#cod mw fandom

[stoutguts]

“What is Soap’s favorite fruit?”

Neil: Chocolate chip

Soap: Chocolate chip

Roach: (doesn’t exist in the remakes)

Ghost and Gaz (simultaneously): That’s not a fruit

Soap: Chocolate chip

I can’t get over how fucking funny this is.

[writingmyheartsout]

Finally an update!

In the last few days, i wrote a short story (instead of the longer ones I was struggling on) prompted by a convo I had with a friend.

So this is sweet, short but oh so lovely (and if you read the updated König bio, there's a small detail I added as well)

so there it is:

BABY, I'M YOURS on Ao3

[zarstarss]

leyendecker art study but it’s ghostsoap because im autistic as shit and everything i draw has to have The Funny Characters

(original is called Portrait of Two Men!)

[quoxal]

"He told me to hold still but I didn't want to soo... he made me hold still" - Soap

[aestheticanimegirl15]

TW: slight angst, slight mentions of pregnancy, fem reader

It happens every year without fail since you and Simon got together. Every December, it's almost like clock work. You've come to accept it now as sort of a tradition. You put up the tree, wrap it in colorful lights, candy canes, tinsel, and ornaments that's been in your family for years. You hang up the stockings, make hot coco, etc. All normal, right? Except for this.

It's happens a handful of times, a week or a couple of days before Christmas. You'd wake up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night because the spot next to you is cold, the personal heater you call your husband no where to be seen. Except you know exactly where he is, and if you can manage to pull yourself out of the comfort of your warm bed and into the cold winter air you will find him exactly where you thought he was.

He'd be sitting on the floor, criss crossed, and just staring at the Christmas tree. His hulking form looks almost comical in such a position, almost looking like a school child waiting for story time. It's easy to tell he's tired and probably cold, too. So you grab a blanket and sit next to him, drapping the blanket around the both of you. He'd accept it, but he won't talk, not a peep, he won't even take his eyes off the colorful tree.

So you don't, either. You'll just sit there with him, looking at the tree and the presents you had managed to wrap before you had to stop because your legs were numb and ran out of tape. You'll notice the distant, almost sad look in his eyes as he stares at the tree, like he's remembering something. But you won't mention it, in the past you did but he'd always divert the question.

"Maybe in the future, love." He'd say.

And since there was no point in asking questions you'd get no awnsers to, you just came to accept this as a part of who he is. After all before he met you, he never celebrated the holiday unless one of his teammates forced him to. You remember being shocked when he told you he had never put up a tree before.

"Just never saw the point in it."

After a while, if you're able to, you'll manage to coax him back into bed. The bed now cold but just as comfy as when you left it, and you'll fall back asleep in his arms.

Simon swears to himself that one day he'll tell you once he's comfortable enough. He'll tell you about his mother, brother, sister in law, and his nephew. Maybe even tell you what happened to them if he can bring himself to talk about it without breaking down. One day, he'll tell you about his past, but not tonight. Tonight he'll just focus on the feeling of you in his arms, the sound of your gentle breathing, but most of all he'll focus on the feeling of your stomach and the five month baby bump that was hidden underneath your night shirt.

But in the quiet of the night, when he knows your asleep. A silent whisper floats up into the air

"Merry Christmas, mom... I hope Santa is able to get little Joseph his present. Say hi to Tommy and Beth for me...."

[temeyes]

LT's quite the romantic, isn't he?

[gomzdrawfr]

Day 3 of PriceGhostWeek - Blushing

cw: suggestive (very, hence the big gap before image)

inspo: (nsfw) Rosso

[cyxnidx]

LITTLE ONES !

character: dad!simon 'ghost' riley

genre: fluff + headcanons

a/n: the idea of simon being a father raids my mind

dad!simon, who'd kiss his little ones on the foreheads every night, watching them closely before leaving to sleep with you.

"simon," you call your husbands name. "they're sleep, i promise." simons been sitting at the side of your childs cot for the past 35 minutes, watching as they sleep peacefully. "yeah, but they could-" you stopped him. "oh, shut up and come on."

dad!simon, who hugs his little girl tight when she cries from a fall.

"it hurts!" she'd whine, tears pouring from her eyes as simon lifts her from the rough concrete. a sharp pain hit his heart hearing her cry from what seemed such a little scar, that was so big for her. "i know, darling. it's okay."

dad!simon, who'd recklessly throw his little boy in the air, heart skipping a beat when he hears his squeals of joy and excitement.

dad!simon, who takes his kids with him to the base one day and introduces everyone to them.

"everyone.." he states reluctantly, noticing the amount of attention he gained simply by saying a word. he felt his little ones hands grip onto his pant legs, shaking. "..meet my little one."

dad!simon, who laughs at the idea of his little girl turning into a sassy-rebellious teenager one day.

dad!simon, who smiles proudly at his teenage girls bossiness.

you sigh, sitting on the couch as you and simon hear your little girl in the kitchen, speaking with her boyfriend. it started with a small disagreement, but then he says something she doesn't enjoy. when he hears his little girl correct him in a bossy tone, voice getting slightly louder and British accent getting even more threatening, he grins when all he hears on the other end is a "yes ma'am." and silence.

dad!simon, who'd answer his girls every beck and call.

"dad!" she'd call from her room, rough British accent booming through the house. just like her fathers. her eyes resemble a puppy's when she sees his face poke around the corner. "can you get me a drink? please."

dad!simon, who has to restrain himself from taking his child from school.

dad!simon, who almost sheds a tear when he hears his little girl talk to him with a British accent similar to his.

"daddy! why would you do that." she whines, eyeing her father. simon looks down in surprise - not because of the fact that he knocked her blocks down, nor the fact that she'd curse him out had she known any curse words, but the fact that she's eyeing him with his eyes, with his harsh, British accent, she learned from him.

dad!simon, who almost looses it hearing his little boy call for him after school.

"daddy!" the boy called, running off the bus in the rain and into his fathers arms, under the umbrella. "i missed you!" simon never felt such a fuzzy feeling in his life.

dad!simon, who gets his kids name followed by whatever they want tatted on his neck.

dad!simon, who's always anxiously looking behind him in public while shopping in fear of someone taking his kid.

"you still there?" he asks gruffly, looking back anxiously when he doesn't get a response, only to see the small child too focused on his phone to respond. chuckling, simon continues walking.

dad!simon, who constantly reminds his child he loves them dearly.

"i love you." simon mumbles quickly, reminding his little boy for the hundredth time, holding his small body close as he watches his dads phone. "i love you too, daddy." the small boy responds, clearly fed up with his fathers admiration.

dad!simon, who doesn't mind threatening his little girls first boyfriend.

dad!simon, who got his babies hands tatted on his chest.

dad!simon, who still cries at the mere thought of his kid even existing.

you roll your eyes gently as your husband hides his face in your chest, tears staining your shirt. "simon.." "they're so sweet.." he'd mumble, voice slightly hoarse. you sigh, patting his back. "and i thought i was the one in post-partum depression."

simon looked down, viewing his little girl playing with toy soldiers she saw in the store earlier that day. she begged him to buy them for her, and here she was, making small explosion and shooting sounds with her mouth, throwing them around. and before he knew it - tears were flowing down his face.

simon sat quietly, watching his son fiddle with a puzzle toy he'd proclaimed to be his favorite earlier that week. concentration painted the small boys face. and yet, here simon was. crying.

dad!simon, who reminds his boy/girl that not everyone is the same after their first breakup.

dad!simon, who often reflects on his past and what he missed out of his family, wanting to give his kids so much more.

"m' gonna give you everything i've ever wanted.." simon says under his breath, holding his newborn son.

dad!simon, who adorns every one of his kids features and ensures he shows them every day.

[eccentricallygothic]

Trouble.

Hard Dom!Phillip Graves who has never been soft with a sub before you… 

Warning(s): Established D/S dynamic, collar and leash, kneeling, total submission, fluff, size kink, age gap, shy!reader, intimidation kink. MDNI.

