you yell, trying to catch up to him with the broom.

“Hold still?!” Ghost snaps, dodging your first broom swing as you chase him around the room like a scene from a slapstick comedy.

In the middle of the commotion, Soap walks in, immediately bursting into laughter. “What the hell is going on in here?”

You barely glance at him, still in hot pursuit of Ghost. “Spider. On Ghost. Stand clear!”

“On Ghost?” Soap is doubled over now, laughing so hard he’s struggling to breathe.

Ghost is still running in circles, arms flailing. “For the love of—just hit it already!”

You aim another swing at Ghost’s chest, but he dodges, and the broom whacks him in the shoulder instead.

“That’s me, you bloody idiot!” he shouts.

“Stop moving, and I’ll hit the spider, not you!”

In one desperate move, Ghost trips over the couch, falls backward, and lands flat on the floor, the spider still crawling around like it owns him.

“Now’s your chance!” Soap shouts, cheering you on like it’s a championship match.

You raise the broom like a gladiator about to strike the final blow and bring it down. This time, you hit the target. The spider goes flying across the room, landing on the window with a satisfying *splat*.

Ghost lies on the floor, panting. “You hit me at least three times, you know that?”

“Yeah, but I got the spider, didn’t I?” you grin, offering a hand to help him up.

He swats it away, muttering, “I’d rather face a whole squad of enemies than deal with that thing again.”

Soap is practically on the floor laughing at this point, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, mate, this is the best day of my life. Ghost, scared of a little spider!”

Ghost pulls himself up, glaring at you both. “Say one more word about this, and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Soap wipes a tear away. “Noted. But I’m definitely telling Price.”

You shake your head, trying to contain your laughter as Ghost storms out. Mission accomplished, but you’ll never let him live this one down.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Female Doctor!Reader, Soap x Reader Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Y’all have asked and y’all have received. Enjoy! Let me know what you guys think, I always love to hear your thoughts! Reblogs are much appreciated! 😊💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst. This one might be a little sad and Ghost is a bit of an ass-jerk so be prepared.

As mentioned before, Ghost completely stays clear of your vicinity after stepping out of your office. It’s not that he hates you. He’s just slightly irritated. With himself? Or is it you and that pretty face of yours and your comforting voice and your goddamn politeness and your accent. To be honest, the whole team adores your accent. He can’t tell. Remind you, this is a man who has probably never been shown any affection or tenderness so don't expect him to fall for you on the spot. This man needs therapy, like a lot of therapy. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go through whatever it is he is feeling, finding the whole thing to be an inconvenience really. And because he doesn't know how to understand or face whatever these emotions are, he just buries it. It's easier for him that way.

Poor dude couldn’t even sleep last night, staring at the ceiling of his room and haunted by the idea that he accidentally offended you. This man may have a cold exterior but your scalpels are colder and sharper than the devil's jawline. He almost couldn’t blame you if you decided to inject some foreign substance into his bloodstream and make the whole thing look like it was a stroke. Wait, could you do that? Bloody fucking hell. This man spends too much time with his thoughts I swear.

The man spends the whole night trying to assess his feelings, or rather his attraction towards you, convinces himself you're just another pretty face. The man may be touch-starved but he knows there are other methods to handle his needs, even though it's been a long time since he's slept with a woman, like a really long time. But even then, that situation was different. There was never any intimacy involved, like a quick business transaction that finished just as quickly as it started. It only left him feeling as empty as he was before. Not to mention, he doesn't do well with human interaction and that one and only moment he had with a woman daunted him more than it needed to, and so he has remained abstinent ever since. And if he were being honest with himself, you're just a distraction. And how do you handle distractions? You steer clear of them.

So what does this man do? He does what he intended to do. He avoids you at all costs. Oh, is that you walking towards their small, makeshift kitchen to fix yourself a bagel in the morning? Guess what, he’s doing a full 180 and lurking behind a wall like Michael Myers and his stupid hedge, waiting until you’re finished so he can make himself his morning tea.

Not only that but he makes sure to take extra good care of himself, Vitamin C supplements or multivitamins, whatever it takes to keep himself in best health. He even looks up on Google for extra tips to prevent himself from having to send himself in. He had heard of the saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away” and goes out of his way to buy an apple during his morning runs. But the poor chap has it all mixed up because when you walk into your office the next morning, you're surprised to see an apple just sitting there on your desk.

Ghost doesn't know that it's supposed to be the other way around and that the apple is actually supposed to be for himself. He doesn't bother to search up the meaning, nor does anyone bother to tell him because they don't even know that he's doing it in the first place. So every morning he goes on his run, he goes out and buys an apple, and so every morning you find one placed on your desk.

The first time you saw the fruit sitting there on the table where you worked, surrounded by your scattered paperwork, you were confused no doubt. You picked it up curiously in your hand, inspecting the bright red fruit before giving a shrug and biting into it, after you wash it of course. You think it's just a small little token of thanks from one of the men. Possibly Soap considering how flirty he was yesterday. Alejandro doesn't seem like the type to give fruits. He's more of a red rose and a bottle of wine kind of man.

But as days go by, each day you find an apple sitting on your desk. And as thoughtful as this gesture is, at this point, considering the amount of apples you've eaten, you're either going to have serious digestive issues or die of cyanide poisoning, as if you don't already have IBS. So what do you do? You start to collect the apples each morning, deciding to throw in your own twist to this gesture until one evening, the men come back from one of their missions to find a freshly baked apple pie and a stack of paper plates and some utensils sitting out on a table for them, including a small little card with the handwritten words "bone apple tea". What in the hell.

"What in the fucks is bone apple tea." Gaz scrunches his nose at the writing on the little card.

They're all standing around at the table staring at the pie with confusion written across their faces. All except Ghost of course, the way his eyes slightly widen once he sees it. His gut is telling him you're behind it. Hm I wonder what gave it away.

"What’s this?" Alejandro asks, tilting his head at the thing.

"Looks like apple pie." Gaz answers.

"Yes I know that." Alejandro remarks. “But what is it doing here?"

"Doubt it's from any one of you muppets." Price speaks up. He knows damn well none of these men know how to bake. There’s only one person here whose hands are skilled or nimble enough to make the braided trim on that crust. Not to mention the detailing in the center, like the way you carefully placed little leaf designs made from the crust on top of the braided design. Yup this was definitely you, unless someone else here had a secret talent they had been hiding.

Literally why are these men acting like the pie has poison it. As if Graves sent it or something. Just shut up and eat the pie before it gets cold you himbos.

"So who made it?" Soap asks, looking towards the others for answers.

"This," Alejandro chuckles after finally realizing, "this was made by the hands of a woman."

"Who, y/n?" Gaz quirks a brow, you're the only woman here.

How in the hell did you get the means to bake a complete fucking apple pie in a place like this? They always heard doctors have skilled and steady hands but what the actual fuck.

"Well don't mind me." Soap literally cuts a big ass slice for himself before going off to devour the thing.

The boys watch Soap basically almost moan once he takes a bite of your pie as he goes off yelling out something along the lines of "well tidy scran", before helping themselves to a slice.

Ghost is the last one to cut himself a slice. He was hesitant at first before finally giving in, plus he also got back from a mission and he's hungry. So when he digs in his fork and has his first taste, it's kinda like that scene from Ratatouille where the food critic Anton Ego finally takes a bite of Remy's food and is reminded of his childhood, except Ghost doesn't have a childhood.

Let me tell you these men are obsessed with your pie and are practically fighting over the last slice like a pair of siblings so don't be surprised when you wake up the next morning to the see that the plate that your pie was in is completely empty without a single crumb in sight. Jesus. Did they lick the table down too?

Also I think you may have just given Ghost a newfound sweet tooth. When he went back to his room that night, he's debating on whether he should keep his daily routine of giving you apples, so far it’s kept you away. What he doesn’t get is that you made a whole damn pie out of the apples he gave you when they were actually supposed to be for you, or him, if you look at it from his distorted perception. But wait. What if you know it's him, and that's why you made the pie in the first place? A way to a man’s heart is not only between the forth and fifth ribs, but it’s also through his stomach. And as much as he wants to deny it, he also kind of secretly wants you to bake another one. It's almost as if he's completely forgotten why he placed those apples on your desk in the first place.

So what do you see when you wake up the next morning? An empty plate and yet another apple sitting on your desk. Okay what the fuck. You've let it slide all those times but now you have got to know who's pulling this shit. It’s not that you hate apples, but the conception that you have no clue who’s behind this is making you start to view the poor defenseless fruit as an object of taunting and torment. And to be honest at this point, you're beginning to think this is some kind of joke. So with the apple in your hand, you head towards the common area where the others are currently settled.

“Okay who did it?” You call out once you enter the area.

Crickets chirping.

All heads snap towards you to see you standing there with an apple held in your hand. They're almost stunned to see you wandering about. They rarely ever see you since you're usually locked up in your office or your room.

The men have done a lot of shit so just what is it that are you asking. They stare at you with not a single thought behind their eyes, that is until their blood runs cold at what happened last night. Was the pie not meant for them? Shit.

“Did what?” Gaz gulps, trying to play it off as nothing happened.

"Who keeps leaving apples on my desk like I'm about to host a county fair?"

"Come again?" Price asks, not that he didn't hear you, but it's probably the most anyone has heard you speak that isn't related to your work. Not only that, but they’re so used to hearing your “doctor” voice that your normal voice is a whole pitch lower and almost sounds foreign and alien to their ears. Not that they’re complaining because they honestly love hearing it.

