#ghost x masc!reader

[captainjamster]

hihi!! I just seen your post about writing things for those who feel under represented in the community; and I was wondering... could you do one where Simon takes care of trans masc!reader on a really bad day of endometriosis pain?

Hey there anon, you're the very first request! Thank you so much for asking! This was originally going to be just 800 words, don't ask how we ended up at almost 3k lol. Sorry it took a few days, I hope you enjoy the fic! It's also on AO3 :)

Pairing(s): Ghost x transmasc!Reader w/ endometriosis (SFW) Warnings: Blood, menstruation, two off-handed mentions of sex Wordcount: 2.8k Summary: Simon takes care of your morning, despite your attempts to soldier on through a painful menstrual cycle. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I hope this is enough "taking care" for you! Reader is indeed transmasc, but point of transition and upper anatomy is for you to decide. I might revise this one and upload an improved version, change the level of debilitation, add in HRT and increase how much Ghost does for you. But for now, here you go!! I think of Ghost as someone who conveys his love and affection through acts of service, and he'd die happy if you let him quietly manage every need you have. <3

Endometriosis currently affects around 10% - around 190 million – of women and girls of reproductive age. This statistic does not include the rate of endometriosis in non-women individuals with female reproductive genitals, which inflates the number even further. Despite the existing prevalence, endometriosis is underdiagnosed and overlooked within those who suffer from it, and this becomes even worse within trans individuals. I hope this fic can provide some love and representation for those struggling, especially my trans ppl <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

A dull throb in your stomach, pressed against the mattress is the first thing you register as consciousness slowly trickles through the thick fog of sleep. The sheets stick to your thighs as you try to roll over. Simon’s bulky, warm figure isn’t there to stop you from rotating flat on your back, encroaching onto his cold, empty spot.

You crack an eye open, looking at his vacancy in disappointment. The room is filled with an early, pale glow that peeks from around your curtains, brushing against the frame with each soft breeze from the open window. It’s not unusual for Simon to be up so early, but you miss the opportunity for morning cuddles.

A particularly sharp contraction in your stomach breaks the peaceful moment, your hand coming up to knead at the sore, bloated flesh. The last few days had left you in a pool of pain, the familiar ache creeping into your stomach and worming its way down your legs and up your back. Accompanied by the unsettling nausea and fatigue that wears you out even during a nap, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that your least favourite friend would be making a visit this week.

Rolling back onto your stomach, you sit with the uncomfortable sensation throbbing through your midriff. It takes a moment for the damp, coldness beneath your pelvis to register, contrasted to the dry sheet your back was just resting on. Your eyes fly open, pushing yourself up and back onto your knees with a pained groan.

Even such a simple movement has a strong wave of pain flare through you, but your dismay at the mess staining your sheets is stronger. Your friend has arrived earlier and heavier than expected. The dark grey sheet is soaked in patches of black, tacky enough that you know it’s had more than plenty of time to steep into the fabric – thank god for the mattress protector Simon persuaded you into getting for other activities. Looking down, your skin is dappled with red, crusty and dried around the hairs scattering your stomach. The worst is pooled between your thighs, boxer-briefs drenched with a sharp iron scent that crinkles your nose.

Pushing through the wave of dizziness persuading you to the floor, you grab at the blankets frustratedly. You check them meticulously, scrutinizing them for even a speck of blood, but they’ve been far luckier in their escape of your mess. Throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, you set into action, working to hide the messy consequences of your cycle.

There’s no real need for the urgency that you move with, especially as every aching fibre in your body screams at you to slow down. Rationally, you know Simon wouldn’t react poorly to your calamity in the slightest, even if you asked him to change the sheets while you cleaned yourself up. He’s stayed with you during other cycles, never blinking an eye at anything menstruation throws at you. Yet he’s not here to help, and interrupting whatever he’s doing just to do something you feel capable of seems selfish. On another level, you don’t want Simon to see this right now. Frustration eats at you – for being stuck with this, for being surprised with an early cycle, and maybe just a little bit because you really wanted those goddamn cuddles. You’ve wrestled three of the four corners off when Simon catches you stripping the bed, a towel drapes around his neck, shirt damp with sweat that still drips from his hair.

“What’re y’doin’, handsome?” He rumbles, an eyebrow raised as he stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes flicker between the blankets clumped on the floor and the sheet you’re mid-tugging off the mattress.

Though his question is fair, the obviousness of your situation, and your irrational irritation makes it feel like he’s rubbing your misfortune in. Gritting your teeth, you wrench a little harder than needed at the fabric. “S’my fault, I’ll chuck it in the wash.” You grumble, pulling up the mattress to unhook the last corner, ignoring how your back groans with the motion. Simon makes a noise of protest, not unkind as he snatches the sheet you’re trying to bundle in your arms. “Don’t be daft, mate.”

His tone is flat and slightly exasperated as he pulls the sheet from you, looking at the myriad of stains on your front, glazing over the angry expression you’re giving him at his little quip. Before you can open your mouth to say something, he turns you by your shoulders, escorting you to the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You huff, taking your turn to ask an obvious question as you let him steer you to the ensuite. A grunt is your only response as he pushes you through the door, his warm hand leaving your shoulders to pull back the liner fully. You watch as Simon turns the taps, listening to the pipes creak as water begins to dribble from the head. He doesn’t make any move to pull off his sweaty athleisure, just fiddles with the tap, turning it much hotter than Simon would usually take his showers – oh.

Taking the hint, you pull off your boxers, wincing as the cold air hits your now-exposed, sticky skin. Simon’s hand is under the water, breaking the droplets’ fall as the water warms, but his attention is now focused on you. When you straighten up, tossing your briefs to the hamper, he meets your unhappy look with a question.