The little lock to your collar clinks as you whip your head towards the double doors of the balcony that the rain hits and melts itself against. Though your entire body years to rush towards the glass barriers and push them open to let yourself out, you bite your bottom lip to help yourself concentrate on staying in place like you had been ordered to do so. 

Your Dom, the much older and experienced Commander Philip Graves, doesn't have to look up from his laptop screen to know the battle you're fighting within yourself. It's his order against your impulse and the attentive soldier catches your smaller form getting fidgety by the second right away. 

You struggle for a few moments as your try to bring your eyes back to the spot that you are supposed to stare at while you kneel beside his couch and wait for his command -any command- to act upon. But it hasn't rained in a while and the louder and more aromatic it gets, the more restless you grow. 

You nearly jump out of your skin from the shock and sensitivity -because you're extremely shy around him; something about his aura- when your desperate gaze bounces from the door to him and you find him already looking at you. Your heart leaps up in your throat and a thousand butterflies stem from the base of your stomach all the way up to your chest. A deep red burns into your cheeks and you whimper from the amusement that is on his face. 

“Well?” He speaks when you choose to remain quiet. The two of you have never really needed many words to communicate. “Go on, then.” The Commander loves the colourful light that flashes in your eyes and your nervous expression turns into a big beam. Being the kind of Dom that he is, you suspected him of denying or teasing you about it just because he had the power to do so and you loved to surrender it to him. And unbeknownst to you, if it were any of his older subs and not you, Philip would have. He knows it as well as he knows the sun exists, he would have.

You are on your toes before the next second can start. The older man sits up a bit straighter to undo the leash that is attached to your collar and he cannot help but let out a little smile when you mutter a cute thank you, Master before bolting in the opposite direction. 

But then you halt midway and spin on your heels. Though your body is half cocked towards the doors, your eyes eagerly find him and you smile. “Would you like to come with, Sir?” You question with a meek politeness, fingers shyly toying with the ends of the fancy lace underwear you wear for him. 

Philip is taken aback, as he always is with you. He has never had this kind of a bond with any of his subs. Sometimes it's strange to him how you behave and care beyond your place as his sub. Of course, he cannot and would never harbor any ill feelings towards his past partners for not being like you as the conditions are always clear and strictly to be maintained within the Dom-Sub dynamic since his line of work doesn't allow him the liberty of a lover. 

But Philip appreciates you nonetheless. 

“Uh…” He looks down at his own navy blue sweatshirt dark grey trousers and then looks back up at you. 

You understand. “Is okay!” Your links clinks adorably as you excitedly rush to him and hold a hand out. “I'll clean the mess! But you must come, it's really so fun, Sir!” When Philip tilts his head to the side and looks up at you in a contemplative manner, you do a series of restless mini jumps. “Please, c'mon!” 

You'll be the death of him. 

“Alright, alright” he puts the laptop aside and takes your smaller hand before pushing his heavy and broad body to stand up and tower over you. You squeal from delight and begin to pull his bigger form towards the balcony. The man shakes his head to himself. 

Philip is in so much trouble.

His eyes follow your feverish form as he slowly lets you drag him towards the glass doors before he helps you slide one open since you are holding his hand in yours and are too small to manage to do so with one. You squeal again and this time the Commander cannot help but snort under his breath as reaction to your childish antics. Quirks of having a younger partner, he guesses. 

“Careful” he calls firmly when you get too excited and start slipping and skidding about on your naked feet, the wet marble underneath your feet helping your play and Phillip's grip serving well as an anchor for your body. “Don't go hurting yourself now.” 

But you're exhilarated as the cool water hits your face and semi-naked body. You giggle -though you're usually rather coy around him- and jump, you twirl and spin, you do a silly little dance sequence while holding his hands and making him copy you. 

And though Phillip tries to be the responsible one, he cannot help but scoff out a chuckle at your antics, his heart erratic as it revels in the melodies of your pouty whines when he refuses to let you go off by keeping a firm hold on you. 

And then the Commander surprises the both of you -as he is not one to show much affection- by suddenly pulling you closer until you are pressed against him and his arms coil around your waist. The hot kiss he connects your mouths in steals the very breath out of your lungs and the manner in which he refuses to let go makes you melt into him.

Oh, it's trouble alright. 

. . .

I am too tired. Unedited would have to do for now.

[arunneronthird]

two different flavors of absolute menace

[local-crying-boy]

🄽🄸🄺🄾🄻🄰🄸

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 - 𝔻𝕒𝕪 6

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝: 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔

���𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔(𝚒𝚜𝚑) 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 + 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚝…?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.8k (𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Translations:

любовь - Love

моя девочка - my girl

Да - yes

это то, что тебе нужно? - is that what you need?

высказывайся - speak up

я так долго хотел тебя - I’ve wanted you for so long

конечно - of course

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Nikolai, a talented pilot and a friend of your Captain, was a good friend of yours. He was kind and funny, caring but still stern sometimes. He was a perfect mixture of an amazing friend and a hardened military man.

When you had first met him, you were meeting the pilot you were going to be the co-pilot of. You were nervous to hell, your hands were shaking and you were terrified that you were going to stumble over your words in front of a complete stranger that you were going to have to work with until the foreseeable future.

You, thankfully, did not stumble over your words and did not make a complete fool of yourself in front of this stranger. Which, therefore, meant that you and Nikolai started to get closer and closer.

You wouldn’t necessarily say that you two were ‘together’, but some people did comment on how the two of you acted like a married couple, or whatever.

However, you couldn’t deny that the two of you did have a ‘relationship’ of a sort.

You slept together, from time to time.

It was a type of ‘friends with benefits’ thing, it it was mostly a thing the two of you did when you were both basically black out drunk. Which, to be fair, didn’t happen often because he could handle his drink, while you… well, could barely keep up with how much he drank.

You were able to remember exactly how the first time played out, a silly half-drunken mistake that you both made that ultimately led into something bigger.

A comment there, a laugh here, one or two innocent touches.

Then you were stumbling through the door of his apartment, trying to claw each others’ clothes off, barely taking a moment to pull away from the sloppy, needy kisses the two of you shared.

“Jesus, Nik…” you breathed out that night as he pushed against the wall, a temporary thing so that he could feel your body close to his as soon as he could.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He muttered against your lips, his hands running up your sides, referring to fact that he had you pressed up against the wall so quickly from closing the door.

Your lips had clashed against each other’s again, resulting in a desperate, messy make out session, his hands slipping under your shirt as his rough hands felt up your soft skin. His other hand was resting on your hips, though you were convinced he was slowly inching downwards.

You were quick to match his pace in the whole thing, your hands running up his chest, you could tell how toned he was even over his shirt, then your fingers started working on taking of his brown jacket.

A low rumble of a laugh met your ears, his lips near to your ear as he bit lightly on your earlobe. “No patience, hmm? You want to get right to it?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at his low, rough voice in your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin only causing shivers down your spine. His accent too, God, his accent. You could practically feel your legs start to turn to jelly at how heavenly his voice sounded, especially right by your ear.

“Fuck, Nik…” You had breathed out quietly, breaking from the kiss to lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered quietly, his hands moving back to your waist as he squeezed them lightly. “You want to get taken care of? I’ll take care of you, любовь.”

Before you knew it, he was picking you up. You let out a shocked gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall right on the floor.

Then, just as fast as you were off the ground, you felt your back hit something softer. The sofa. Clearly Nikolai was too impatient to take you all the way to the bedroom, wanting you here and now. Though, you had to admit, he was gentle with your body, planting you softly onto the sofa, not simply throwing you down onto it.

You were looking up at him, now noticing how large and muscular he actually was now that was on top of you. He had to admit, as well, that he was somewhat shocked at how small you looked now that you were under him. Not like you were a particularly small person, it just was a different perceptive. One that he loved, too.