"Someone has been leaving apples on my desk every single day." You repeat yourself more slowly. "And I'd like to know who."

So you're not mad about the pie.

Ghost immediately snaps his head away from your direction and nearly chokes on his tea. It's almost a miracle he doesn’t get whiplash from how fast he turns away.

The others are still staring at you, a tad bit scared of the expression that sat on your face. They couldn't make out if you were upset or not.

"Well?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe with your hand stuffed in your coat pocket while your other hand tossed the apple about in the air.

"Couldn't be me." Soap answers.

The others shake their heads as you squint your eyes at each and every one of them, trying to decipher the culprit. "Whoever it is, I will find out." You take a bite out of the apple before tossing it to the nearest person, who happened to be Alejandro, before starting to leave the area.

Alejandro catches the apple between his hands, staring down at the fruit with a chuckle to see where you had bit into it before taking a bite of his own.

Soap can't help but clench his jaw at Alejandro's cockiness. Ghost just turns away unbothered, it’s none of his concern. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

"Wait you're not mad about the pie?" Gaz calls out after you.

"What pie?" You turn back.

Wot

"The pie....from last night."

"I have no clue what you're talking about." You put on your best innocent expression before walking away.

The men snap their heads towards each other. Have they been poisoned? The longer they stare at each other, the more panicked they get.

Alejandro glances down at the apple you had thrown in his hands and is so close to spitting out the bite he had taken.

"I'm kidding." Your voice nearly makes them jump out of their skin as they turn to see your head popped through the doorway. "The pie was from me." You walk away again before turning back around. "Oh, I almost forgot. I have your blood results so if you're free, come see me when you get the chance."

Shit. Ghost thinks to himself after hearing you mention the blood results. He is hoping his blood sample got demolished in some shape or form, but the way you didn't even try to pull him aside to break the "unfortunate" news tells him otherwise. He's just not going to show.

The men watch you walk away in silence after your little moment of humor. They almost don't know how to react. The way the warmth of your voice blended with the obscurity of your words threw them in for a loop.

All except Ghost have no clue who has been sending you apples, but whoever it is that is sending you the fruit, they think that person is trying to win you over. So what started out as some misunderstanding on Ghost's end has now turned into this whole peacocking ordeal. Now it's a competition of who gets you better gifts in order to gain your affection, mainly Soap and Alejandro and even Gaz, but mostly Soap. Price still shows you appreciation for your work and what you do in his own way.

Poor Ghost was just trying to manifest "an apple a day keeps the doctor away". So who’s gonna tell him?

Anyways, when you return to your office to work on your paperwork, the boys go out to get you a little something before meeting up with you to go over their bloodwork results. Despite Soap and Gaz's efforts, Alejandro is the first to leave and the first to return. And just as Soap returns with his little gift for you, Alejandro beats him to it, a smirk playing on his lips as he enters your office with a red rose in hand. Poor Gaz wasn't able to find you anything special so he gets you a cool looking rock he saw instead.

Soap is practically fuming. If you squint hard enough, you might see smoke coming out his ears.

You hear a knock on your door and look up from where you sat at your desk to see Alejandro stepping into your office, a sly smirk on his lips as he holds out a rose.

"Alejandro." You quirk a brow. "What's this?"

"For you, hermosa."

"Oh?" You cock your head back in surprise as you take the rose from his hands. "What for?"

"Oh just a little way of showing appreciation." Alejandro leans against your desk.

"Why thank you Alejandro" You blink, trying your best to push down the blush that tries to creep itself onto your cheeks.

"My pleasure."

You decide to place the flower inside the empty vase you had already set out from before when you moved your things in. "I had been meaning to get some flowers to brighten up the area."

"There's no need" Alejandro smirks. "I'm afraid the rose doesn't compare to you. You do that all on your own."

Little do you know Soap is listening in on the whole thing with a frown. If he pressed his ear any closer he'd fall right through the door. Sure the Scots have their special charm but Alejandro is different and has the most rizz out of all of them, and Soap is fully aware and has always heard they make better lovers and that only adds to his panic.

Now you're definitely not able to hide the heat that spread through your face. You can't tell if it's the state of being flustered or just social anxiety. Well they weren't wrong about Alejandro having a way with words. "Geez, thank you Alejandro. But there really is no need for flattery."

"For you, anything hermosa."

Omfg this dude.

You look away from his strong gaze, managing to shove your flustered state away and stopping yourself from releasing the sharp wit you inherited from your father. Clearing your throat, you open up his file. "Well that really is kind of you Alejandro. And since you are already here, I have the results from your blood work."

"Oh? Everything should be good yes?"

"Well yes, for the most part but-"

"But what?" Alejandro looks confused. What's wrong with his blood?

"Your cholesterol levels are pretty high." You open up his file and read over his results.

"They are?"

"I'm afraid so, but not at a dangerous level. You should probably cut out some of that fried food and red meat and watch your butter intake. Nothing too serious though. Add some greens into your diet, as well as some nuts and whole grains and definitely more fruits and veggies and you're good to go." You hand him a copy of his results before giving a look of grimace. "But watch out on the fiber though. Too much of it can lead to increased bowel movements."

"Increased what?"

"You know, a case of the shits."

The way Soap pulls his ear away from the door and slaps his palm on mouth to keep himself from letting out the most offensive laugh known to mankind. If only you could have seen it. Is he going to bring this up in Alejandro's presence? Maybe.

Alejandro looks over the papers you gave him. "Wait really?"

"Yeeaaah." You give the poor fellow a sympathetic smile. "But hey, everything you need to know is right on those papers, so as long as you cut out the foods mentioned and get a higher intake of the others listed, you'll be back to normal in no time."

"Oh uh. Thank you y/n. I appreciate it."

"Anytime Alejandro." You smile. "You know where to find me."

The way Soap nearly trips over himself as he backs away from the door after hearing footsteps, as if he wasn't eavesdropping on every thing.

Alejandro opens the door and walks out of your office, eyes glued to the papers while Soap is just standing there trying not to be noticed.

The moment Alejandro is out of sight, Soap goes over and knocks on your door.

"Come in." You look up and smile to see Soap. Over the course of the few days since you first arrived here, you were to quick to warm up to the young Scotsman, finding comfort and humor in his personality. You enjoyed hearing him talk about just about anything, and his accent always helped to make whatever he had to say all the more interesting. It really is a good thing he does most of the talking since you make a better listener and love to hear what others have to say.

Soap knows you don't talk much and how you prefer to listen and hear stories, so he always makes sure to keep you entertained. This man is 100% golden retriever energy. Also he calls you lass and lassie and you just eat that shit up, he loves how you blush and that small restrained smile appears on your face whenever he says it. Don't worry, so would I. "Soap! You can have a seat if you want, this will be brief."

"Oh uh, I've actually got you something." Soap hands you a small box.

"Oh?" You quirk a brow as you take the box from his hands? What is it with everyone giving you gifts? Are they in on something you're not? "What is it?" You ask as you open the small box to see a bunch of what looks to be biscuits.

"Scottish shortbread." Soap smiles, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. "I brought them along with me from back home but I thought you'd like them with your morning coffee."

"Wait, are you sure you don't want them for yourself? I feel bad."

"Nah. I can always get more.......if-when I go back home. You keep em. It's for ya. Think of it as a welcoming gift.....for all ya done, and the pie ya made for us."

"Soap, I don't know what to say." You give the man a heartfelt smile. "Thank you.....really, it's very thoughtful of you. It'll give me a variety from my bagels."

"Don' mention it." Soap places his hands behind his back before noticing a small framed picture you had set up on your desk that definitely wasn't there before. "Is that you?"

"Hm?" You raise you brow to see what he is referring to and seeing him gesture to the photo.

"Oh. Yeah, that's me as a little girl." You glance at the photo as a soft smile appears on your face. It was a picture of you when you were a little girl around the age of 5, when your dad took you on a camping trip to Zion. The two of you were sitting near the tent he had set up overlooking the mountain range with you sitting in his arms while he played his guitar, wearing that same old baseball cap of his that you had grown accustomed to seeing as you grew up. The longer you looked at the picture and relived that core memory, glancing at the crooked grin that sat on your little face and the way your father beamed, the more your face began to match the fond look that radiated off your father's eyes as he looked down at your giggling state.

"That's quite the smile you got there." Soap teases, chuckling at the expression you held in the photo.

"Oh please." You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he was joking about. "I know I looked goofy. My baby teeth were falling out."

"And that's yer dad?"

"Yup. That's my old man."

"Ya have yer father's eyes." Soap smiles at you, knowing now where you inherited that certain warmth held in your eyes that was able to put the coldest man at ease by just one look.

You let out a soft chuckle, glancing down at the ground to blink away the tears that have yet to form before looking back up at the soldier. "I've been told."

"Where was this taken? The scenery is absolutely braw."

"That was taken at Zion National Park in Utah. My dad had taken me there on a camping trip."

"It's absolutely gorgeous."

"Maybe I'll take you one day."

"Ya mean it?" Soap turns towards you, a grin forming on his face.

"Why not? It's been a while since I went, not since the photo."

"I think you've just made my day lass." Soap smirks before turning to the other photo. "And I'm guessing that's you as well." Soap gestures to the other photo of you around your middle school years that your dad had taken of you, wearing a wet suit as you sat on your surfboard, a grin on your face and your hair matted with salt water while one of your hands formed the shaka sign. "I dinnae ken you surfed."