“Pancakes?”

You blink at him, indignance still plastered on your face in a grumpy scowl as your brain struggles through the pain fogging your thoughts, and Simon just raises an eyebrow.

“Eggs ‘n toast? Take-out?’

A moment of bemusement passes as you think for a second, until your mouth drops into a little o-shape, and guilt tints your cheeks red. “Oh.”

Simon huffs affectionately, echoing your “oh” as he pulls his hand back, waiting for you to answer.

“Pancakes?” You mumble, looking up at him through your lashes. The corner of his lips tug into what you’ve learnt is a forgiving smile, and he leans over your figure to press a soft, unexpected kiss to your forehead. His lips are soft – good, he’s had a drink after working out – and the appetising, musky smell of his BO fills your mouth as he leans in.

“Pancakes it is, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as he moves out the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

Before anything can drip from you and create an additional mess you can’t be bothered with, you climb into the showerbath, making sure the plug is hung up to avoid any water filling the tub. He’s perfected the temperature, and you feel like just lying down in the empty tub as your body goes boneless, feeling water drizzle down on you from the showerhead. It’s just enough to soothe the way your body aches, but not enough to make you feel any dizzier. By the time you’ve finished in the shower, your skin feels red and tender, but the heat has temporarily worked your muscles into a sleepy stupor. Though you swear the scent of metallic fetor lingers on your skin no matter how many scents you use, any visible remnant has been washed down the drain.

Pulling the liner back, a towel sits on the vanity, folded neatly with two painkillers resting atop the fabric’s surface and a half-full glass next to it. On the other side, a pair of your boxers and one of Simon’s shirts hangs from the edge. You didn’t even notice Simon slip in to leave them there – despite how long you’ve been with him, it’s still unnerving that such a big man can move without a sound.

Scooping the pills up, you take them with a mouthful of water, before unfurling the towel to dry yourself off. The ordeal is short, pausing to pull on your briefs and a sanitary product of choice before you finish drying your tender legs, hanging the towel to dry over the rail nailed to the wall.

A whiff of sweet, buttery batter permeates the bedroom as you step back into it, mentally bracing for a brutal war of ‘how many sides can I get on before one pops off’ with your goddamn super king sized bed. However, surprise stops you in your tracks, feet stuttering as you find the floor empty of blankets. They’ve returned to the bed, which has been made with a rehearsed, militarized perfection, corners tucked tightly in with barely a ripple across the taut fabric.

With one chore covered, you grab the hamper from the bathroom, walking out into the living room to the source of the smell. Simon is hidden in the kitchen, his back to the entrance as he stands over the stove, but the sound of your feet padding around the corner raises his head.

His hair is light and fluffy, the tips still damp as he puts down the spatula, walking over to take the hamper from you despite your objections. The musky sweat coating him earlier has been replaced with the artificial, clean scent of shampoo and soap - you have no clue how he’s managed to change the bed, wash himself in the spare bathroom, and make a start on breakfast before you finished your own shower.

Resigning, you move to the stove and take up the spatula, patting the pancake as bubbles rise to its surface. Barely a minute passes before Simon’s arms slip around you, taking the spatula back and letting it drop to the counter to interlock your fingers.

“Independent this morning, pet?” He murmurs, carefully placing his other hand over your stomach, feeling as it rises and dips with your laugh. The warmth that radiates from his palm is ridiculous, seeping into the sore muscles that are starting to ache again.

“C’mon, you’d call me feeding myself independent.” You tease, leaning back until your head meets his chest. It shakes as he huffs a quiet laugh, bouncing you slightly before answering.

“When I could be feedin’ you? Don’t reckon I’m wrong.” He grunts, wrapping your hand around the handle, his own still encompassing yours, smiling into your hair as he helps you flip the pancake with a flick of your wrist.

You give his retort an overly dramatic groan, but his attention is captured by an electronic beeping that sets off. The moment he pulls away, your body misses his heat, watching him open the microwave door to pull out a very familiar, tear-shaped heap of fabric. You step away from the stove, reaching out to take it from him as he extends it towards you. The cartoon-ish looking figure of a little ghost heatpack is hot to the touch, emitting the faintest smell of lavender and chamomile, and he gives you a small smile as you wrap your arms around it, holding it against your torso.

“You think of everything, huh?” You laugh, heart squeezing as he answers you with a lop-sided grin and turns back to the stove, pouring in the last of the batter.

“Not everythin’ – how ‘bout you make a cuppa and sit down, hm?” He rumbles, gesturing to near the fridge. Two cups are already coupled together on the counter, and you skip boiling the kettle again as lazy tendrils of steam already climb from its spout. Grabbing a couple of tea bags, you tuck the heating pack under your arm, filling up the mugs as you listen to the sizzling of the pan. Simon gives you a quiet “thanks, love” as you set down his mug next to the stove, but when you reach for a plate to start dishing out the cooked pancakes, you’re interrupted by a chiding “ah!” and large hands turning you around. “Go sit down love, I got this.”

The look you give Simon over your shoulder does nothing to sway his rejection of your help, big brown eyes staring back at you with an expectant look as he gently nudges you to the exit. Though it’s tempting to ignore him and stay, the effort of staying upright is slowly sapping any hint of energy you recovered in the shower.

Bringing your drink out and flopping yourself onto the couch, your legs scream in gratitude when your weight is finally shifted from them. The small ghost sits across your abdomen, radiating a relaxing warmth that soothes the muscles cramping violently underneath it.