Nikolai was quickly to remove his jacket and his shirt, leaving you gazing at his massive pecs and the hair covering his chest. He ran a hair through his tousled hair - thanks to you messing it up during one of many make out sessions - then leaned back down so that the two were of you were face to face, pressing his lips against yours once again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when he was closer to you, a hand grasping the back of his head, fingers entangled with his hair, no doubt messing it up more. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, causing a faint moan to leave your lips, only to be swallowed into his mouth.

“Nik-” you breathed out when you finally were able to take a breath, you felt the ever growing need in between your legs grow and grow the longer the two of you were in such close proximity.

“I know.” He whispered again, his forehead pressing against yours, breath hitting your lips. “I’ll give you what you want in a minute.”

You let out a quiet noise, one unrecognisable to your ears, when you heard him speak again. You were one to hear the differences in others voices, and you noticed the speaking patterns with Nikolai. However, now, with his breathlessness and low tone, you were finding yourself getting wet at his voice.

“What’s that, hm?” He mused quietly, a grin pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure I’ll pull out all those noises from you, I’ll hear it again…”

His hands moved under your shirt again, pulling it up slowly to reveal your abdomen. “Move your arms.” He whispered, and you obliged without a second thought.

Your shirt was quickly discarded and thrown someone where in room, Nikolai’s hands were soon back on your sides, running upwards to your bra.

“Can I?” He muttered softly, looking you in your eyes, one of his hands moving to the your back to idly fiddle with the strap.

You nodded slowly, looking up at him as your heart raced out of your chest. You were really doing this, sleeping with your co-pilot, your friend.

Your bra was soon discarded after your nod of approval, Nikolai’s mouth attaching to one as he started to plant sloppy kisses over the bud on your breast. He was only encouraged to keep going after you started letting out a small noises of pleasure.

One of your hands moved down to his jeans, fiddling with the button as you tried to undo it with one hand and without looking. He only let out a muffled laugh around your tit as he felt your struggle.

He parted with your skin for a moment, muttering. “Let me help you with that.” Before he undid his jean button and unzipped his zipper.

Just like his shirt and jacket, his jeans were thrown someplace in the living room, living him in his boxers. Even through his boxers, you could tell he was big, and it only looked bigger with his growing erection.

Nikolai leaned his head down again, planting kisses across your chest and collarbone. His hands went to your sides, feeling up you up before he decided on removing your clothes on your lower half.

You pushed his head back up to yours with your index and thumb on his chin, quickly pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss, your hand that had moved his head wrapped in his hair again. You were able to slip out of the shorts you were wearing, a fete proven difficult while you were desperately pushed your lips against Nikolai’s.

The situation was moving so quick in your eyes, one minute you were drinking happily with your co-worker, the next the two of you were laying practically naked on the sofa together. Had you been not so preoccupied with the situation at hand, you would have laughed about the whole thing.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, моя девочка…” he whispered quietly, his nose brushing against yours. “We should have done this long ago…”

You let out a small hum, god, his voice sent heat straight down in between your legs. He was going to start catching on soon, you were sure. Your underwear was sticking to your pussy so much that it was uncomfortable now, you could feel the wetness every time you shifted, even slightly.

“Damn it, Nik…” you whispered quietly, you breath with shaking with anticipation. “I need you so bad right now.”

He let out a huff of amusement, looking down at you with such a stupid, smug grin. “Да? You need me?”

You quickly nodded, you breath hitching quickly when you felt his hand travel down your abdomen, no doubt inching towards your soaked pussy.

“You want me to touch you? Is that it?” He asked with a hushed, husky voice. “Want my fingers inside of you, это то, что тебе нужно? My fingers?”

You nodded once more, shivers running up your spine as you felt him slowly pull down your underwear, down your thighs and then off over your ankles.

He let out a small chuckle when his gaze fell on how wet you were. “You’re this wet already? Just from us making out?”

“You can’t blame me.” You joked with a laugh, looking up at him. Though, you couldn’t blame you could feel your face flushed with embarrassment.

He made a small movement with his shoulders, nodding slowly. “I guess I can’t.”

His forehead was pressed against yours again and he found you in a softer kiss than before, his hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. “You must really need me, though.”

The sound of his voice sent a familiar shiver down your spine, a small breath escaping your lips, Nikolai no doubt being able to feel it.

“Do you like it when I talk?” He asked faintly, his lips unhurried down your neck. “You always have a little reaction when I speak.”

“Nik…” you whispered out, he was so close to where you desperately needed him and he was taking his sweet time moving his hands.

“Yes, yes, любовь.” He chuckled quietly. “Where’s your patience, hm?”

His eyes were fixated on your expression as his first finger slowly slipped into your folds, an amused smirk on his face as he watched your mouth open, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

“Да, you like it, hm?” He mused softly, his lips pressing against your neck, planting wet kisses on your skin.

He found your faint moans beautiful, the way you were still only quiet from his slow movements, the way you only let out soft breaths.

“Oh, you’re so wet.” He whispered quietly, easily slipping in a second digit steadily inside of you. “See how easy I can slip in?”

You let out a gentle mewl as he slowly started to scissor your soaked pussy, your hand travelling up to grasp his forearm as your head leaned comfortably on one of the pillows on the sofa.

“Nik…” you moaned out, head leaning back as your eyes fixated on his as he looked intently down at you.

“What?” I asked with a chuckle. “Go on, tell me what you want, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t answer straight away, simply just relishing in the small amount of pleasure he was able to give you while using his fingers.

“C’mon.” He encouraged quietly, his lips moving up to your ear and lightly biting on your earlobe. “You can do it, speak up, высказывайся.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut for a split second. “I need you to fuck me, Nik…”

He was content with your bluntness, easier than beating around the bush. “Okay, любовь, okay.”

And with that, he moved his fingers out of your wetness, his index and middle finger coated in your slick. Before he even moved to take off his underwear, he placed his fingers in his mouth and licked off the sticky coating, a soft noise escaped his lips when he did so.

“Who knew my girl would taste so good.” He said with a rumble of laughter in his chest. “моя девочка… all for me.”

Then he started to finally get fully bare, his boxers joining the rest of both your clothes that were previously thrown off. His member stood erected, the size intimating you more than you thought it was, but maybe that was just because you were intoxicated.

He leaned down and gave you a long, passionate, reassuring kiss on your supple lips. His hand on the back of your neck as if to stabilise you.

In a couple of shifts in position, his cock was comfortably resting in between your thighs. You could feel the tip of his shaft just by your aching pussy.

“Are you ready…?” He asked quietly, his hands now moving to your waist, just so he had something to grope and tightly grasp as he fucked you.

You nodded quickly, your breath heavy with anticipation. “Yes, yes…”

The smirk on his face hadn’t ceased, your eagerness and need for him only amusing him throughout the entire affair. Though, even he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you too.

He pushed himself into your soaked, aching pussy slowly, a low groan escaping his lips. He pressed his face to your shoulder, kissing up it to your neck, mostly to get you some type of relief as you got used to his size.

“Oh, God…” you muttered out quietly, inhaling quietly as you felt his cock start to stretch you out, slowly. “Nik, fuck…”

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, a hand slowly moving to cup your face, causing your eyes to open again and lock onto his.

“I’m okay…” you breathed out quietly, nodding as you spoke. “I’m okay… you can move.”

He whispered out a small ‘okay’, his hand quickly moving to move his overgrown hair out of the way of his sight. A low grunt being heard as he started to move himself steadily out of you, before pushing himself back into you.

The two of you were swift to get into rhythm, finding a pace that was fast enough to finally get that pleasure that was building up and was slow enough to let you get used to one another.

His hands eventually moved to your sides, caressing up and down your skin as if he was savouring the moment (which he definitely was). Faint groans and gentle moans filled the room, Nikolai on top of you as he rocked back and forth.