"Oh yeah, surfing was my life. This was back when I had caught my first wave in Hawaii. My dad was so proud. Took me out for shaved ice right after and couldn't stop bragging to everyone there about how effortlessly I had tube ridden that thing."

"Your dad sounds like a great man."

"The best."

Soap notices the way your smile ever so slightly dropped at one of the corners, as if some sadness had managed to overcome whatever memories that lied in your head so he clears his throat, deciding not to press on the subject any better. "So how does my blood look?"

"Good actually." You blink, his statement reminding you of what you were going to do since he stepped into your office in the first place. "Your levels are all pretty balanced." You hand him a copy of his results. "As for the muscle cramps you mentioned, try to get a higher intake of electrolytes like potassium, magnesium, and calcium. And most importantly, don't forget to stay hydrated and drink lots of water."

"Aye ma'am. I'll make sure of it."

"Thank you Soap."

"No, thank you." Soap gives you one last smile before heading out. "I'll see you around."

"Bye."

It was not long after Soap left that Gaz entered next followed by Price, hearing you go over their results with intent ears. You actually really loved the little rock Gaz had given you, he had even drawn a smiley face on for you. You thought it was really cute despite his embarrassment in not finding you something better. And after the two left, there was only one person left that had yet to show up at your door. Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

Not wanting to pressure the man who looks like he'd stab you for looking at him the wrong way, you decided to stay at your desk, working over some paperwork of your own until the time comes when he decides to show up whenever he sees comfortable.

Picking up your mug, you decide to get some more coffee, leaving your office and heading to the kitchen area to brew yourself a new cup. Looking up from your feet, you see Ghost walking walking in your direction in front of you.

"Ghost!" You call out to him, or as much as you can call out. You never were one for raising your voice, despite the many times your previous teachers had urged you to speak up, displeased with the way you preferred to keep to yourself as opposed to your more extroverted peers. But even when carrying out their commands to speak louder, you always hated doing so, thinking it drew too much attention towards you. It's a wonder you got through med school and became a doctor in the first place.

Ghost had heard you calling out his name and immediately his muscles tense. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him because that only meant one thing, being dragged into your office to go over his blood results until something else insulting slips from his lips. I promise he doesn't hate your guts! So in order to evade you, this man does the first thing that comes to mind, he walks straight into the nearest room, which just so happens to be the shared showers. Simon you dumb fuck. Let’s hope Price isn’t butt ass naked in there for Simon’s sake.

You blink, standing there with your mug that your friend from college thought would be funny to gift you when you started med school, the one that had the words "I have a PHD" in bold colorful letters with the finer print "pretty huge dick" right below it (of course you never used that mug back at the hospital or else you'd hear about it).

So with your mug in hand, you watch the masked man walk straight into the room where the shared showers were. Huh. Well that's weird. You try to give the man the benefit of the doubt, thinking he just did not hear you. Maybe he'll stop by later. So shrugging off what just happened, you head into the kitchen to make yourself a fresh cup of coffee. God an iced coffee sounds good right now.

Once you had headed back to your office, finishing up your work and taking little breaks in between to read your book or snack on something, an hour turned into two, and so forth. Until you looked at your clock and it was already past the time of sunset. Jesus. Where did this dude go? Getting up from your chair, you step out of your office, holding the door open and seeing not a single soul headed in your direction. What in the-

With furrowed brows, you step back into your office, staring down at Ghost's results that just sat there waiting to be picked up.

"Goddamn it." You hiss between your teeth. You have no idea what his issue is or why he avoids you as if you spit in his fruit loops or tea or whatever. But if he keeps this up, it could interfere with your own job. Looking around at your desk, an idea pops into your head as you grab two things that lied there, a sticky note and a two dum-dum lollipops, a sugar cookie flavor and a butterscotch one.

Heading out of your office, you head towards where the men's rooms are located before stopping at a certain particular one, surveying the area around you to make sure no one sees you before staring straight at the door in front of you. Taking out your pen, you write on the note "please stop by my office when you get a chance", making sure to add your initials in the corner before taping it to his door along with the two lollipops, hoping the candy will be some sort of bribe.

"God I hope this works and he doesn't shoot me in the head." You mutter out before heading back to your own quarters that was separate from the men's due to standard protocol. Throwing off your coat and your clothes, you threw on an oversized t-shirt and some sweats, eating a microwaveable dinner in your own room before getting ready to go to bed. There was nothing you craved more than to collapse onto the mattress and bury yourself under the covers. And as you finished brushing your teeth, turning off the lights and getting into a comfortable position under your blanket, all you could do was stare at the ceiling above you.

Little did you know, that same night, in that same moment, there was another who could not sleep, staring at the ceiling as you did now. He had saw the note that you had left him on his door, as well as the two lollipops. It almost annoyed him, whatever it was you were showing towards him. And it did not help that the note had smelled of you, of that perfume that oh so enriched his senses. The man literally has your note laying on top of his bedside table along with the lollipops. He'll throw it out first thing tomorrow he tells himself.

"Oh come the fuck on." You moaned as you turned over onto your side but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to shut your eyes and shut out any thoughts that attempted at keeping you awake, you just could not fall asleep until you finally give up. "Jesus fuck shit fuck." You hiss to yourself as you throw the blanket off you, sitting up on your bed and throwing on your sweatpants before getting up. Usually on nights like this where you couldn't sleep, you'd find a way to calm your nerves, whether it be reading or drawing or listening to a comforting audiobook.

So, grabbing your pillow and blanket, you open up your closet and grab your father's acoustic guitar, going back over to your bed and staring at the framed photo of your dad that sat on the bedside table before taking that with you as well. Leaving your room, you make sure to be as quiet as possible, looking both ways before heading up towards the roof of the building.

When you were little and had trouble sleeping, your dad used to take you outside to where the two of you had built a little fort, where the two of you would lay under the stars, brushed over by the cool night breeze as he played his guitar, singing old folk and slow classic rock songs until you finally fell asleep. And as you stepped onto the roof, craning your neck to stare up at the stars above you, you were reminded of those moments and the peace it gave you. Setting your bedding down, you prop the picture of your dad up next to you before sitting down with the guitar in hand.

"Hey dad." Your voice is a whisper as you look down at the photo of your father beside you. The photo was taken not even a month after you were born. He had taken you to the fire station he was stationed at, excited to introduce his team to his new precious baby girl, his first child. You could almost say it was your favorite photo of him, sitting on the front bumper of the firetruck in his uniform with you bundled up in a pink blanket in his arms.

"I know it's been a bit of a while since we've last talked." You sigh, forming your fingers into a chord on the fretboard of the guitar. "So to make up for it, I'm going to sing you one of the songs I always used to sing. You know the one, it's one of my favorites, and yours too."

Despite his efforts to fall asleep, Simon had ended up stepping out of his room, walking about the grounds to somewhat ease his mind. This was obviously nothing new to him, he always had trouble sleeping. And during those nights he had trouble sleeping, he'd take a walk to help clear his head. He found comfort in the silence of the night, when everything and everyone was asleep. He would usually go to his favorite spot on the rooftop, where he would seek refuge under the obsidian skies and the silver stars.

As he goes up the stairs that lead up to the roof, he stops at the sound that comes from beyond the door, what sounds to be someone singing and strumming the guitar. Curious to know who the hell had taken his spot and had the radio playing, he goes up further to investigate. So imagine his surprise when he finds you there instead, wrapped up in your blanket and strumming against your guitar, singing The Sundays cover of Wild Horses.

"Childhood living is easy to do The things that you wanted, I bought them for you Graceless lady, you know who I am You know I can't let you slide through my hands" Your voice is ethereal as you sing out the lyrics, your face molded into these deep emotions you can't quite explain.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild horses couldn't drag me away

I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain And now you've decided to show me the same No sweeping exits or offstage lines Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Faith has been broken and tears must be cried Let's do some living after we die

Wild horses couldn't drag me away Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday."

During the entirety of the song, Simon stands there in the distance behind you, hidden in the shadows, entranced, and can't seem to explain the tingles he feels washing over his body. He thinks he has intruded upon you and wants to leave you to your solitude in what seems to be an intimate moment for you, and yet he can't seem to be able to get his feet to move. Instead he's watching you with this newfound interest. He had never expected you to play the guitar as you did, nor have the voice that you did. So as you finish your song, he almost trips over his own feet trying to back away, scared that you might somehow notice that he had been there this whole time.

"God I miss you dad." You wipe away at the tears that start to spill down your cheeks despite your attempts to wipe them away with the back of your sleeve, scanning your eyes over the stars that scattered across the sky, imagining he was up there amongst them. "I miss you so much."

Regaining his footing, Ghost is careful to open the door leading back into the building, that is until he hears you let out what sounds to be a choked sob. He turns his head back towards you, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest as you cry out, mumbling something he can't quite understand. With his hand still holding the door open, he looks down at the set of stairs, turning his head back towards you for one more time before going down the steps, being careful to shut the door without any noise possible.