Though it’s barely minutes that pass, Simon comes out to find you curled in the couch’s corner, wrapped up around the heating pad with a slight frown in your brow. The gentle clink of the ceramic against the coffee table stirs you from your light sleep, cracking your eyes open as Simon sinks into the couch next to you, his plate balanced on his thighs.

“Sorry love,” he murmurs apologetically, raising an arm to let you bury into him. You jump at the opportunity, shuffling yourself to press against his side, and a content relaxation falls upon you as his arm covers you protectively. Without moving you too much, Simon leans forwards to grab your plate, resting it on your lap and tucking a fork into your hand.

Looking at the pancakes, he’s given you an extra one in your stack, drizzled generously with your favourite toppings. Your chest squeezes at the sight, each carefully placed topping another homage to the tenderness that your lover struggles to verbalise.

“You’ve done so much for me this morning, Si.” You start remorsefully, eyes downcast to your stack of pancakes. With a grunt, Simon reaches for his fresh mug perched precariously on the couch’s arm, using a spare finger to hit the on button of the remote sitting next to it. “Not allowed to give my special boy some love when he’s roughed up?”

You give him a good-natured huff, digging into his side playfully. “Make it sound like I’m wounded, Si.” Simon snorts, pulling his eyes away from the TV to shoot you an amused look. “With the amount of blood, y’could’ve convince me.”

You laugh at the comment, letting the light warmth fill your chest until it’s dampened by the unspoken guilt still sitting miserably on your conscience. “Sorry for bein’ grumpy earlier,” you mumble.

Simon hums, pulling you tighter as he cuts into a pancake with his fork, raising it to your mouth. “Kinda figured you wouldn’t be top shape after seein’ the blood, s’alright pet. Y’ve told me that this shit hurts more than normal.”

Taking the mouthful, you give him a small, grateful smile, reaching for your own plate and cutlery to share a piece back. The pancakes are light and fluffy, not heavy enough to upset your stomach, but enough to be filling for how insatiable your appetite can get. “Thanks, Si. Still appreciate you’re patient with me, though.”

He hums thoughtfully as he chews, gently rubbing his thumb mindlessly against your thigh. “Patient? Nah. Johnny said y’deserve a ring for bein’ patient with my shit after deployment – he’d take the piss if I told him you’re thankin’ me for being patient.”

The way Simon drops the idea of marriage is so calm and casual, a significant contrast to how it makes your heart soars in your chest. Reigning in your excited response, you take another mouthful, giving him a grin that can’t quite hide how much you like the idea. “Hope you told him how useful this little guy has been,” you gesture to the ghost on your lap, “because it’s definitely my second favourite ghost since he bought it.”

The narrowed glare that Simon gives the plush heating pad has you giggling around a forkful of pancakes, looking at him with light-hearted exasperation. “Oh c’mon, I said second favourite!” You chuckle, watching him roll his eyes with a grumble.

“Yeah, yeah,” his tone is low and playfully grumpy, rumbling through you. “S’long as it’s me you’re cuddlin’ at night, ‘m not havin’ a toy steal my man.”

Mindful of your plates, you wrap an arm across his chest and ignore how your stomach complains at the movement, squeezing him lightly. “Never, Si. My favourite ghost.”

With a satisfied noise, he looks down at you, a mischievous half-grin on his face. “Good, that thing couldn’t fuck you half as well.”

The cheeky remark gets him a deeper dig in the side, enough to pry a grunt from him as he squirms, though he’s still careful with how much he jostles you. Silence quickly falls over you, Simon watching the news with a protective arm around you. He sips at his tea as you finish your plate, running a hand through your hair every now and then, placing a few kisses to your scalp.

When you’ve finished your meal, you put the plate on the coffee table, reaching for Simon’s to stack them together. Reaching forwards has you wincing, a pulsating pain in your core that makes your tailbone ache, and Simon swoops in to stop you in your tracks.

“Sit your ass down already,” he grouches, pushing you back into the couch as he scoops up your plate. “Told you, you’re bein’ dependent today.”

[gofishygo]

everyone always talks about ‘medic reader’ this and ‘teammate reader’ that but what abt weapons engineer/mechanic reader ?

just a silly little fella who helps out the 141 with their weapons when they go out of whack, who works very closely with the team to coordinate certain weapons for specific missions .

they’d probably have a really close bond with soap , both having fun with testing demolitions together . who’s able to add in ideas and carry conversations with you when you ramble on about weapons . johnny pulls you close to him when they get startled from the loud noise of an explosion , laughing a little at how they excuse their sudden vulnerability with ‘not expecting it to be that loud’.

price who seeks them out when he’s having issues with his cm901, having to endure your age-long lectures about not accidentally slamming the barrel to hard. he subconsciously makes sure the brush his hand over yours when he finally retrieves his now-fixed weapon.

yeah nyways weapon mech! reader has my heart

[zvdvdlvr]

Simon Riley loves kissing. Or rather, kissing you. 

He loved the way you would smile whenever he pressed his lips to your cheek. He loved the way you would laugh and try to push him away when he occasionally peppered kisses all over your face. He loved the way you would tremble when he kissed the soft skin under your navel as he trailed down even further. 

But most of all, Simon especially loved the way you would look a little dazed after he kisses you on the mouth. Your eyes a little hazy, lips flushed and puffy… You were absolutely picturesque in Simon’s eyes. 

[iceman-soup]

cumdrunk ghost pretty please? w/ begging and dirty talk pleease?? thank you have a good day 😌

ohmygod YES okayy

amab masc!reader x bot!ghost

You've lost count of how many times you've finished inside Simon at this point, but you both know it's a lot. His legs are shaking but still clinging on to where he's wrapped them around your waist, cock leaking against his stomach as he claws at your back, craning his neck to bury his head in your shoulder whilst he sobs. You're buried deep in him, not moving and it's driving him up the wall, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks as he tries desperately to get your attention.