As you started to grow comfortable and used to his size, Nikolai heard the small ‘you can go faster’ escape your lips. He hadn’t hesitated to pick up his slow movements into quicker paced ones, feeling how his cock twitched when he heard your moans pick up.

“Oh, Nik-” you moaned out, eyes fluttering close. One of his hands travelled to your hand, quickly intertwining yours and his, you gladly took it.

“I know, любовь,” he whispered, his lips pressing against yours for a few moments before he started to trail his lips down your neck. “God, I love how you feel around me… you feel so good…”

You felt a shiver run down your spine when you heard that husky, deep voice so close to where your ear was. Nikolai surely noticed how you pushed your hips a little closer to his when you heard his voice.

“You feel so good.” He repeated, his lips going up to your earlobe, his teeth grazing against the skin there. “я так долго хотел тебя, wanted to have you moan under me…”

He loved how, mixed in with his cock thrusting in and out of you, his voice made you moan and shiver in his arms. His free hand moved down to your chest, feeling your breast and playing with the nipple.

“I love how you feel.” He muttered, starting to get a little breathless now. “Love how you feel so much… I want to touch you all the time…”

“Nikolai…” you moaned out quietly, your hand going to cup his face to bring him down into another long kiss.

“What is it?” He asked, kissing your cheek and then your jaw. “Tell me…”

“I… need you so bad…” you whispered, even though he was already deep inside of you, even though he was already touching you, even though he was already kissing you.

“You already have me.” He whispered, continuing pressing kissed all over your skin.

You let out a quiet whine, shaking your head slowly. “Need you to cum in me… fuck me…”

Nikolai let out a chuckle, mostly at the little whine that escaped your pretty lips, he loved how he could make you feel so desperate that you would resort to making such noises. “конечно, I will…”

It was safe to say that that one drunken night had paved the course that you and Nikolai would go down for a long time. It seemed so frequent that the two of you would continue this drunken pattern.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kinktober {2024} Masterlist

[stoutguts]

My own personal Hybrid AU??? (Also, Omegaverse). Chock full of my own personal headcanons and ideas. Unorganized/kind of rambling, really just trying to put all my thoughts to paper.

PART 1 CUZ ITS LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE 💀

German Shepherd and Border Collie mix/Shollie hybrid/alpha Soap, and gray wolf and Great Pyrenees mix/wolfdog hybrid/trans omega Ghost. Great Dane and Bloodhound mix hybrid/beta Yuri. (Weredogs, puppy Ghost, puppy Soap, and puppy Yuri teeheehee).

(Simon has their ears cropped and tail docked (and not by choice). It’s ears and tail were severely mutilated, when tortured and held captive by Roba. They had no choice but to crop and dock their ears and tail, as they were disfigured beyond repair. He has metal/silver canine teeth, black and white alternating/“domino” nails/claws, and a pink nose and paws pads. Scarred all over,—but more distinctive features include; a scar across it’s lips (that it got while being tortured and being held hostage by Roba). A large crooked and broken nose, (having never healed quite right and has been broken countless times). A nick/scar across the bridge of their already mangled nose, (if their punched or smacked from just the right angle when wearing their hardshell mask, it cuts into them, (the wound/scar often being reopened and never being allowed to heal). Johnny carries around a few extra masks or balaclavas and extra gauze in his med pack just for when this happens, as he knows they hate the smell of blood and the feeling of it soaking their mask, (it’s a sensory thing that drives them nuts). It has a scar that cuts across the side of it’s cheek, cutting down through the jawline, and stopping at the side of it’s neck, (it got it while being held at knifepoint, the jackass went as far as to flay a good patch of it’s skin off). As well as, a large, jagged scar that wraps around their neck, (they got this after they nearly had been choked to death with some barbed wire). (Which permanently fucked up it’s mating gland and it’s most important scent gland. Since then, their hormones have been out of wack, and their heats are almost always irregular. It’s scent has been forever tainted. Instead of their previously sweet smell,—a combination of vanilla, lavender, and chocolate.—It’s scent is now similar to a mixture of rotten flesh, blood, and gasoline. (Though it hasn’t deterred their boyfriend one bit 💖). Not to mention, the barb wire had dug so deeply into their throat at one point, that it severed a few of their vocal cords. They have a characteristically hoarse and raspy tone to their voice because of that). He wears a heavy steel chain collar, with a silver tag that states its name, callsign, task force, rank, and blood type. They’ve got an identical chain leash to match too. It's eyes are positively striking, one is a honeyed brown, while the other is an icy blue. It’s fur is long, and is fluffy and/or downy, but equally coarse and wiry. They have a pure snow white coat that requires a shit ton of regular grooming, as it easily gets matted or dirty. Ghost uses purple shampoo to maintain the color of his coat).

(Johnny has nicked ears, one ear is pointy, while the other never really perked up, and is half-floppy/flopped down. Although he’s littered with scars,—new pink ones and white old ones,—he’s got some particularly distinctive ones; a scar from a bullet wound on his shoulder (from when he’d been shot by Graves), his scarred temples (from when he had nearly been killed by Makarov). The scar on his chin (which he got when he was a teen, at his lowest, self-harming). He's got a ring-like scar that wraps around one section of his tail, with tufts of fur missing. The scar cutting through his eye, (which he got when his abusive mother threatened him with a kitchen knife, in the midst of a particularly heated and escalating verbal fight. An altercation ensued, and as he attempted to disarm her/snatch the knife away from her, she slashed him with it, and it just so happened catch his eye. The witch was hardly remorseful, even after he’d gone blind in that eye, (though it definitely could’ve gone way worse). As well as, past s/h scars all over his thighs, arms, and shoulders. His scent is a concoction of pine, tobacco, and whiskey, and weirdly more pleasant than the average alpha’s scent. He wears a rope collar with a gold tag that says his name, callsign, task force, rank, and blood type, with an identical rope leash to go along with it. He’s got long, soft, and silky fur, that requires a bit of upkeep. Regular brushing and bathing usually does the trick just fine. His coat is sabled and tricolor, dark brown, charcoal black, and off-white. One of his eyes is a beautiful ocean blue, deep, vibrant and full of life. The other is discolored, a baby blue, shallow, lifeless,—but will somehow stare into your soul. He’s also got one metal/gold tooth/canine, white claws/nails, and a marbled pink and black nose and paw pads).

(Yuri's ears are cropped (by choice,—when his large ears were floppy, they’d get in the way all the time). His tail remains natural. His ears are pierced, one ear has one gold earring, while the other has two that are silver. He's smooth-coated, with a black, white, and ash-brown harlequin coloration. He has black claws, and a black nose. His paws/paw pads are heavily scarred, (acid burns), with fur missing. He also has quite a few scars from bullet wounds. His scent is a faint smell, and is a blend of eucalyptus, old books, and blueberries. His eyes are a grayish-blue, a bit dull, but pretty. All of his teeth and fangs are made of metal/steel. He wears a white leather studded collar, with a studded white leather leash to match. His collar has a patch on it that states his name, task force, rank, and blood type).

Gaz and Roach are Werecats, (kitty Gaz and kitty Roach hehehe). Kyle is a Panther hybrid, and a omega. While Gary is a Lynx hybrid, and a beta.

(Gaz has two particularly nasty claw marks over the center of his back and chest, and a single knick in the tip of one of his ears. They got the claw marks on their back and chest when a sparring match between them and Roach went terribly wrong. While, he got the knick in his ear from a bullet just barely missing their target, and grazing him. They have gold and silver canine teeth, white nails and claws, as well as a black nose and beans. Kyle’s eyes change color between forms and when shifting. Hazel normally, but full-on amber when in feline form. He has a beautiful sleek and silky, waterproof, jet-black coat, (though their spots are more pronounced than that of the average Panther). He also has very tough claws that can shred through just about anything. Their scent is an amalgamation of citrus, peppermint, and freshly brewed coffee).