Part 3

Tags: @souls-rain @euovennia @i-wish-we-could-stay @depressedacidtest @gh0stm3g @thequeenofbigmacs @k1llerch4n @abbiesxox @feraltiddies @wand-erer5 @1redheaded3dragon @anisa269 @joceymoo @mango-corner @classickook @trueee33 @sockertop @lupskelly @chxbits @kuwizo @sluxm3ozt @tobybestupid @anarchygoose @lez-zuha @thatoneautor0123 @marvelmysterywoman @ella-error505 @awkward-0 @ariessux @kermitdefroghere @urloverx @alldaysdreamers @rat-elbows @nananarc @watersquirtpewpewboomm @izzyisstuff

[geralallfandoms]

NSFW| SIMON GHOST Movie night (+18)

First time writing smut, I hope you're nice to me 😔

REQUESTS OPEN!!(smut included) It can be any character.

Tw: Public sex (other people in the room) masturbation, sharing, unprotected sex, p in v, the other people in the room heard everything, (let me know if I missed something!

I can imagine being in the living room of the house that all the boys shared, where you and Ghost were on the couch, spending the night with the others watching a movie.

I can imagine Ghost behind you, his arm around your waist and his other hand under your head as a pillow. It had all started quietly, Ghost's hand slowly caressed your waist, your navel, until at a certain point, his hand began to rise and when you wanted to see, Ghost was caressing your breast. Ghost moved his hand slowly trying not to attract the attention of others, and slowly began to lift your bra.

I can imagine him trying to hold back and not fuck you right there in front of the others, under the blankets.

I imagine him slowly starting to move behind you, trying to take the pressure off his tight pants on his cock.

I imagine Ghost trying to contain his moans as you slowly moved your hand to pull his cock out of his pants and begin to slowly jerk him off, touching his stomach, his tip, and his balls.

I imagine him pulling your pants down just below your butt, just enough so he can slowly penetrate you just as the buildings start to explode in the movie. The perfect moment to cover up the moans.

I imagine Ghost squeezing your waist trying not to move inside you, feeling you squeeze around him, for the entire two-hour movie.

I imagine the others falling asleep before the movie ends, so Ghost took advantage and carried you to the kitchen, after quickly putting on his pants.

I imagine him putting you face down on the counter, pulling your pants back down while jerking off his cock. "You better not make any noise honey, you don't want them to see me fuck you, do you?" Simon said as he entered you forcefully without even warning you.

I imagine Ghost with one hand on your back, making your breasts rest on the cold marble, while he fucks you from behind quickly before the others wake up. Ghost doesn't want to share.

I imagine Ghost on one of those days when he doesn't mind cumming inside you. Just the mere thought of you, filled with his cum, carrying his children, with your big tits, making everyone know that you are his, makes your whole body shake.

I can imagine Ghost resting his chest on your back, taking your tits with his hands as he continues to penetrate you without stopping, not even when he feels you starting to cum. That only makes him start fucking you faster, trying to reach his climax. And when he does, instead of pulling out of you, he pins you against the counter, cumming deep inside you.

As your legs shake, Ghost just keeps moving slowly, making all his cum stay inside you and then staying inside you for a while longer, until his cock is hard again. and I decided to fuck you again, this time in the bathroom, after hearing the other guys start talking about the movie.

Or so you think, because when you close the bathroom door, each of the boys goes to his room to take down the tent they have on their pants.

And how can you blame them? Your moans, the slap of skin, and the growl of Ghost cumming inside of you left them all wanting more.

[hunterbunter3000]

SWEETHEART HAS A WOMB TATTOO????!!!!

YUUPPPPP

Womb tattoos are my everything. I want one EXTREMELY badly, so Sweetheart has one LOL

I got an example that show yall what I'm talking about!

I'm in love.

Tw: talk about scars (under the cut)

Omfg Soap was so shocked when he saw it. (He was the first one to see it) and he's been in love with it ever since. Like-- it's an obsession LOL

He bugs her about it CONSTANTLY

Soap: You sure I can't see it?

Soap: Maybe I'll finish my task if I could take a peek at ye tattoo, eh?

Soap, panicking: Is your tattoo okay?

Sweetheart: Suds, I got shot.

Soap: Yeah but is the tattoo okay?

Soap, laying on her lap: Y'know if I got a lil' peek at your tattoo, my crops would be watered.

Sweetheart: WOULD YOU S T O P WITH MY TATTOO

Soap, whining: I WANNA SEE IT AGAAIINNNN

Sweetheart: NO ONCE WAS ENOUGH

Soap's outbursts about Sweet's tattoo has been making everyone SO CURIOUS like what tattoo are you talking about

So she sighs and shows them, pulls up her shirt and they see THAT PICTURE

AND THEY SEE THAT PICTUUUREE

Babes, Roach and Horangi pass out. HA

Ghost and Price were so bug eyed omg

Krueger broke his glass- like it SHATTERED in his hand

Rudy and König got nosebleeds and Alex turned so red he looked like he exploded

Gaz and Alejandro are no where to be found (they just left and took a breather) and Soap is fucking TAKING PICTURES

Price: You have a womb tattoo.

Sweetheart: Yup.

Price: A Succubus. Womb tattoo.

Sweetheart, smirking: Honestly surprised y'know about that, Cap.

Price, turning red: I--

Ghost: Is that the only one you have?

Sweetheart: Nah, I have more

Soap: WAIT YOU HAVE MORE

Sweetheart: YES I HAVE MORE-- But you aren't gonna see 'em. All of them cover alot of scars I have. Especially this one.

Her hand goes over the womb tattoo and Soap now notices the long horizontal scar that lays on her brown skin. It's a lighter color, and you can see the small hump of new skin.

They all saw the far away look in her eyes, and made themselves a goal to appreciate her body HEHEH (and try to see the rest but that's a side mission)

And now they're all obsessed with that tattoo- I WOULDN'T BLAME THEM

So when König sleeps on Sweetheart, he would peek under her shirt and just stare at it with heart eyes until he feels a slap on his head and sees Sweets frown at him

And then she would grit out "put my damn shirt back down and go to sleep" like a mom telling you to back that candy LOL and he would whine and be all sad like a PUPPY

And Krueger-- so disrespectful 😒

Krueger would feel her hips and then lift up her shirt and just stare at it while Sweetheart would yell at him. He would chuckle and sigh "You know you don't have to hide yourself from me. Meine kleine Göttin, you're perfect inside and out." He lays her down on his bed and his thumbs caress the tattoo. Her breath hitches, "Krueger--" He hums, pulling up his hood to his nose, showing off his pink scarred lips. "My words aren't getting through you." He bends down and kisses the middle of the heart. Sweetheart flinches from the soft feeling, especially from such a low area. Krueger has a job to do, and he's gonna do it right. "So how about I show you instead?"

Uhm- 🧍‍♀️yeah LMAOO

The others just stare and sneak in some touches alot. Like passing by her, especially Ghost omg he would shimmy behind her, rasping out " 'cuse me" and his hands would slide to the middle of her womb and caress it-- and then he would leave 🧍‍♀️BITCH--

Rudy would subconsciously rest his hands there. Like if she's cooking, he would come behind her and ask questions, not knowing that his hands found their way to the tattoo 💀 OMG he would become so damn red when Sweetheart points it out. He doesn't mean to do it, it just HAPPENS (he's so cute tho)

Roach would wait. Like- he would wait until she's comfortable showing it to him. Since he knows she has a soft spot for him, it won't be that long 💅✨️ And she would pat his head while rubbing his face into the tattoo 💀

Horangi and Alex would ask about it more than wanting to see it. (I mean ofc they want to see it-- it's fucking hot) Alex would have sad eyes, listening on how she got the scar and try to cover it, and Horangi would trace the tattoo while Alex would trace the scar. Ugh they make me weak

Gaz would be too flustered to even ASK about it-- if he saw her shirt ride up he would immediately look away and clear his throat (he would have to go to the bathroom LOL)

Price would just stare at it, fantasies going wild 💀

Soap, OBVIOUSLY, would still be obsessed with it. Ugh he would gush about it and ask questions while tickling Sweetheart

Soap, smug: When d'ya get it done, eh? Hm?

Sweetheart, getting tickled: HEHEHEH I-- ACK- I GOT IT DONE AT MY H-HOME TOWN

Soap, grinning and still tickling her: Oohhh, and where are your others? Tell me tell me

Sweetheart: SOAP YOU-- FILTHY BITCH IM NOT- AHHAHAHA IM NOT TELLING YOU

Soap: You will soon, Bonnie!

And she would just show it to Graves. Like legit, he just asked him if he wants to see something and then shows him the tattoo. And she's so MEAN- telling him that no one would believe him that he saw it, and would just walk away while he's still processing what he just saw

OMG AND KEEGAN

He's so-- I love him too GOD he honestly saw it accidentally, he saw all of them accidentally 💀 he walked in on her while she was changing and he wanted to die. They were both freaking out, Keegan apologizing every second and Sweetheart saying it's okay while frantically getting dressed and trying not to fall (his favorite is her sleeves and the womb) no one knows this happened

Keegan, still flustered: We bring this to our Graves.

Sweetheart: Agreed.

[brokenpieces-72]

Monster!141 x jackalope/wendigo reader

The following is based on the hybrid au of @bluegiragi and includes the reader character of @diejager

TW: Mentions of trauma, some violence and mentions of death

No Going Dark

Continuation of Sizes

It goes…slow…very slow.

The Percht is a violent creature and it’s hard for you to not get defensive when it charges as soon as he shifts. Still, you do everything to show it who’s boss, and who should be in control. This does help your strength training so it isn’t a complete waste but the beast is persistent. You try to communicate with it with screeches, roars, clicking, and even cooing, but nothing seems to work. König is frustrated and keeps saying there’s no point. Nothing stops you though, and this stubbornness and determination is something Soap passed on to you. You keep going at it, getting into a fight each time, sometimes coming back to base in rougher shape than before. Hunter doesn’t bother trying to dissuade you, simply scolds you from getting into such a dangerous fight.