"Please, move, love, please," he keeps whispering, nipping and kissing at your neck but you just won't keep fucking him, instead teasing him relentlessly as he whimpers.

And you've got this stupid grin on your face as you murmur about how "big, scary Ghostie, begging and crying just for me, yeah?" He nods, mumbled begs falling from his damp lips, brown eyes gazing desperately into yours as his head falls back against the pillow again, pulling your face down to kiss him.

Whispered praise and pleas escape him, whines of "you're doin' so good, so so good, please move, please," in between him trying to shove his tongue down your throat as if he's attempting to inhale you.

"My gorgeous boy, looking so pretty right here," you murmur, finally starting to rock your hips back and forth again, making him groan loudly, back arching as he clings onto you.

"Faster, faster, sir, please." You kiss him again, biting at his lower lip to make him whine when you speed up. "Gonna cum again, please, please-" he's cut off by his own moans as his load spurts out over his abdomen, new tears of overstimulation falling as you quicken your pace.

"Didn't even touch you," you chuckle, kissing his cheek softly. "You want to stop, or are you gonna let me cum too, princess?" Simon grabs at your face, shaking hands desperately trying to pull your lips to his.

"Gonna- gonna let you- you cum," he stutters, groaning loudly when you do, then finally pulling out, kissing him again and rolling over so he can lie on top of you, face nestled into the crook of your neck. You both catch your breath for a few moments before you sit up a little, his head resting on your stomach as you look down over his sweaty body, thighs covered in the milky fluids as he mumbles nonsense, eyes closed and body relaxed, your sweet boy drifting off to sleep before you even get the chance to wipe him down or bathe him.

[fanoftheimagines]

My Breath through the Deep Water

Pairing: (pre-relationship) Edwin Payne/Charles Rowlan/Ghost!Reader

Reader Gender: AFAB Trans Masc / Non-Binary

CW: pre-canon, reader is dead, neglectful/abusive parents, chronic illness & anemia, implied periods, yearning (everyone is yearning, everyone is oblivious), discussion of spousal murder & abuse, supernatural activity, Death & Dream cameo, you can pry Y/N from my cold dead hands

Word Count: 3,098

Summary: Dying in your sleep was supposed to guarantee your spot in the Dreaming. But when you end up stuck as a ghost on the mortal plane, you go to the only ghosts who can help: the Dead Boy Detectives.

A/N: I have fallen for the dead sad bois. This show is perfect and I am attached to them now. Title from Deep Water by American Authors. The reader’s backstory is based off my chronically ill childhood. Reader is meant to be around the boys’ age. I think this probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, so cheers to that!

Shout out to lilacclorceta for beta reading this for me!

Masterlist | AO3 Link

--- 1992 ---

The wooden door with a windowpane stood right in front of you. You took in a deep breath – one you arguably didn’t need anymore – and walked through. There were two ghostly teenage boys inside, one sitting at the desk in the middle of the room and one fiddling with the clearly-marked cases board. A nervous ball wadded in your stomach. Asking for help was never your forte, but you were at your wits end.

“Um…” You mumbled, “Excuse me?” The two boys looked up. The one in a suit and bowtie raised an eyebrow while the one in red gave you a welcoming smile. “Are you the Dead Boy Detectives?”

“That we are!” The one in red said, before turning to look at the other. He nodded. “Come in. I’m Charles, this is Edwin. How can we help you?”

You stepped further in carefully. “I… um… I need your help figuring out why I’m here…”

Edwin – the one in the suit and bowtie – nodded and gestured to the spot in front of the desk. “Please, we’ll need to know everything.”

Charles walked around and sat on the edge of the desk, angled toward Edwin. Again, you took a breath you didn’t need. “Death never came for me and I… I have no idea why…” Charles’ face flooded with sympathy. Edwin’s remained blank. “Thing is,” you hesitated, looking over their heads as you spoke, “I know where I was supposed to go, technically speaking. But I just… didn’t.”

Edwin quirked a brow in intrigue. “And you do not have any unfinished business? You’re positive?”

“No, that’s the thing. If I do, I don’t know what it is.” You responded, looking to him.

“So, what happened?” Charles probed. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is, how’d you die?”

You sighed and looked at your hands. Death never came for you. Just another sad occurrence in your already depressing life. A sick, painful, lonely life. You’d died as you’d lived: alone. Neglectful parents combined with a severe bleeding disorder left you sickly and weak until the very end. No one rushed to help you, always taking their time to try anything. Months before any medication to help with your heavy bleeding, and months more until a single blood transfusion, losing more and more lifeblood every day. As you grew weaker, you spent more time sleeping. It’s there you discovered an escape: the Dreaming. You spent your short years stuck at home, visiting the Dreaming to help with the ache. Your friends – if you could call them that, given they were dreams – said you’d stay in the Dreaming were you to die there. It was a hopeful outlook, given your rotten luck in life.

And then you died in your sleep. You were in the Dreaming at the time. You blinked, felt a strange tug at your core, then opened your eyes to your bedroom, your pale corpse lifeless under the covers.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek as you told them your story. You quickly wiped it away with your thumb. “Sorry, still fresh.”

“Hey, don’t worry. Only natural, isn’t it? Dying alone sounds scary, I’m sorry you went through that.” Charles said.

Edwin’s face was twisted in fascination and curiosity. “Charles, a word?” He interrupted, facing Charles.

He dragged him into the closet before he could respond. Their voices were muffled through the door. You fiddled with your fingers, anxiety swelling in your throat. “I can pay!” You suddenly burst, voice just loud enough you hoped they could hear you.