(Roach’s got a pretty unique scar that covers their nose and the tip of their muzzle, as well as, a diamond-shaped scar over their Adam’s apple. They got the scar on their muzzle from a grenade exploding dangerously close to their face and badly singeing them. While, the diamond shaped scar is something they got when they had been captured by enemy forces, and were tortured for information. Because they wouldn’t talk, the torturer removed their vocal cords. “If you won’t speak, you might as well never speak again”. They had always been a person of few words,—and were promptly stripped of the very few words they did have. One of Gary’s ears is tipped/cut (and not of their own volition). Before they joined the 1-4-1 and prior to climbing the ranks, they were bullied harshly by their superior officers and taken advantage of. They were beaten up, called names, etc. Their callsign "Roach" was even originally a way to mock them and degrade them further. Eventually, they had enough and decided to stand up for themselves, and that was when they held them down and tipped their ear. Not only physically harming them, but humilating them by marking them as a feral cat, as one last hoo-rah. Thankfully, they're much better off nowadays with their current squad. They feel at home in the 1-4-1. They've also begun to see that their name isn't something to be ashamed of, but rather proud of. As it shows that they're one tough sucker to kill,—a tricky bastard. They’re a bit snaggletoothed,—some of their teeth are chipped. One of their canines has the tip broken off of it, while another one of their canines is metal/silver. They have white nails/claws, and a marbled pink and black nose and paw pads. They have massive paws and strong legs. Their eyes are a gorgeous emerald green, and really stand out. Their coat is a mix of grey, brown, black, and off-white, spotted, soft and fluffy.—But long, and requires regular care and grooming. (Fortunately, Gaz and them groom each other 💖). Their scent is a faint smell, but a fusion between butterscotch, vinegar, and freshly done laundry).

TBC SOON—

[simp-ly-writes]

Okay but Price on a road trip would 100% be the guy to stick his hand around to the backseat. Shaking his palm around upwards for snacks to be poured in as he drives and you voice out navigations from the passengers seat. You turn around to watch the rest of the boys all huddled up in the back- shifting around and fighting one another for space as you snap a picture for the album.

[sheepispink]

A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT

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Masterlist AO3

pairings: Simon Ghost Riley/ Reader (platonic or romantic, up to you)

tags: probably loads of military inaccuracies, anxiety attacks (possibly?), heavy angst, angst and comfort, paranoia, bad mental health, cuddling and literal sleeping together (up to you romantic or platonic)

A/N: I’d appreciate if no one complained abt the accuract/realistic of the story (ofc if its the characterisation of ghost that’s perfectly ok!) i’m open for criticisation for how i write etc etc but this is a sensitive topic and.. based off personal experiences 😅😅 so it’s very realistic to me even if its not to you!

This technically takes place after this fic but it’s not a big deal in which the order you read it

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You’re an introvert, even if you do get excited really quickly, loud around people you’ve known for a while and love meeting new people. Yet still, you call yourself an introvert, even if that technically still makes you an extroverted introvert. You don't like the sound of an extrovert— someone who thrives off of others' attention and loves to be the center of it, who brightens their days with their friends and always wants to make plans with anyone and everyone. You like the attention sometimes; when Price mentions your name in a conversation, praising your skills, your heart thumps a little louder. Being at the limelight of the party isn't always the worst thing either, especially when everyone laughs at your jokes so hard they double over, grinning so wide you can't help it either. You love your friends, your teammates, even the random soldiers you’ve only exchanged small greetings with. The love for others is held tight in your heart’s vessels, bursting each and every time they make you smile or you just see their presence. You feel so warm and alive when you give them a grin in the mornings, even more so when they seek out your presence throughout the day.

Though, that only applies sometimes— never always.

A familiar soldier could ask you out to lunch and yet your chest begins to twist uncomfortably, like someone is wringing your intestines with their hands. Something screams at you when they say those words, like an invisible line had just been crossed that had been clear in everyone's heads. You had only ever spoken to those soldiers in the gym or around base, there was nowhere else even remotely personal you’d think to take them to. One on one conversations were not common either, since it wasnt that often. It’s not that you don't like them, it’s just.. not right. You’d shake your head apologetically as you force an excuse between your teeth. The regret you then express is a lie, along with the love you felt before— only reduced to a being who could never hold any of those things.

The truth is, you have a sick little parasite in you, it claws at that heart muscle, tearing away the flesh and devouring any love you feel for the people you care about and replacing it with an empty feeling which is always followed by an unreasonable hatred. Your mind grows dark, headaches permanent, as you live through the day as a skeleton of yourself— no longer able to hold any love within you as it slips past your bones in seconds. You don't like the boundaries you’ve mentally set for each person to be crossed, even if it’s a perfectly normal task. In fact, some may even say you’re scared of change. You don’t like to put a label on these things, hell you don't even like to think too hard on these things. It begins to make sense when you sit and reflect, piecing all the reasons for your behaviour together until you hit the final point. Soon you’re done, finally aware of the most significant reasoning behind your antics. The only issue is, being self aware doesn't mean you get any better; no matter how many nights you sit and stare at that mirror, nothing changes.

The only thing you gained was the ability to squash down the parasite from prying eyes. Excuses fall from your lips quickly, no matter how bad you feel when they give you that look of disappointment. It’s not your fault— you know you won't be able to handle an outing like that, you’d get too worked up. Why? You don't need to dwell on it, not right now. This continues for multiple people, multiple soldiers for two weeks, until you're ‘normal’ and you hang around others again. People begin to subconsciously catch on and so your little routine continues to carry on moving so well, staying right on track.

“Sarge? You aint comin’ to team night? Why?”

Ghost stands at the door of your quarters, dressed in his typical training attire whilst you’re sitting in something cozy, made for home wear. You have to fight the urge to cover yourself up. “Oh right.. i, uh..yknow, lot of paperwork to do. Thought i’d stay in.”

You say with a small smile, attempting to ease any concerns he had before but little did you know, he was already growing aware of your little issue, or at least the fact there was one within you. “Paperwork? On a Friday? You should be relaxin’.” You grit your teeth a little, the burning urge inside of your chest returning just like the sick pit in your stomach. It felt so awful fearing just a simple team night out, but it was just so late and you were so tired— you didnt have the energy to be rational the whole time, to think of your next move constantly.

“It’s not a big deal. I’ll come to the next one.” You shrug, turning back to your small desk as you pull another small stack of papers in front of you. His boots thump loudly against the floorboards, sounding like the heavy thump of your heart in your ears. It stops, suddenly, behind your back and your body stiffens as he leans down, looking at the paperwork you’re going through. It’s a lie— naturally, you finished it all. He doesn't even have to stare at you first nor visibly raise a brow; you’re already waiting for him to call out your bluff just as quickly.

“You can just say you want some time alone, yknow.” That catches you off guard, half expecting him to just tell you to stop whining and grab some drinks. His words were still difficult though, how could you easily just say that? Of course, the words itself aren't the hard part, nor speaking it—it’s the implications behind said words. An excuse means you have other things to occupy you, so no one dares to disturb you much after that, however explaining you want some alone time gives way to more questions. Specifically the first being: why? Then they begin to wonder if you’ve been doing okay recently or if you’re struggling with something. You dont like the idea of that at all— people thinking about you in that way. It feels weird, almost like it’s wrong. Sometimes you wished people would just not care, and leave you alone to wallow with yourself.

“Sarge?” You snap out of it, sheepishly scratching the back of your head as he still stands behind you and you turn in your chair, putting the best meek face you can on for the night. “What? No, that’s not why I declined. I’m not really feeling any alcohol today and a new episode of a series I previously binged on the weekend just came out. Sorry.. didn't want to make it seem i was ditching anyone for a show.” Perfect, an awkward grin had tied it all off into a well constructed excuse. Even if it was partially true and this really wasn't fake, it sure felt like everything you did was an act. After all, you really didn't want them to think you were ditching anyone, and you didn't feel like having any alcohol tonight. “A new series” He says gruffly, and you nod with a tight smile, teeth gritting so hard you’re sure they’ll break in a few seconds. “I’ll join you then.”