One day, you get lucky and the Percht doesn’t attack you. Not the first time it’s done this, as sometimes it will put you in a false sense of safety like a stalking lion waiting for the prey to make the first move before attacking. It recognizes you properly as a threat but it knows that you are not the instigator so it simply waits for you to strike first. To anyone outside the two of you it would look like animals making noises and body language at each other. You don’t share it much with others, but sometimes the wendigo is its own entity. When you shift you’re in control but sometimes it comes out as your protector. In this case, it is speaking for you.

“You…dead… “ it wasn’t a threat.

“No. I am living. The earth gives me life.”

“Monster like…me.”

“Yes. But good monster. Protect you. Protect vessel. Protect pack.” You reply.

The Percht seems to laugh.

“Don’t need pack. Need kills. Need death.”

“No. You need pack. My pack, welcomes you. You must join. Survive.”

The Percht considers it for a moment.

“What you want?”

“You join pack.” You say. “Let vessel control. You make kills.”

The Percht stares at you and considers your proposal. The wendigo waits for its response patiently, but shifts a little. The Percht gives its answer.

“Want kills…want…control…”

“Pack is home… you join.”

The wendigo moves closer until their heads are inches from each other, before it stretches its neck to press its skull against the percht’s head. The Percht is oddly calm, and both of their bodies seem to relax for a moment. The percht’s head pushes against the wendigo but doesn’t part with it. It’s an odd moment of communalism, and one you share with König and your shared other halves.

The Percht is still known to take over, but König is able to have more control than he did previously. When Price learns about this, he is admittedly impressed, and encourages the two of you to work more. The rest of the team becomes more comfortable with König and even Rudy and Gaz give him more acknowledgement. König also becomes more comfortable with you, and you learn more about each other. Horangi’s presence is still regular, but he doesn’t feel as strong of a need to keep König in check when you and Hunter are nearby.

König returns the favour of teaching him control by teaching you how to fight bigger targets like him, in human and monster form. Soap keeps an eye on you though, still a little uneasy about König and if he has work to do, Ghost keeps watch and even offers some pointers for you.

König gets more and more comfortable with you and you with him. Seeing the pup getting closer with him makes the pack a little jealous, but less tense. On missions the two of you start to be partnered up, sometimes as clean up but usually as a destructive distraction.

When he does lose control or you’re unsure you approach and will carefully place your head against his. If he backs away it means he’s not there or someone else is nearby that’s considered a threat. If he presses back you know he’s safe.

Your relationship with König is a bit odd; you tend to him like you’re older than him. While you don’t talk down to him, and he gives the orders, when it comes to the beginning or end of missions you’re right beside him ready to help, and do check-ins during ops to see if he needs support. You’re one of the few people on base he feels comfortable around.

You encourage him to get closer with other members, specifically Rudolfo and Gaz as they tend to keep closer watch on König when they’re in the same room. Relationships go both ways though, and König’s hesitation calls for a different approach. Both men are uneasy. Yes they’re all hybrids and yes König had been showing better control, but his pleasure in his work makes them apprehensive.

“You guys came looking for me when I lost control.” You say. They look at each other.

“Yes but you weren’t mindless.” Rudolfo points out.

“He’s not either.” You argue.

“But you didn’t attack anyone. And he attacked you and could’ve killed you and us.” Gaz adds on.

“The report says he’s innocent.”

The conversation is like two older siblings trying to tell their younger sibling no over and over again. Your pleading bunny eyes is making it hard for them to stay firm. The missions and ops had been going well, and König was more cautious and careful in his rampages. They’re willing to give him some lenience, and there is some sparring between the three of them, that shows his softer side.

König learns other things about you though. He takes notice of you in the rec room, curled up on a couch napping. He gets closer and notices you squirming and moaning. Without much hesitation he wakes you. It startles you a little but you’re relieved. He doesn’t ask about it and instead asks rather bashfully if you want to rest against him. You end up laying on your side against his chest while he does some reading. You start fitting again, but it’s more violent. He holds on to you before gently shaking you. When you wake you don’t have the chance the lash out, with König using his large arms to hold you against him. You’re in tears and hyperventilating though and you make small noises that makes him concerned.

He doesn’t stop you from nestling into him, keeping a gentle hold on you. His wrap around you gets a little tighter, reminding you he’s there.

“Sorry.” You say.

“Bad Dream?” He asks, rhetorically. You don’t respond, and you don’t have to, as he put a hand on your head.

“König… don’t go into the dark alone…”

He wasn’t expecting you to say something so cryptic but he doesn’t pry at its meaning.

“I won’t… not alone.” He says. You tug at his shirt and he rubs your back and plays with your hair a bit until you’re able to fall asleep again. Soap comes in and finds you two. König’s face goes a little red while Soap just looks surprised you’re able to settle so well.

“Mind if I join ya?” He asks before sitting down on the arm rest. “She sleep the ole time?”

“N-no… she did wake up. Bad dream.” König admits.

“She ask you not to go into the dark alone?” He asks, his teasing grin turning to a serious expression. König nods.

“You know what it means?”

“I had some guesses. Kid told me her parents were off their bloody nuts, abused her and even locked er up in the basement. The only food they gave her made her a wendigo.” Soap explained. König had some guesses based on your old scars but didn’t realize it had gone so far. His hold around you gets tighter and he rests his chin on you head.

“What did you tell her…when she asked you?” Soap asks curiously.

“Told her I wouldn’t go… not alone at least.” König says quietly. He gets a pat on the shoulder from Soap.

“Want me to take her to her room?” Soap offers with his hands out. König holds you in a way that says “no mine”.

“I-I’m comfortable here. Thank you sergeant.” König mutters, starting to get sleepy himself. Soap sticks around and chats quietly with König. While Soap has left you and König together on missions before there was often a lingering bit of concern, especially after the tracking incident. You’ve only asked the two of them that question, not wanting to lose anyone else.

Your trauma is your own and you don’t share it if you don’t have to. Growing up your mother was obsessive over you, thinking you were some vessel for a creature you weren’t. You were once a jackalope through and through but now…you were a monster, after she locked you up and tossed down someone who was your friend at one point. You don’t remember their name very well, but recall them calling on you and your mother turning them away. It started your small rebellious phase, wanting to try new things and live a normal life. Only after you had to consume the food did the wendigo appear, in the horrible form you lost control over. The wendigo form you preferred manifested as a protector fighting and encouraging you to eat better. You hadn’t known much about it until recently, and assumed the one that craved human flesh was the only one there was. You don’t know how everything unfolded as everything was an on and off blur. Eventually you were taken away from your home and put into the program, and given a retainer to help you with your abnormalities.

Now you were in the custody of the 141. Soap didn’t wake you to tell you about the papers.

@yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @H0n3y_L3m0n @sans-chara

[the-whispers-of-death]

Welcome to the Blog!

About me:

I'm Aaron, and as my bio states, I'm 22. My current hyper fixation is COD Modern Warfare 2 (Reboot) but I also write for my non-fandom OCs which is in "The Iriecester Realm Masterlist".

Before you read further, please note that this is an MDNI account (which means no minors and no ageless blogs). I will block whoever has an ageless blog or is a minor!

(SOMETHING NEW: I've decided to make a separate blog for all of my 141 x Reader stuff. And you can find that there at @ghostsforghosts)

I've decided to redo my pinned post because I've decided to make this blog only for my OC stuff, including the ones for my OCs "Stone", "Kali", "Ladder", "The Lions", the Iriecester/Non-Fandom OCs (Labeled as "The Iriecester Realm Masterlist") and "Python".

I am now accepting NSFW Requests!

Here are the rules for requesting NSFW.

My asks are open, so feel free to say hi or request a Drabble for a Reader I’ve already done or one you want to see!

Taken anon emojis: 🫧 anon,🐈‍⬛ anon, Freezer anon, Jester anon, 🎰 anon, 🍙 anon, 🪮 anon, 🍅 anon, 🥀 anon, 🥜 anon, 🔮 anon, 🩸anon, Lawyer anon, Rusty anon, Appletun anon, 🧼 anon, 💬 anon, 💫 anon, Hypeman anon, 🧃anon, Lurker anon

Masterlists:

First things first, I had to redo my masterlists because I had too many inline links. So, this had to be separated into individual masterlists.

COD OC "Stone" with the 141 Masterlist

COD OC "Stone" x Male!Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Kali" (Only Kali stuff) Masterlist

COD OC "Stone" x COD OC "Kali" Masterlist

COD OCs "The Lions" Masterlist

COD OC "Sarabi" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Kali" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Simba" x Reader Masterlist

COD OC "Ladder" with the 141 Masterlist

Mr. Silent & Mr. Grumpy AU Masterlist

The Iriecester Realm Masterlist

COD OC "Python" Masterlist

Red String AU Masterlist

One-Shots

And here are the gender identities and sexualities of my OCs. And here are basic info posts for Hearrthrob, Hellstorm, and Death. Here is the list of Stone Variants.

This is not a complete list! It will be updated as time goes on!

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

[simonriley09]

Sloppy Head - Soap[Kinktober Day 26]

TW: M RECEIVING ORAL, PRAISE, WLM, FEM! READER X COD.