Charles stepped out first and sat back on the desk. Edwin stood straight – his hands clasped all proper – next to him. “We’ll take your case.”

“Oh, thank you.” A relieved breath left you.

“Now, you said you could pay?” He continued inquisitively.

You nodded. “Right, well I inherited a collection of rare books on the supernatural from my grandmother. The books are still there. I don’t think my parents are ready to move on yet, honestly. They’re yours, if you help me.”

“Oh, brills! Edwin’s always looking to add more to his collection, right Edwin?” Charles smiled – almost smitten, if you didn’t know any better – at Edwin.

Edwin fought back a smile. “Yes, Charles, thank you.” He nodded his head toward you. “Now, let us get started.”

--- 1999 ---

“I come bearing gifts, my friends!” You smiled widely as you walked through the office mirror. A thick manila file was in your hand.

“You are aces, you are!” Charles laughed, taking the file from your hand. “Oh, look at this, old Mr. Brewer’s got some nasty skeletons, eh?” Edwin peered over his shoulder.

“Interesting. So, he caused the death of a young woman 48 years ago, and yet she didn’t seek revenge until now?” Edwin remarked before looking up at you. “Well done.”

Charles handed the file to him and swung an arm around your shoulder. “That’s a compliment in Edwin’s book, right there.” He squeezed you against him. The comforting pressure had you leaning in further.

“Thank you. I’m glad I could help.” You smiled, glancing at the pretty boy with his arm around you. “Gotta give you a reason to keep me around, right?” It was a half-joke – something frankly pitiful if you were honest with yourself.

“Nah, none of that,” he chuckled, squeezing you again, “we like you, don’t we? Besides, your case isn’t solved. Not a good look, if you ask me.”

“Yes, you’ve become a valuable member of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. We’d both be completely lost without you.” Edwin snarked, half sarcastically. “Now, did you happen to learn anything else from this source of yours?”

You smirked. “Apparently, Brewer’s nephew bought a typewriter from a seller of supernatural artifacts last year.”

“And, let me guess, she was the original owner? Oh, that’s brills.” Charles leaned over Edwin, practically resting his chin on his shoulder. His chocolate brown eyes scanned the page. “Haunted objects are practically our bread and butter.”

Your gaze rested on him for a moment before you tore it away. You dug out a scrap of paper out of your inner jacket pocket. “Yeah. My source, as you so called her, said this would help with sorting it out.” You handed it to Edwin.

He nodded and scanned it. “Wonderful, I’ll get to work on this. You two do some leg work, find out what you can about this scorned woman.”

--- SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET ---

Charles and you walked into the house. It had been abandoned after Thomas Brewer’s death. His only living family was his nephew, who didn’t want to live in the city. The only ones hanging around seemed to be Brewer himself and this unknown woman. It was dark. The windows were drawn to keep out street light. The furniture was covered with white tarps. Blood stains surrounded the single armchair in the living room. Other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.

The two of you split up. You took to the main floor, Charles upstairs. You skirted around the red-stained floor. The bookcase left of the telly was practically overflowing with books. The old man had clearly collected. And there, sitting right in the middle of the fourth shelf, was the typewriter. It looked normal, just a regular typewriter. You really wouldn’t know it was haunted by an apparently malicious ghost. You didn’t touch it – you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you did. Instead, you went to the office off the living room.

The large wooden desk was covered in a thick layer of dust. The right drawer was locked. You opened all the others. Nothing of note on the woman, unfortunately. Behind the desk, a painting of a lakefront. You pulled it off the wall to reveal a wall safe. Typical.

“Found something!” You called, leaving the room to find Charles.

He was in the main bedroom. His back was to the door as he read a leather-bound book. He tilted his head to you as you walked in. “He definitely killed her.”

“Diary?” You asked, sitting next to him.

He hummed and shifted the book for you to read too. “Her name was Mary. She was his wife.” He paused and closed his eyes. “He pushed her down the stairs when she tried to leave him.”

“Oh,” you muttered, forcing your eyes away from the book. “Then, I suppose he deserved it.”

“Yeah…” His voice dropped slightly and you could sense his anger rising. Your hand slid easy into his and gave it a comforting squeeze. His shoulder slumped against yours. His past was coming back to him – you could tell in the way his shoulders drew in and his mask slipped slightly. A solacing silence settled over the two of you. The pressure and proximity were a comfort for both of you.  

“We should go.” He eventually broke the silence.

“There’s a safe and a locked drawer we should deal with first.” You replied as you stood up. It was as if the moment hadn’t happened. And well, you were both professionals, after all.

“The client lied to us. He did know her.” Charles told Edwin. You’d returned to the office to find Edwin in a state of undress you rarely saw him – that is, without his suit jacket – knee deep in research. He was surrounded by piles of books mostly regarding object hauntings. A small smile formed at the sight. He was perfect in his own way, something that made butterflies flutter in your stomach in the same way Charles did sometimes.

You zoned out of the conversation. The two boys – your boys – were easy on the eyes. They were both so damn pretty. The kind of pretty that stalled your breath and made your heart skip a beat. And on top of that, they were the perfect duo. A verifiable old married couple if you’d ever seen one. And they made you feel more alive than you ever did before. Somehow, Death had granted you a gift. The realization was almost a shock to the system. They were your best friends, your family. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey!” Charles’ hand suddenly waved in front of your face. “You still in there, mate?”

It jerked you out of your stupor. “Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” You looked up to him. His brown eyes were full of concern. “What’d I miss?”