You blink once, twice, three times in pure utter confusion. Ghost—The Ghost, whose name is rumoured across the battlefield and known for never giving into idle small talk—wants to watch the series you lied about, with you.

You’ve never felt more guilty in your entire life, practically fumbling for a solution. You could just tell the truth, say no and admit you needed to be alone. But this is the first time he’s ever expressed wanting to hang around you, actually together and alone— and miss out on a team night?! He may just want an excuse out of it, but still, you can't just say no now. “Well yeah, i just..” You hate how there’s no easy way out of this in the slightest, torn between saving your own mental health or finally getting close to the teammate who you’ve been on eggshells around for nearly a year now. “My room’s not exactly clean--“

He cuts you off with a gruff, shake of his head, a scoff resounding in his next words, promptly embarrassing you too. “There ya go— knew you wanted to be alone.”

You fumble, not understanding how he managed to pry it out of you so fast, just a simple lie blowing your cover. “I said it wasn't like-“

“See you tomorrow.” He’s gone just as fast as he silenced you, heavy footsteps disappearing out of your door and down the corridors. What you couldn't wrap your head around is how fast he had figured it out and made you confess to your lies that fast— it was a real problem, something you couldn't just let slide. If he knew, did others too?

Unfortunately for you, the very much needed alone time didn’t help as well as it usually did considering this new information has threatened everything that made up the core of your very being—specifically everything keeping you glued together. You just couldn't sit there and possibly relax like you usually did when alone (more specifically think over everything you’ve done wrong until you quite literally fell asleep mid thought)— not when Ghost could clearly read everything you had ever thought about in your life.

That being said, you’ve been a nervous wreck all week, concentrating so hard on looking sane that you’ve barely paid a second of attention to things you should’ve listened to. It’s not like you slipped up regularly, but before that day you were already feeling pretty uneasy and now with still no relief and the added stress, you feel like you really might lose it any second now. Every time you see him, every word exchanged with your teammates—with another person—it eats at you, tugging further on the ropes you’re hanging onto. They’re already been pulled thin, especially since you’ve been put in charge of a group of rookies for the past few weeks now. Of course, you had pulled the short straw when assignments went round because not only did your group love to talk back, but they loved to test every limit by asking the most stupid of questions possible. It’s the second time now you’ve had to lecture one of the rookies about why you can’t just ‘throw a grenade at the enemies’. It’s only temporary, just basic training exercises and medical procedures they need to know until the Officer, who usually oversees them, returns from their sick leave.

You let out a long breath as you enter the small break room, also known as taskforce 141’s meeting room but they’ve let you lounge in here too many times to count. It’s quiet in here, Soap and Gaz both on missions and you assume Ghost must be too. It’s the first time you’ve been able to relax all week, knowing damn well Price is down in London with Gaz. Your shoulders sag, the miserable look returning to cover your features now that you don't need to pull that tight smile anymore. Your chest physically aches from how anxious you’ve been all day, the weight of the day’s mistakes and fears of the future swelling deep in your gut. You know it’s a Friday, know you should just take a long sleep but you can’t help but think about all you have to do for the days to follow. You’re busy the whole day tomorrow, a team outing you can’t deny no matter how much you really do not want to go. Just thinking of all the final work you’ll have to cram in on Sunday makes a splitting pain run along the bumps in your brain. Even your breaths begin to feel shorter, an uncomfortable feeling that you just still cant rid of no matter how long you take deep breaths. Your eyes are weighed down with exhaustion and yet your brain refuses to let you sleep yet. No, you cannot. If you sleep the night away then you’ll only have Sunday left for yourself, and that won't work out, will it?

You pick up the mug you had just stirred, hoping the drink would soothe at least something if not your dehydrated body. Taking a small sip, the hot liquid spills down your throat, leaving a warm feeling in your ribs. “Alone by choice or force?” A gruff voice rings out behind you, along with an arm reaching around to supposedly grab a teabag as well, is enough to make you flinch. Stumbling on your own feet, your mug jolts and the steaming water splashes against your shoulder. If you were worried about someone catching you so vulnerable before, you were certainly terrified now, especially since your skin was burning from a small startle.

“Fuck— sorry—“

Ghost’s gloved hand settle on one side of your waist while the other quickly takes the mug from your hands and places it upon the counter. You cant respond, barely processing the situation and everything just feels like too much and your skin feels so hot, you know he’s seeing you fall apart and still there’s nothing you can do—

Your thoughts snap to a blank when he presses the cold rag against your burning skin. Thankfully the layers of the training uniform stops any severe marks from forming. His other hand rubs your cheek, his mask so close it could brush your face, and you can actually see every speck of brown in his irises. You can't look at him for long though, moving your gaze away quickly, not when you know what you’ve done. For the past week or two you’ve hated him, painting the most horrible picture in your mind. It wasnt even on purpose, you’ve just started seeing everything wrong about him. He doesnt give the rookies much mercy, nor does he particularly entertain any of Soap’s antics even when the situation is pretty lax. He’s boring, he seems to care about nothing but himself somedays, he refuses to let you do something stupid and he never takes that damn mask off even when you’re all supposed to trust one another. You’ve lied to him, yes, forgetting about your hatred when he made you laugh with those gruff remarks. But he’s not the only one— no, you’ve began to hate everyone in this task force, picking at them and every little thing. It’s weird, you don't want to victimize yourself, because you know you’ve done just as much wrong too. But still, somedays you really can't look past the list of things you dislike about your own friends.

“Are you alright? I havent seen you all week.”

Of course he hasn't, you’ve been avoiding them all. It’s nearly impossible to think straight these days and you knew you wouldn’t be able to fake it so naturally, you just stayed away. The more you did it, the better it began to feel. Avoiding them was the solution— you were just the thorn in their side with your tricky mood swings and anxiety always painting them to be the villain. You couldnt just allow this to happen, to destroy them with your issues even if they had no idea about it.

But now, face to face with him, all you feel is unexplainable guilt for everything you’ve done to them— how could you even hate them for a second? His hand is still rubbing at your skin, nudging your face gently upwards just so you’d at least look at him for a second. “Really? The silent treatment now?.” He sighs and you hate yourself, how did you let this spiral to this point— to where he’s apologising to you and yet you wish you could just disappear. Isnt this what you wanted? For everyone to be kind to you? So why are you running— why do you refuse care?

Your lips press together as your teeth bite down on the soft flesh, torn from how much you’ve picked at the skin the whole week. It aches with anxiety, and your teeth hurt from how often you’ve clenched them so hard they scraped against eachother. The only thing you can do is stand there as Ghost fusses over you, trying to get you to move a damn muscle instead of falling apart silently like some kind of broken watch, unable to move forward or backwards. Just still.

“Sarge— snap out of it, look, I'm sorry. Okay?”

His hands are still on you, and you’ve begged for a day where someone would care this much about you and still, you step back, almost afraid. “I’m sorry, Ghost.” You croak out, your hands reaching up to your eyes as you wipe at your skin obsessively, trying to hide and stop anything from leaking. “Why’re you apologising?” He says gruffly, confused by all of this, this sudden onslaught of emotion.

He’s not stupid, he had a feeling you weren't quite yourself this week. Stupidly, he figured you’d just deal with it on your own. That's what everyone did, right? He knows he just takes a breather when he feels a little rough— even Price had his own battles. Comfort isn't a strong point for Ghost, not even when he was Simon Riley, never has and he never thinks it will be. He’s born and bred on violence and the coldness that comes after it, the lack of warmth even as hot blood trickles and emptiness consumes the space where his fellow soldiers should be. So watching you crumble right before him, apologising profusely while your body wracks with shaken breaths, makes something stop in him too. He doesn't know how he’ll do it, but he knows damn well no one fights alone anymore.