Soap's rough hand tangling in your soft locks as he whines, his other hand holding a pen and doing paperwork while your spit goes down his balls onto his office chair, ruining it while he pathetically tries to muffle his noises. He throws his head back in pleasure as your teeth graze the sensitive underside, making him let out a particularly loud whimper, hoping the rest of the team didn't notice as he struggles to focus on paperwork. Ghost who hears it from outside raising an eyebrow but not entering just yet, wanting to let Soap keep some dignity. Soap who bites the inside of his cheek when his cock his your gag reflex, his hand clenching the pen so hard it might snap. When you pull away for air he continues writing but makes a spelling mistake when you spit on the tip and push your tongue into his urethra. His hips buck slightly as the coil in his belly threatens to snap. His toes curl in his shoes and his thighs shake, he snaps the pen before dropping it and pawing at your hair, pulling you even closer to his cock as he shoves it down your throat, his back arching and his head being thrown back as he cums.

When he releases your head and sits back up-right he freezes. There stands Ghost... the door locked behind him and an animalistic flare in his eyes, watching you swallow Soap's cum and lick him clean makes his pants tighten... uh oh lovie... you're about to get it!

[emmster]

Quick silly doodle with the Cod boys and my OC

[ltash]

I am looking for a man in the SAS.

Taskforce, 6'4", Thick thighs, Brown eyes

Credits: leak.aep Tiktok

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 4

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3

A/N: I hope y’all like this chapter and I apologize if it took long! Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated, I love hearing y’alls thoughts. Don't be afraid to stop by and say hi and if there are any ideas you guys would like to have in this story, just let me know! And as always, I hope you lovelies have a beautiful day! 💜💜💜 Also I apologize if some of the tags don't go through, I make sure to add each and every one of you lovelies but the tagging system here sucks ass.

Story Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Chapter Summary: 🎶Don't be suspicious.🎶

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, mentions of sexual themes

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂Simon Riley. Simon MOTHERFUCKING Riley. The only man to exist that has managed to accomplish aggravating you in every possible way imaginable. For a woman known to have a great deal of patience, he sure as hell didn’t even need to lift a finger to break that record. Might as well put him in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘The Most Stubborn Asshole Man Alive’ because you’re pretty sure if you looked up the words stubborn and asshole in a dictionary, his face would pop up.

🍂All you did was help stitch him up from a gunshot wound that could’ve gone way south if not done correctly. And when you tell him to come to you if he has any injures or illnesses because you want to help him, what does he do? What does this asshole of a man do? Insults you! Right to your face! I mean sure it wasn’t a direct insult nor were any of his words particularly insulting, but it was still rude and it offended you.

🍂“Meh don’ bother. I’m a big tough dummy and I eat rocks and tea for breakfast. I don’ need your help.” You mock with a shake of your head and a widened stance, mimicking both the voice and stature of the masked English soldier. The little ‘altercation’ had left you nearly fuming, pushing you to go outside to get some of that chilly night air in order to cool off. “I bet you use Gorilla Glue on all your wounds and call it a day.” You scoff, returning to your original posture. You better pray Ghost isn't lurking around somewhere unless you want your ass beat.

🍂Your dad had always taught you kindness and patience, being the down-to-earth soul he was, but boy was this man absolutely testing the everlasting shit out of you. You almost had to mutter out a small apology in your father’s honor for the obscene and colorful language that fell from your lips. But the more you thought about the absolute 6'4 idiot of a man, the more you became frustrated over it. All that body mass and not a single ounce of a brain. How he has managed to come this far without dying of an infection, you have no clue.

“Hope you like that fucking sour apple Dum-Dum you lollipop thief. You’re lucky I don’t dye your stupid mask pink.” You don't know what came in you in that heated moment but next thing you know you were practically planning your funeral and writing a will of your inheritance for your cat back home. Because if there's one thing you shouldn't do, it's kicking a random metal can just lying around on the street. Let's just say you were fucked because the sound that came out of you was equivalent to the screeching of a dying narwhal. The way the throbbing in your big toe had you clutching the wall and wheezing like a fish reeled right out of the water begging the creator for mercy was enough to produce some sweat out of you. And just your luck, as if the night couldn’t get any worse, Price had heard the noise and went to investigate it. Shouldn't this man have better things to do?

The face you pulled would have risen some concern from your colleagues back at the hospital in the states, a widened smile and pain-filled eyes, and you can’t help but to thank the poorly lit lamp streets for obstructing it. You swear you feel like your head is about to explode from the way you tried to keep it all together. But as Price asked if you were alright, looking over your stiffened and awkward stance, one hand out on the wall and your injured foot crossed over the other, all you could do was nod frantically and let out a wheezed ‘Yup. Finer than frog hair split four ways’. You pray that he doesn’t think you’re constipated or something from the strain in your voice. Coward. I would have faked a fall and had him carry me over the threshold.

Price of course doesn’t get American lingo and has no clue what the fuck you just said but takes it as a yes. Just you wait till he goes back in and tells the others what he heard. The man practically opens up the computer and searches up the phrase that you uttered just to find the meaning, all while the others crowd around. And after scrolling through a bunch of different articles involving different American slang, they collectively decide to learn a bunch of them in order to communicate with you. I lied. Because literally from this day forth, they randomly spit out different words and phrases just to tease your American accent. Actually Soap is the only one who does that………….just Soap.

Anyways……..

When Price finally closes the door behind him, you’re back to gritting your teeth and cursing at the pain in your toe and blaming it for your misfortunes, waiting a couple minutes so as to not run into the captain or the others before hurrying limping back into the building and into your room.

What did I tell ya. Should have just asked for Price to carry you back.

After inspecting your toe as what felt to be broken, you were glad to find out that it was just a grade 1 sprain. As painful as it was, for a successful recovery all it needed was some ice, taping, drugs, and a lot of rest. Rest......right. Like you were gonna get any of that.

Should've just reported it to Price.

Guess you can add one more injury to your list of things that are in the process of healing. The men come back from the mission bloodied and bruised with gunshot wounds, and you…….well you sprain your toe from trying to kick a can of beans or whatever the hell that stupid metal cylinder was filled with.

As if you weren't stressed enough before. Now you had to worry about hiding this tiny injury from the rest of the team to prevent them worrying about you. Also because you don’t want them to start asking questions about how it happened in the first place and find out that a can of beans was the culprit behind it. Hm, sounds a lot like someone else.

When you finally laid in bed that night, drugged out on melatonin and pain killers and wearing an oversized tee and a pair of shorts, you couldn’t stop drumming your fingers against your stomach, your injured foot propped up on a pillow with your big toe wrapped and taped up looking like you borrowed Fred Flintstone’s foot. Now just how were you going to hide that? It’s not like you can just grab a pair of those circus clown shoes or an orthopedic boot or some crutches and hope no one notices. And while you stared up at the ceiling, the drumming of your fingers coming to a stop as you contemplated on the idea while waiting to crash out from the melatonin you took, there is only one thing left that came to mind. So, in one swift motion, you grab the spare pillow closest to you and scream into it. A really long, really shrill scream that would have put the banshees to shame. Yup. You can now say you had officially reached your breaking point.

And what happens when you’re stressed? You have strange dreams, like really strange dreams. I’m talking weird vivid outlandish shit that feel too real kind of dreams. Because when you wake up the next morning, sweat beaded at your forehead, you can only think about the very explicit dream you had last night. The one involving you and the team and a series of very……………how can I say this, rated porn shit. It all felt real, too fucking real, because when you move your legs over to hang off the side of the bed, there’s a tenderness there and well………….everything else that comes with it.

“Yo what the actual fucking shit.” You groan, resting your elbows onto your thighs as you shove your face into your hands and rub at your forehead and cheeks.

How the hell were you going to face the team after waking up from something like that? You could almost paint a picture of the entire sequence as if it just happened, and boy was the image going to be burned into the back of your mind like the searing of a branding iron.

You were embarrassed just thinking about it. Every time you closed your eyes, you were reminded of the way their hands and lips roamed every inch of your body, the way their skin almost burned against yours, the stubble of their facial hair grazing against the sensitive skin that lined your inner thighs and the wetness of their tongues, the sounds of their low grunts and moans that escaped from deep within their chests that mingled with your soft ones as their heated breaths fanned your neck, the sharp smell of metal that paired with the rhythmic swaying of their dog tags as they dangled above you with each movement, and the pulling sensation in the pit of your stomach after reaching your high with each of them.

And then there was Ghost, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, the way he looked you over with disgust while you were on your back when each of them hovered over you. And when he finally stood in front of you, when there seemed to be no one else, glaring down at you from under that mask of his, and uttering one single phrase, 'you harlot of a tart', you woke up. Typical ole Ghost. An asshole in reality and an asshole in dreams.

You needed air, a shower, and a change of clothes, desperately. Price had given you the day off when you finished patching the men up last night. And that is exactly what you were going to do. But first you needed to clean yourself up, preferably with holy water if there was any, and then........well...you needed to get out of this building and get some fresh air because what in the 60s psychedelic orgy was that.

Lazily getting up from your bed, you quickly tie your tangled hair up in a simple bun and slide on a pair of slippers over your fuzzy socks, throwing on your plush Grogu and Mandalorian patterned robe over your sleeping clothes and pulling the hood of your robe over your head to provide extra warmth. Today was a much needed day off after the shit storm that was yesterday. As part of your regular morning routine on the days you didn't work, you grab your other mug that you finally found after rummaging through your things; the one shaped like the head of Kermit the Frog and decide to make yourself a cup of coffee to wake yourself up first and foremost.