Edwin raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Your friend was right. I have the spell I need to unbind Mary Brewer from the typewriter. Once she’s free, her and Thomas should be able to move on. Get ready. We leave in an hour.”

--- A WOMAN SCORNED ---

Why did nothing ever go to plan? A spectral claw dug further into your shoulder. No pain followed, but a heavy feeling of pressure followed. Mary’s elongated, horrific form screamed eerily into your face. You turned reflexively. Edwin’s voice came somewhere behind you. His Latin was just barely audible. Charles’ cricket bat thwacked the enraged spirit, but she only tightened her grip on you.

“Please hurry up!” You yelled; voice tinged with panic. “Charles!”

“I’ve got you!” He said. You could just barely hear him riffling through his bag. Mary drooled over you as she bared down on you. Then, she screamed loudly. Charles had swung on her with his knife. She reared back. Her claws released you. You dropped and scrambled. “Yeah, that’s right. Leave them alone.”

“Any time now, Edwin!”

With a final word, Mary’s ghostly form glowed blue then settled. There on the floor sat a sobbing woman dressed in sixties traveling ware. The three of you panted in relief. Edwin helped you to your feet and turned to Charles.

“You okay?”

Charles nodded, picked up his backpack, and tucked his iron knife away. “Aces, but we should get out of here. Now that she’s free, Death’ll come.”

--- CASE CLOSED ---

It hadn’t ended the way you expected, sure, but the case was still closed. The client had turned out to be a no-good murderer but you’d freed his late wife. Plus, you got paid before the case. Edwin spent the rest of the night reshelving his books. Charles smiled softly at him occasionally and busied himself with filing away the case.

You leaned against the wall, just watching them. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder what your afterlife would be like if you’d stayed in the Dreaming. But times like this made you want to hide away from Death forever.

That wonderful fluttering feeling returned. An easy smile fell on your lips. And after a moment of relishing in the saccharine feeling, you gently reached to take the stack of books from Edwin’s arms. “Let me help?”

He hummed pleasantly and shifted them into your arms. “Thank you.”

--- 2022 ---

Twenty-something years later, your case was on indefinite hiatus. The years passed pleasantly. The Dead Boy Detective Agency was a shining beacon in your postmortem life. Together, you closed probably hundreds of cases.

This one was simple, but with lots of detective work. A client came in, an older woman who just wanted to know who stole her mother’s engagement ring before she’d died. Her and her family lived on the other side of town – an hour away by the tube. Of course, that meant Edwin insisted on you practicing mirror travel on your way back. To get cases done faster, he claimed. Charles smirked at him knowingly when he’d said that and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath too.

Which led you here, in the client’s bedroom, staring at the unreflective mirror. Edwin stood uncharacteristically close behind you. His proximity made your metaphorical heart race. He gently placed your hand on the mirror. It rippled under your touch.

“Focus on the office.” He whispered close to your ear. “You need to remain focused on where you want to go. Think of the mirror as a doorway.” You took a deep breath and did as he said. Desperately not focusing on his nearness and trust, on this need to just… touch him. You did your best to focus on the office. “Now, step through.”   

You didn’t end up in the office. It was a back alley with a mirror leaning against a garbage bin. Whimpering came from a bit further in. Followed by a blue light. Dread grasped your throat. No…

“Well?” Edwin asked, poking his head out.

You quickly turned. Not him. “Death is here. Go!” You whispered, pushing him back through.

A voice stopped you from following. You couldn’t lead her back to them. Not them. Anyone but them. “Hello, Y/N.”

You turned around slowly this time. “Hello, Death. Are you finally here to take me?

She was beautiful and her face was kind. Her brown eyes sympathetic. “Do you want me to?”

You shook your head. No, that was the last thing you wanted. A man – his hair dark and wild, his eyes silver and galactic – dressed in all black walked up behind her. He felt familiar, in a similar way Death did. “Dream,” you whispered, almost reverently. He was here, somehow. Missing all those years you’d visited the Dreaming, watching as it decayed. “You’re here…”

“You know me?” His voice was smooth, reverberating deep in your chest even despite your lack of physical feeling.

“I spent years in your realm. It welcomed me when I had nowhere else.” You smiled wistfully.

Death glanced at Dream. “They can go back, if you’ll take them. They died there a long time ago.” She turned back to you. “Do you want that?”

This was it. The moment you’d wanted all those years ago. It was here. All you had to do was nod and take her hand and you could go back to the Dreaming with your friends and see its beauty like you were always meant to. But then you thought of Charles’ smile. His golden earring and Rude Boys jacket and red shirt. Edwin’s quiet concern and fancy suit. Your friends, the people you’d risked your existence for over and over again.

“No.”

Dream’s stare pierced your very being. “No? You dare deny your destiny? My realm?”

“I would have said yes, if you’d come 30 years ago. But then I made a home here, with a family of my own. And I’m happier than I ever was when I was alive or in the Dreaming.” You glanced at Death. Fear knotted in your gut. What if she took you anyway?

But she just nodded and smiled kindly. “Good, I’m glad you found your place. And when you’re ready, I will come.”

She turned to him. A moment later, he nodded. “You are always welcome in the Dreaming.”

A sigh left you involuntarily. “Thank you.”

The second you walked back through the mirror you were engulfed in their arms. Edwin – who didn’t like touch most days – held you tight in relief. Charles tugged you both close. If tears came, no one mentioned them. You sagged into their arms.

Then, Edwin slapped your arm. “Are you completely stupid?” He yelled, pulling away. His voice was high with residual anxiety.

“Easy, Edwin. They’re still here.” Charles smiled, squeezing you again before releasing you. “What happened, then? How’d you get away?”