“Look at me.”

He says firmly, both his hands landing firmly on your shoulders, one hand even tempted to just force your chin up but you shake your head profusely. “Why not?” He stays patient for you, even if he knows he may have to force you soon— its the least he can do for you. “I cant look at you. Not after everything i did.” He pauses, hands now settling on your jaw in confusion, he knows this is moving towards an interrogation but he has to know. “What are you talking about?! What did you do?”

“I hated all of you! I avoided you all and destroyed our relationship, i fucked it all up.”

With that he cant stand to see this continue, a gloved hand firmly planted over your mouth as the other wraps around your back. He leads you to the couch even as you squirm, not caring in the slightest. He knows he has strength and not comfort, so he’ll use it to shut you up whilst the truth comforts you instead.

“Look at me.” He says sternly and you do, eyes snapping up with wide fear as you look at him. “That’s not true— okay? None of us consider our relationship with you ruined, not one of us has even mentioned you in a bad light at all.” He makes sure your whole body is pressed against the back of the couch, considering that you didnt particularly look as if you could hold yourself up right now.

“Soap has only talked to me about you once recently— he told me you helped him organize the training schedules for the rookies. Told me to thank you for it because he felt he did not express his gratitude enough. Do you understand now? No one’s mad at you– not one of us have even considered anything to have gone wrong.”

His hand grabs your own, settling it on the center of his chest so you can feel the pattern of his breathing, silently praying you’d try and match it. You can only blink at him though, slowly processing his words with each passing second until his hand leaves your mouth and your lips part, breath hitched before you swallow a sharp breath. “I’ve avoided all of you– i’ve been hating all of you.” You choke out, chest clenching with regret and the weight of unreasonable guilt and his other hand moves to hold your face again, his brown eyes piercing into yours with his silence.

“What is like to hate someone?”

“What?”?

“What is it like to hate someone?” He repeats, his thumb pressing gently into the curve of your cheek.

“I-...” You falter, thinking for a moment before your lips part again. “I dont like things that they do— the way they act and everything about them.”

“You’d avoid them too, right? Like that general you hated. Remember when he touched you and you pushed his hand away?

You nod along in agreement, breathing a bit slower to hopefully ease the pressure on your chest at the moment.

“Y-yeah.. i’d express my dislike clearly..”

“So why did you never push me away the past few weeks? You said you avoided us, but you would always speak to us if we needed to. You still helped Soap too.”

You pause, blinking at him in confusion now, you had convinced yourself that you hated them so why did you never.. actually express it?

“You’re also letting me touch you now and last week you didn't want to hang out with us, but you didnt want to hurt our feelings by saying that.”

You’re left silent, baffled and confused because in your head, you were being horrible to them, hating their guts like it was nothing.

“I think… whatever is going on in that head of yours.” He says slowly, tapping at your forehead gently as you look up at him with widened eyes. “You’ve held it in for too long. You’ve dwelled on those thoughts, so self aware of your own anxieties that you’ve distorted reality. You think you’ve done something bad, because you can't understand why you always feel so bad.” His voice is softer than usual, even if his words are still gruff and holds his thick Manchester accent.

Somehow that alone reminds you that Simon has never lied, not even once, to you. That stern voice of his is straightforward, doesnt mess around and forces his way through any problem. Just like he had just pushed himself to the root of your mind and destroyed your seeds of doubt.

“You’re allowed to talk to us you know. I have a funny feeling you’re scared o’ somethin’. Not sure what just yet.”

He doesnt force you to respond, just speaking his thoughts even if that’s what you usually do when you’re together. The couch creaks as he stand up, pulling you to get up aswell beside him. He places a hand on the crook of your back, gently encouraging you to begin walking towards the door. “Cmon, back to my room. Lets get you cleaned up properly.”

Before you know it, you’re sitting against the headboard of his bed, something you had only felt months ago when you first came here, scared and confused over a stupid hornet. You trusted him to help you then, but you dont understand why you suddenly felt that fear again. Meanwhile, your shirt is half off, Ghost sat on the bed beside you as he inspects the burns on your chest from the tea. It’s harsh, the skin reddened but not enough to be something serious thankfully. He presses a cool towel against it, soothing the stinging skin but he knows it’ll fade out soon enough. You’re wearing his old shirt, and he gave you some comfortable sweatpants too for good measure. You just watch all his moves so quietly, feeling like a ghost yourself in this moment from how detached you are. It’s weird, feeling so much yet nothing at the same time.

“Nothing too bad, should be alright by the morning.” He hums, lifting the fresh mug of tea he brewed for you and brings it to your lips for you to sip before he steals some for himself. “Is your chest still tight?” You blink, not expecting him to ask that of all things because you hadnt exactly mentioned that part and yes, it was. “How did you know..?” Your hand reaches out, silently asking for more of the tea he graciously lets you sip, unable to fathom how he brews it so perfectly each time. “You were clutching at your chest before and your breaths are a little shorter than they should be.” He’s seen straight through you again so you slump your shoulders and just nod quietly. “Yeah, it’s really tight. It’s always like this and i dont know how to make it stop.”

His gloved hand reaches out, gently rubbing at your chest thus making you sink a little back into the pillows. Before he can respond, you speak up with a quiet confession. “That day, when you came ‘round, I was upset. You said you wanted to watch the series with me and I felt so bad. I didn't want to give up my only chance of spending time with you, but I knew my head couldn't take it.”

He nods along quietly, letting you reveal it all to him. “T-then you figured me all out and i got scared— i didnt want someone to know everything about me because i didnt want to be a problem. I want someone to listen but i dont want to be seen as something different. I just.. i dont know how to handle all of this. I dont feel like the person i am when i look in the mirror.”

The strangest thing of all is that it didnt actually take you long to figure it out. You knew all along, of course, but when you’re fighting against yourself, you’re supporting both sides and so a part of you decided not to dwell on a certain bit of information too much. The reason for that to be pushed aside is no part of you wanted to face it.

Your heart always secretly wished someone would find out— that someone would push past the walls you’ve banged so hard against even if they were crafted by the webs of your brain. You prayed and prayed that they’d read through it all, express their concern and one day, one day you’d be saved from this hellish feeling. It was a common daydream for you and yet you were terrified of it. If someone knew, there was no guarantee they’d follow the fantasy. They could ridicule you, or they couldnt be able to comfort you at all, maybe they’d try and it wouldnt even do anything or maybe, just maybe— they wouldnt give a damn about it. What happened then? If that daydream was real, and that was the final outcome, there was no turning back in time. It seemed like only one person would ever figure you out, after all, no one had up until this point.

But then Simon became aware, and you got terrified. You hid away because you were too scared to know his reaction to your problems, even more so his reaction to you. You wanted someone to help, you really did, and yet your brain feared to know the uncertain future of it.

His ungloved hands card through your hair, the callouses gentle against your scalp as he slowly scratches at it. “You need to speak with us, and the others. Your feelings are real— hell, we all have our doubts. I used to feel it before every mission. Soap began to tell me his, then Gaz joined too. Price always looks for a way to solve it, and i give my two pence when i feel i want to. Just cause you feel different, doesnt mean you are. Plenty o’ people felt the same way you did before.”

“Really..? I’m not like.. crazy?”

“No, never. Even if you do some stupid shit sometimes.”

That makes you finally crack a real smile, even if its small and you’re unable to stifle the small chuckle that bubbles in your throat and although he’s the epitome of stoicism, he smiles beneath the mask. “Everyone’s out on a mission, ya can't leave me alone tonight. C’mere.”

You settle yourself in the crook of arm as he lays back against the bed with you, propping up his laptop on his lap as he searches for a good movie.

“You better report back to me everyday this week, alright? I want you here at nine pm sharp, dressed in your pajamas. That’s an order.”