Making sure to balance your weight on your uninjured foot, you wobble over to the kitchen, your empty mug in hand and your bottle of pain pills in the other that rattled slightly every time you dragged your feet across the floor. Your eyes tear up as you let out a long and dragged out yawn, squinting in the process which prevents you from seeing just what you were walking into as you place your mug on the countertop with a high-pithed clink.

If you thought today was going to have some mercy on your poor soul........................well you're wrong. Because while you have your back turned to the dining table behind you as you try to start up the coffee machine, you had forgotten that the thing was still broken in the first place, and also the fact that you live with five, now six, other men, and their eyes were now all on you. Girl if you don't turn your ass around-

"Mornin-"

"Sweet baby Jesus!" You nearly jump a foot into the air, spinning around in a frenzy with a wild look to see that the whole crew had been at the dining table the entire time and that you weren’t the only one scared out of their wits.

Did you just say ‘sweet baby Jesus?’ They haven’t heard that one before.

You stare wide-eyed in fright at the men seated at the table, your hair a mess and your heart so close to bursting out of your ribcage you swear you'd have to chase after it as you clutch the counter behind you.

There is an obvious awkward silence in the air as everyone stares at the inharmonious mess that is you and your startled state, curiously eyeing the large Grogu ears that were attached to the sides of the hood of your Star Wars plush robe and your bare calves that peeked out from underneath the hem down to your fuzzy socks that had cats all over it. You're practically following their eyes as they look over to your bottle of pills and your Kermit mug on the counter beside you before looking back at you. Oh to be able to read what went through their heads.

Despite your clashing wardrobe that made him question your taste in attire, there was one thing Ghost had focused on more, one that was obvious to those who knew it, a dainty tattoo of the unmistakable silhouette of a rose along the side of your calf. Was that the same rose off of Depeche Mode's 'Violator' album cover? It sure was, because right in the center of the stem where the rose was cut off, were the words 'violator' in cursive. Be still his heart. Is this man planning a proposal and your entire wedding? He was almost curious to find out what other bands or artists you listened to. Maybe he'll sneak a peek at your playlist-

"Howdy! You eh...........ya look worn slap out......I reckon." Soap smiles, trying to mimic the southern American accent but failing miserably, which only earns a round of groans of agitation at the table as the team roll their eyes. All but König of course, he's just as clueless as you are. He wasn't there when the team were searching up American slang.

You-what? The hell is this man on about?

"Jesus-" Price rolls his eyes at Soap's antics as he goes to take a sip of his coffee.

"......................" You're still mute. Your eyes dart between each of them, your thoughts only replaying the pornographic images of your dream as this sudden irrational fear begins to develop that they might be able to get a glimpse of your thoughts. Make a run for it-

"................Ye awright there wee lass? Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally." Soap's smile drops.

You're lookin a bit what?

"Mate, shut up." Gaz whispers to Soap after noticing your disconcerted expression. It was making him nervous, no doubt, and the fact that you weren't saying anything only made it worse.

The whole team were practically waiting for you to say something, but all you could do was stare. Girl either you say something or just take your clothes off and let them have you right then and there on the dining table, bandaged toe and everything if your dream distracts you that much-

"Guten morgen schatz (good morning love)." König sent a wave in your direction to try to ease the tension only to drop his hand back down after seeing that you did not respond. Poor dude is worried you’ve fallen ill and is practically sitting on the edge of his seat, analyzing every detail of your body language and ready to leap to your rescue in case you show any signs of falling unconscious.

Even Ghost couldn't stop the annoyed sigh/huff that escaped, shaking his head at the uncomfortable and nuisance of a situation as he took a sip of his tea, the motion catching your attention. That is when you first noticed that he had the lower half of his mask lifted up to his nose. Was this the first you had seen of part of his face? You found yourself tracing over the outline of his jaw and the cool-toned, medium blonde stubble the color of pale sand after a storm that lined the skin there, following along the curves of his lips and noticing the small scar that traveled down until his words from your dream echoed in your head, the same lips that said to you 'you harlot of a tart'. And as you lifted your gaze to his eyes, you found them narrowing at you. Shit.

"There's uh.......there's a cuppa coffee for you in the fridge there." Price nods towards the fridge near you, hoping that would snap you out of whatever trance you are in. I mean if you don't want it, I'll take it.

"....................." You had this overwhelming urge to puke and the last thing you wanted was to unload your stomach's contents of microwaved pasta right in front of everyone.

"Eh....estas bien amor? (you alright love?)" Alejandro's words pull you out of your thoughts. Oh what I would give to have this man ask me if I'm alright-

Bitch just say something-

“Блядь (fuck).”

Wha-what? That’s not what I meant-

The men quickly give each other a glance from the side of their eye. Did you just blurt something in Russian?

".................sorry what?” You squint with a scrunch of your nose, pulling the collar of your robe over your braless chest as a faint heat rose to your cheeks, utterly terrified to look them in the eye lest you'd get flashbacks. Should've just made a run for it when you first saw them-

More silence, nonexistent chirping of crickets that makes you want to crawl into a hole and decompose. Then there is the sound of someone slurping. Who-NOW WHO'S SLURPING?

"Sorry." Gaz utters a quick apology, dragging his tongue over his lips as he places his cup of tea down on the table.

"The coffee machine is broken love." Price adds.

"I know that." You state with a blink, startling the men on how quickly you suddenly respond as if nothing happened as you shove your bottle of pills in the pocket of your robe before unplugging the machine from the wall and tucking it under your arm.

The team can't help but watch as you leave the area with your mug in hand and the coffee machine in the other, each of them as confused as the next. What in the-

"What the bloody hell was that?" Price blurts out.

"Don' know. Anyone know what's the matta' with her?" Gaz watches you go with concern in his brow.

"Ah dinnae ken." Soap shrugs as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Ah think some nugget-lavvy-heid meid her up tae high doh."

"Mate," Gaz rubs his face. "English-"

"Ah said." Soap translates. "Ah think some eejit has riled her up."

The way Ghost nearly snaps his head to glare at the Scot. Why does he have a feeling he was talking about him in particular? There's absolutely no fucking way-Wait. The lollie. The fucking sour apple lollie. Was that some kind of an insult?

"Well that's a load of rubbish." Price comments. "If ye ask me, she's just knackered from mending yer sorry arses up."

The way Soap, Alejandro, König, and Ghost glare at him.

"Yeh but......why'd she take the coffee maker?"

"She's prolly gonna give it a fix." Gaz answers Soap's questions with a shrug.

Soap sits back in his seat with a pause, pondering on what Gaz had just said before turning to him with a confused look. ".................but ah thowght she's a doctor."

"Fuckin' hell Soap."

By the time that you return to your room, slamming the door behind you, you're already cussing yourself out for acting the way you did back there. Now they definitely were going to think that something was wrong with you. And if they did, what would you say? That you had a dream y'all were playing multiplayer adult twister? No. HELL NO. You'd almost prefer them to think you were a spy and take you out-and I don't mean take you out as in dinner, I mean take you out as in a firing squad take you out. All the waterboarding and the fingernail-pulling in the world could not pry that info out of you. If only that dream did not affect you as much, if only.

Hm. You know what, maybe Ghost IS to blame in all of this. You only get wacky dreams when you're stressed. After all, he was the one who got under your skin, not Soap, not Gaz, nor Price, definitely not Konig, and not even Alejandro.

There was only one other person who ever managed to get on your nerves the first time you got to know them, only one person who never failed to make you roll your eyes every time they opened their mouth: your ex. But even then, at least the two of you got along no matter the snarky comments you made towards each other. And as annoying as he was at times, he always found a way to bring a smile onto your face no matter how hard you tried to hide it. Ghost on the other hand, well…….he’s something else alright. This man literally has you wanting to rip your own hair out and hike to the Himalayas to seek some kind of therapy yourself.

"God I'm such an idiot." You growl between clenched teeth, tossing the coffee machine into the trash before limping around your room with your hands on your hips. You definitely needed to get out of the building or else you just might go mad. And with the men there who just witnessed you at your most vulnerable and natural self, the last thing you wanted was to be within their vicinity. Changing out of your sleeping pajamas, you threw on an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweats, grabbing one of your beanies and tucking your hair into it before throwing on a pair of sneakers. You’re already cracked out on pain meds so you might as well run a few errands while you're out, as well as grab a new coffee machine because god knows that's the only thing that keeps you sane these days. You’re so caught up in the process of rushing to get the hell out of there that you fail to notice the masked soldier standing right beside your door a foot away.

“Holy fucking-!” You jump in your skin, hand clutching your chest once you notice Ghost leaning against the wall in the same exact stance like in your dream. Jesus fucking Christ. “Ghost! I uh did not see you there. You nearly had me rushing to the hospital for heart failure haha.” You laugh nervously through your teeth, trying to maintain your polite manners as to not anger the contracted killer. What the hell is he doing here and what does he want? Sending the man a polite smile in hopes that he would just go about his business, you pull your keys out of your pocket, the jingling of the metal making up for the extreme silence that filled the dusty air between the two of you.

“………………………”

Jesus fucking christ. He's just standing there isn't he-

"Uh. Can I help you?” You ask, turning to the man who only stared in your direction, as still as an unused puppet. Only he seems to ALWAYS have something up his ass. At least a puppet talks.