A soft smile – saccharine and easy – graced your lips. “Death let me go.”

“What?” Edwin asked. Confusion all over his face. “That’s not possible.”

You grinned. Happiness swelled. “She said I found my place and when I was ready, she’d come for me.”

“Oh, that’s brills!” Charles laughed, picking you up in a crushing hug.

Edwin smiled – properly smiled, for possibly the first time since you’d met him. “Let’s go home then. This case can wait, what with Death around.”

Life hadn’t been kind to you. Neither had death. Then you’d met two incredible detectives. All your pain and suffering didn’t matter anymore, not really, when you had them to lean on. It still ached like a bruise on occasion. Yet you wouldn’t trade it for anything if it meant you ended up here. You’d gotten what you’d always wanted in the most unlikely of ways. You were tied to them forever now. Three souls bound together through pain and friendship. They were a safe place to rest your head when it all was too much. Just as you were for them. When Edwin had flashbacks of Hell or Charles got quiet and repressive. You don’t know what your future holds, but you knew that no matter what, you’d found where you belonged.

[suguruspit]

👽Greetings, Earthlings👽

Ino Takuma getting freaky with you during movie night

Warnings: trans masc!reader, penetrative vaginal sex, mentions of alc0hol, multiple orgàsms, oral sex, tipsy sex, overst!m, goofy sex / laughing during sex, yall are in looove, ino is a munch and I won't hear otherwise

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I love this silly guy so much

"Baby," You whine, wiggling your hips as Ino grins into the juncture of your neck, his hands already wandering up your top and onto your chest, squeezing the soft and plump flesh as he moans softly. "We're supposed to be watching the movie-"

"Movie sucks." Ino protests, licking a long stripe up your neck, sucking lightly on your ear lobe as he reaches it. His hands squeeze gently, before one hand glides over the hot skin of your chest and down to your nipples, running slightly-calloused fingertips over sensitive nipples that have you moaning. "Who cares about that stupid alien-"

"ET is not stupid!" You admonish, slapping the underside of his head and biting your lip as it jostles him closer to where you want him the most.

He's all over you on your bed, the tv in front practically static noise at this point after not only dinner, but a healthy amount of wine that had you that pleasant kind of dizzy. It also made you horny, which Takuma knew would happen and you swear he does it on purpose, always when it's your turn to pick a movie. He gets addicted to you, wants to touch you all the time and feel you up, respectfully of course. Always in your own home, or in private. And he's always so good at it, always knows where to touch, how much pressure to use.

"Takuma-" You whine, you can feel how needy you are and a small part of you is embarrassed at how easily he always manages to rile you up, just one or two touches, some kisses along your jaw, and you're leaking like a faucet. "Stop teasing."

"Stop teasing or watch the movie?" He teases, easy grin on his handsome face, a slight flush to him and his soft brown hair is sticking to his face on one side from where he's been plastered against your neck. "Can't do both, baby."

You turn your head to glare half-heartedly at him as his hands slip even lower, leaving teasing trails of butterflies across your stomach. He presses his nose into your cheek as he kisses you, and you smile at the sweet gesture that completely contradicts the fingers fiddling with your pyjama pants.

"Takuma," You warn, but your fingers are already winding in that soft tawny hair and pulling lightly, making him grin dizzily at you.

"Permission, captain?" He asks, and laughs as you pinch his cheek in response, both of you laughing before he knocks his nose against yours and kisses you. Innocent at first, traces of his smile in them, before they get deeper and you can feel his tongue parting your lips and exploring, the air suddenly shifting to hot and heavy. "Fuck, always so good, shit."

You laugh softly at the blissful dumb expression on his face, taking in the flush he has from the wine and the spit slicked lips just from making out. He's hard, you can feel it and you move a hand to rub him over his pants, making his jaw drop as he groans, hips moving forward as he rocks against your touch, breathing heavy.

"Baby.."

"Hmm?" You tease, revelling in the way you've managed to turn the tables with only your hand, squeezing it gently with a sly grin before the air is knocked out of your lungs by your boyfriend flipping you onto your back on the bed. "Mmph"

Ino looks at you with hooded eyes from where he's positioned over your hips, both hands dragging your pants down and off you with a simple lift of your hips. You shiver as the air hits you, and Ino kisses your inner thigh, grazing his teeth there gently before trailing his tongue from the seam of your thigh to your groin, pressing kisses into the V of your hip as you squirm.

"Babe." You stress, your hips tilting to try and get him to pay attention to where you wanted him so badly as he just continues to pepper kisses and lovebites across your soft skin. "Takuma. Please?"

Ino looks at you once more, his hand reaching for yours and taking it with a gentle squeeze, before he's blowing a puff of cold air against you, making you moan. The cold air hitting the wetness of you is something different, something you never thought could be so insanely hot but somehow Takuma pulled it off.

Your eyes meet his as he lowers his mouth just above you, and he winks before saying;

"Try not to run, baby."

And then his mouth is on you, hot and wet and heavy as he lathes his tongue over your dick, kissing it gently before gently sucking, his lips easily covering all of you as you gasp and writhe in his grip, directly disobeying his one request as you can't decide whether you want more or if it's just too much.

Ino moans into you, feeling fresh slick against his chin as you sob out, hips going limp as you get used to the feeling of him taking you so easily, the way he's so into it.

He alternates between sucking gently and pulling off to give you little kitten licks, face absolutely soaked as he makes little groans at your responses. You sob out a warning as you feel that familiar heat, that itch in your spine, and Takuma just moans a 'fuck yeah,' before diving back in, doubling his efforts and moving to use his free hand to lightly trace your entrance through wet folds.