Thinking over all your previous daydreams of how this would eventually go, this was far from how you expected it to be. Firstly, you never expected Ghost, nor it to happen in the military at all. Perhaps you thought maybe later in life it’d occur or maybe Soap or Price would figure it out. Either way, you arent actually upset over it. No one would be your fairy tale saviour in life, coming forward to fight the demons that plagued your head all the time. Even so, the way Ghost had shut you up and calmed you down makes you think he’s pretty damn close to being one, even if knights usually dont scoff at their princess.

He doesnt even look like he’d be willing to give a little kid a hug, but still, you couldnt be happier with how this turned out in the end. Compared to fairytale princes and men in the movies, you knew Ghost and you knew he was serious— so if he wanted to help you, he would. And no, he wouldnt ridicule you throughout the process, nor ever feel like you’ve been misheard. You know that if you spoke to Ghost, he’d listen earnesty and never forget, carrying that around with him even if those anxieties eventually died out.

You knew he’d always linger around, never forgetting you or leaving you behind. Just like a Ghost.

“Okay, i promise i will.”

You say softly, pressing your cheek against the curve of his chest, the faint thump of his heartbeat drowning out any lost thoughts. He was your support, and no matter how bad it got for you, no matter how many times you get overwhelmed and lash out, not even when you avoid everyone— he’d never break away. No, he would always be beside you.

[personwhowrites]

Task Force 141 reactions + König to you putting stickers on them.

Fluff/ slight gn!reader x everyone.

König

At first he doesn’t notice, his too focus on something else. His mind wondering off to a comfortable space.

When he does notice it’s because you stand up and move closer to his face. He panics slightly thinking your going to hurt him. (Trauma)

When he notices the pad of stickers he stares at you. There is a thick silence that follows along that makes you quickly stop and give him a very nervous smile.

“..You have a unicorn?” König asks in a sort of whimper. “..think it would look nice..on me..?”

You smile to his words and show him your collection of stickers you brought this trip. He happily helps you put some on his uniform. Slightly chuckles to the fact how excited you are.

When often alone with you he would hand you random sticker packets he bought for you. Then sit down and wait for you to start your “artwork”. He also puts stickers on you if you’re comfortable enough to let him. He respects your personal space as you do his.

John “Captain” Price

His busy doing some report about an accident Soap caused with explosives again. You bored take out your secret supply of stickers and slowly open it.

Price heard the wrapper and stare at you. A long lingering stare before he sigh and placed his pen down. He pats his lap, you smile and rush over to him with your stickers at hand.

“You want a rainbow or a storm cloud?” You ask pointing at the stickers. “What do you think?”

“Whatever looks best on me doll.” Price says with a chuckle. “And whatever distracts you the most.”

With that you immediately start putting stickers on him. His arms, face, beard and even his hat. Price is one to not care what type of stickers you use on him. Just as long your distracted he is okay with it.

Price lets you put stickers on him very often. Even in front of the group or in meeting to get your mind distracted. He knows that you should be focusing at the task at hand, but he can’t bring himself to do so.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle was in his own head, playing on his phone. Unaware of your intensions to ruin him with stickers as you did with Price. He was aware of your behavior with Price and didn’t mind it as long no one else was harm.

When you suddenly appear next to him confusion took over. Kyle didn’t know why you would be near him if you two barely spoke a word to each other. Yet when he saw the stickers at hand he pulled another chair to him and extended his arm.

“Try to not get something too dark on me.” Kyle says with a warm smile. “Got it?”

You nodded and began to work. He seemed a little uneasy by your cold hands, but soon got used to it. Once done he would take a picture and smile at you. After that, putting stickers on him became a habit, Price of course secretly got jealous but found it okay later seeing that’s what got you and Kyle to talk more.

John “Soap” Mactavish

He was watching TV with Ghost. You were on your phone, messing with a game you found interesting. Ghost got up and left to smoke a cigar leaving you to Soap. You looked at soap and smiled.

When Soap saw you smile at him, he got worried. Soon you randomly pulled out stickers under a pillow and rushed at him. Soap soon also pulled stickers out the couch he was been wanting to use.

“Looks like we both have a secret hobby.” Soap says with a cheeky smile. “I bet I have twice as much as you.”

“No you don’t!” You say smiling wider as you unwrap the stickers.

You later found out Soap collects stickers and has been waiting for this moment with you. After hearing what you did to Kyle, excitement filled his body knowing he was going to be next for sure. He would hide stickers around the base so you two can decorate each other. Sometimes going overboard.

When alone you two make sure to cover each of your arms with stickers. It annoys Price and the others, but they get over it knowing it makes the two of you bond better. Soap buys you stickers from all over the world to make sure you never run out of them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Ghost was always alert so you didn’t even try to sneak a sticker on him. Fear silent swept you as he looked at you from the corner of his eyes and watched your every move. Yet somehow you finally managed to have some bravery.

Ghost was reading a book on the couch. You were next him, stickers at hand and you stare at him, a long stare that finally got him to nod.

“Fine…Just not the mask.” Ghost says in a harsh tone. “Understand?”

You nod quickly and watch at Ghost puts his hand on your lap. You excitedly turn to open your bright stickers. Ghost sets his book down and watches you decide carefully what stickers to use on him. He even points out ones he wants.

You find out later if he never takes the stickers off. He just sets his glove over them and returns to you when they finally fall off or he washed them off. Ghost is one to soon buy you some stickers that fit more his theme and everyone’s theme.

Ghost does visit you late at night for stickers. Even if you’re tired he wouldn’t care much, he wants those stickers back on him one way or another.

[aestheticanimegirl15]

You want to know someone who would be an absolute menace in the kitchen? No its not Johnny who always is sneaking palmfulls of flour to throw at you or leaving flour marks on your tits or ass. No, it's not Simon who is always hovering around you and manages to stand directly in the way of every counter or ingredient you need. Kyle is actually pretty helpful, handing you what you need or taste testing it in-between wandering touches.

It's Price. Not because of anything that he does but because of what he doesn't do. He just stands there watching every move you make with crossed arms as he smokes a cigar by the only open window in the kitchen. Needless to say, it's irritating. You always tell him that if he is gonna be in the kitchen, the lest he could do is help. But he never dose, he just stands there or sits down at the dining room table like some sort of king and just watches.

Not only does it irritate you, but it's the way that he looks at you that is the real menace of the whole situation. Staring at you like you are a better meal than the one you're preparing. He keeps raking his eyes over you in a way that makes you squirm because you know exactly what he's looking at. It makes you feel like some sort of meek housewife whose only purpose in life is to serve her husband. Which at times doesn't seem like such a bad idea, until it's like this.

The way he just watches you makes a heat bloom in your core, as another one blooms in your cheeks. It makes you squirm as you stir the sizzling vegetables in the cast iron, thighs pressing together underneath the (his) shirt you were wearing. He knows what he's doing too, wearing such a cocky smirk on his lips that makes you not able to decide if you want to smack him or kiss him. But he never acts on the way he's making you feel. Oh no, he waits until after the two of you are done eating.

He knows you won't fight it when he pulls you into his lap once you finish cleaning the table off. The bastard knows how worked up he made you from all his staring. He'll mumble something about desert, and if you actually made one, he'll shake his head

"Not the desert. I'm wanting, sweetheart." He'll reply, and then next thing you know he's got, you splayed out on the kitchen table with his head absolutely buried in your thighs. If it weren't for the fact you just fed him a full meal, you would have thought he was starving with the way he was devouring you, moaning and groaning like he was the one on the receiving end. Mumbling praises about both you and your cooking skills, no matter how good or bad they are. And he won't stop until your conculsing under him while stars dance across your vision. Then you hear the fumbling of a belt buckle and a scrape of a chair across the floor

"Now that I'm full, let's have some fun yea?"

So yea. Out of every one of them, he's the biggest menance, always making sure you're waking up the next day with a sore body and a limp.