Damn that fuckin politeness of yours, Ghost thought to himself. “......................You're bein’ dodgy." He did not like the way you were acting back there. It was as if you were hiding something. And being the person he was, he found it suspicious.

Oh if he were to see the reason behind it. You're pretty sure it would make his mask blush.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You press your lips together, fixating on your keys in your hands as you try to lock your door.

"Your behavior. You're up to something."

Ah yes. Good ole Ghost. Trusting no one but himself, the little shit-

"Says the one standing right outside my room." You mutter to yourself, cursing under your breath at the way you fumbled your keys and were unable to lock your door due to how he glared at you as if you had put salt instead of sugar in the queen's tea. You bet your bottom you probably looked like a shmuck struggling with something as simple as locking the fucking door. If this dumbo doesn't scram-

"Come again?"

This man was really starting to get on one of your last nerves. “What? Didn't anyone ever tell you it’s rude to lurk outside a lady’s door? You can get your ass tased for some shit like that.” You snark before letting out a quick breath of air at finally getting your key in the lock. One step closer to getting the hell out.

There it is, the real you. Ghost almost can't help the way a slight amusement builds within him at watching you get riled up like this, the faintest hairline of a smirk begging to pull at the corner of his mouth. But despite his little fragment of entertainment from the show of emotion he had managed to string out from you, he had to remind himself the real reason he was here. “The hell are you up to?”

“Nunya.”

“Nunya?” Ghost narrows his eyes, not sure what you were getting at and at the same time not liking where this was going. He swears if this is one of your little tricks-

“Nunya damn beeswax that’s what.”

“What-“ Ghost straightens himself off the wall, hands lowered to his sides. Okay now you were just annoying.

“How was the sour apple lollipop?” You remark, not being able to hold back the snide comment that slipped from your lips. You prayed he would get the meaning behind your little 'token of gratitude' from last night.

You should not have said that-

Bitch I’d become a track star in the fraction of a second-

“You-“ Ghost takes a step towards you but stops from the way you whip your head towards him.

“I know you did it, you little burglar. What, you think I wouldn’t notice that some fish-and-chips-eating crackpot was ransacking my lollipop stash?”

Da foq did you just call him? Ghost is stupefied as he stands there blinking at you, hands ever so slightly tensing. How the bloody hell did you find out? Did you know about the apples as well? Please don't know about the apples- And as he tries to open his mouth to say something, you don't even give him a chance.

“You know, for someone that is known to be stealthy and whatnot, you sure do leave a mess of your Sephora eyeshadow everywhere.”

Oh now you’ve definitely popped a nerve.

“What? You gonna stab me?” You quirk a brow at watching him tense up. “Please, be my guest. Just make sure it’s quick and that I’m officially dead so my student debt disappears.”

Bitch don’t give him a reason tf-

Jesus you talk a bloody lot when you’re nervous, Ghost looks at you confused as he cocks his head back. Well he sure didn’t expect that answer. Doesn't change the fact that he's pissed though.

“You know, you should be glad I didn’t write your Skeletor ass up for not only neglecting medical treatment but also stealing my damn treats.”

“Ye’ve got some nerve ye little tosser-“ Ghost grabs you by your upper arm and yanks you to him as he glares down at you.

Your poor toe-

“Ow! Someone outta teach you some manners.” You sputter, surprised from his sudden and forceful movement. And yet, you can’t help but find yourself flustered at being manhandled no matter how much you tried to preserve your vexation towards him. Ohhh, were you attracted to this? Wait, am I attracted to this???? Nah-

“Yer a real pain in the arse you know that.” Ghost can’t help but to roll his eyes, knowing damn well he did not handle you that roughly to begin with, despite your reaction.

But you and I know it’s just your toe-

“Yeah no shit. I’ve been told.” You roll your eyes in a dramatic manner. “But if you wanna be real, you’re like a bad hemorrhoid if we’re being honest.”

Did you just-

“Whot the bloody hell did yuh just call me?” Ghost snarls as he yanks you even closer to him, your chest bumping into his. Did you just call him a fucking hemorrhoid?

The jerky movement elicits a small gasp from your lips, pried right out of your lungs before you glare back at him with as much as you can muster; your jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and your eyes shooting straight up into his even more menacing ones. You try not to think about those nonexistent slander of words he uttered to you. Dream or not, that shit hurt. And as you think back to the dream you had, you were swiftly brought back to the circumstance right in front of you, immediately aware of the lack of distance between the two of you and the way your chest was pressed up against his.

A heat starts to form in the pit of your stomach, slowly making its way from your core and unfurling out to every inch of your skin, like being brushed over with a velvety feather under the warmth of the sun. His grip on your arm is almost revering if it weren't for its threatening nature as you stare up at him, and you swear you could feel the subtlest shift in his fingers through the thick fabric of your hoodie from the way his thumb ever so slightly grazes across. Your sharp gaze softens, admiring the way the sun's rays from the nearby window lit up his lashes like wisps of gold, like the feathers of an oriole bird soaring over the deep brown valleys that resemble his eyes.

He smelled like last night’s whiskey, a hint of the cigarette he smoked this morning, and his cologne that smells of sandalwood and pine trees. It’s almost refreshing. And in this moment, you don’t even care that you literally look like a teenage boy with your hair tucked into your beanie, wearing a pair of converse and your vans baggie hoodie and sweats. There was only one thing on your mind, one thing only.

“Let go of me.” The only words you managed to breathe out.

“Or what?"

“…………..I’ll scream.”

*cue Princess Leia's theme*

Kiss him. *insert Emperor Palpatine voice* Do it-

You found yourself burning for this innate desire, this need for him to push you against the wall and have his way with you, to have him lift the bottom of his mask and feel his lips on yours, traveling down to the angle of your jaw and your neck and just about everywhere there was you, all of you. Simon had noticed this sudden shift in your demeanor, the way your biceps loosened under his fingers through the course fabric of his gloves, the way your lashes fluttered against the ridges and deep ravines of your irises as you stared up at him with a far-off look that yet seemed so close. Were you-no, can't be.

The way you looked under him appeared to lure him in, not to mention your scent, that same perfume that seemed to have dug its claws into him since the moment he first met you. His eyes now lowered to your parted lips as he found himself focusing on their shape and the short shallow breaths that drifted through, wondering about how they'd feel, their softness, their taste. And as his head lowered just the smallest inch towards you, he noticed once more the small circular scar on the side of your neck. Only this time, he was finally able to make out what it was, and it reminded him too much of his own past. How that scar came about to form on your skin, he had no clue. But it was none of his concern, he had to tell himself. Clenching his jaw, Ghost drew himself back, once again returning to that cold and forbidding presence that was there before.

Actually it’s a good thing you didn’t try to score a smooch. You’d probably just get WWE body-slammed-

“Can I go now?” You clear your throat. “I’ve got chickens to tend to and errands to run.”

"What errands?"

"Why? You gonna help me pick out some zucchinis?" You cock your head back. "Now if you could release that lego grip of yours I'd appreciate it."

Ghost lets out a hmph, the only thing he can do despite his frustration as he loosens his grip just as you tear your arm away from him.

“Thank you." You give him a condescending smile before reaching into your tote bag to grab something while Ghost watches you intently, hoping it’s not another lollie. Lies. Y'all know he wants one-

“Here are your blood results by the way since you refused to stop by my office to go over them.” You slap the papers onto his chest, which earns you another glare from him. “So don’t come whining to me when you don’t understand a thing it says on there.” You snark one last time before heading off to the front entrance.

"Oh and another thing." You turn back around. "I'd cut down on the smoking and drinking if I were you."

All Ghost could do was watch you walk off with the slightest stomp in your step before breathing out a “Fuckin h-“

“Goddamn son a bitch.” You grit your teeth, stuffing your hands in the pocket of your hoodie once you step out of the building. You swear that man goes out of his way to annoy the everlasting shit out of you. “Fucking shitbag cumguzzler ass-OH MY GOD!”

You stop suddenly at the sound of a small animal, your eyes wide and mouth hung open as you look towards the ground to see a tiny tabby kitten trotting in your direction from the bushes, it's tail fluffed straight up in the air as it was excited to see you.

“Hi there little guy.” You coo at the small ginger ball of fur making its way towards you before bending down and reaching a hand out. "What're you doing here all by yourself huh?"

The kitten stares at your outstretched hand, giving it a sniff before finally rubbing its head against your palm with its eyes shut. You almost had to bite your tongue from the squeal that just ripped out of your throat. I lied. You did squeal.

“Ahhh omg." Your smiled, your heart swelling at seeing the kitten warm up to you as it came up even closer and lifted its tiny paws to rest up on your bent knees. It was as if you had completely forgotten the mayhem that was today, as if it was just you and this tiny kitten and no one else.

"Oh you’re coming home with me.” You carefully pick up the kitten with both your hands before cradling it against your chest, stroking your tired fingers through its soft and yet dusty fur.

“Mew.” The kitten let out another meow, the small rumbling in his chest vibrating against yours as his pupils widened, nearly blackening out his pale yellow irises as he stared up at you.

“You know what." You gasp. "I shall call you Spot." (Kudos if you know where the name is from.)

“Mew”

“You don't have any siblings hiding out in the bushes ready to jump me and steal my credit cards do ya?"

“Mew.”

“Shit.” You mutter out, your smile dropping as a realization comes to you. How the hell were you going to hide the kitten?

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