That's all it takes to have you coming hard on his face, hips moving rapidly and you sob and curse even louder as he moans into you and grabs your hips, helping you ride his face through your orgasm, disgustingly hot wet noises louder than the tv.

"Fuck, 'Kuma." You whine, already overstimulated as you catch your breath, pushing at his head as he swirls his tongue through the mess you've made, moaning at the taste. "Come on-"

"You taste too good, baby." Ino whines, his face pulling into a cute pout as he gives you one last kiss before pulling away, wiping his mouth on his hand. He strips himself of his clothes and climbs over you to frame you, easy grin on his stupid flushed face, dick standing proud like a good omen. "You're so perfect when you come on me, wish you'd ride my face more."

You feel your face go red and you lightheartedly push at his face as you groan, making him laugh before pressing chaste kisses all over your palm. He smiles at you gently, his eyes full of warmth and you make a questioning noise at him, rubbing his arm.

"I come in peace."

"Oh for fucks sake," You snort, slapping his chest and laughing with him as he kisses your neck, blowing raspberries as he lowers himself, almost flattening you. "You're a fucking loser, dude."

"Yeah but you love that about me," Ino says with a grin, nodding his head matter of factly, holding a finger up and putting on an insulting version of your voice. "God I love you, Takuma. I'm gonna cum, Takuma!"

"Oh my god." You laugh, adjusting your hips when he slaps your hip gently. You feel his tip slap against you a couple of times and you bite your lip, taking in the almost drunk expression your boyfriend wears as he watches himself disappear into you.

You both groan at the stretch, your fingernails digging into his strong arms as he eases himself in, your come from earlier making it a pleasant stretch and you kiss his nose as he comes to a stop, bottoming out with a shaky exhale.

"Doin' so good, Takuma." You reassure him, knowing he gets overwhelmed easily sometimes, especially after drinking. Ino fucks like he's getting graded, always putting you before him even if it leaves him shaking from overstimulation and you feel yourself pulse just thinking about it, making him inhale above you. " 'M ready, baby."

"Okay," Ino clears his throat as he makes an initial thrust, making you both breathe heavy. He's big, and you're so tight after already coming once tonight so the combination of both has it feeling like he's in your throat. "Shit, baby you're tight tonight."

"Mmhm," Is all you manage to whimper out as your boyfriend starts to gain a rhythm, managing to rub up against that spot perfectly with every thrust, already driving you crazy. "Feels so good-"

"Fuck," Ino curses, dropping a kiss to your forehead before he knocks his own against it, whiskey-brown eyes looking into yours with so much love that your breathing stutters. "Worlds most perfect boyfriend, I'm so lucky."

You bite your lip as you feel how wet you are on your thighs, concentrating on the way Takuma slips in and out of you easily, hips knocking against yours every time and making the bed shake. It's good, but it's not enough, and you let out a grunt of frustration as you realise this just isn't going to get you there.

"Hmm?" Takuma asks through pants, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes and running a thumb down your cheek soothingly, still keeping his brutal pace despite the niceties. "No good?"

"Not like this," You mumble as you shake your head, squealing as he pulls out quickly and flips you over once more, slapping your ass as soon as your arch your back. "Takuma!"

"Let's get it done the proper way, right?" He says as he lines up against you again, swearing as the position makes you even tighter. You whimper, and he copies you subconsciously. "Oh fuck, babe. Shit. So fuckin' perfect, you know that?"

You just sob into the pillow as he starts his thrusts up again, this time pulling you hips back into him in a brutal game of push and pull, and you can already feel your orgasm building from just a simple position change.

Ino must be close too, because he's started to babble as you gropes the fat of your ass with groans as it jiggles with each slap against it.

"Fuck, so much fucking better than that stupid alien movie," He whines, slick noises almost drowning out what he's saying as you get closer and closer to your peak. Ino is whining now, he's plastered himself against your back and hiding his face in your neck as he practically humps you. "Wanna come, want to feel you first, can I touch you?"

You try and think with dizzy thoughts, you usually get so sensitive after he's used his mouth, but just the thought of those long fingers rubbing your dick has you salivating into the cotton beneath and you just nod your head, shivering as he sobs out a thank you into you sweat-soaked skin.

As soon as the pad of his fingers rub up against you, you feel yourself tensing as your orgasm threatens to bubble over, and you warm Ino with all the energy you can manage, but it comes out more of a babble as he rails into you, drawing more and more come out of you as he does.

"Come, please baby," Ino babbles, he's biting his lip and his face is besides yours as he doubles his efforts in his thrusts, getting them hitting their target with scary precision as he keeps his fingers touching you feather lightly. "God, can't hold it-"

"Fuck-" You choke out into your pillow as your orgasm crashes into you, your thighs spasming at the intensity of it and you grunt as it keeps going, your vision going spotty as you shiver through the aftershocks, gasping as you feel your boyfriend start to come. "Oh god, 'Kuma."

When Takuma comes, it's a lot. He always stuffs you so full that it's dripping out of you and all the way down your thighs, marking you for the rest of the day.

"Fuck, fuck." Ino grunts, biting into your shoulder and making you moan as he starts to fill you, pumping you full as it seems to last full minutes. There's so much that it's spilling out of you, just like every time, and you sob as he kisses your shoulder, pulling out gingerly before collapsing beside you with a tired whistle. "Holy shit."

"Ngh." Is all you can say in response, absolutely fucked out and still leaking as you bury your head into your pillow. Best fuck ever, he might be silly but he takes fucking you seriously like it's a full time job. He starts kissing your shoulder and cheek and you sigh. "So good."

"Gets better every time." Ino practically wheezes out, making you laugh. "Don't laugh, you sucked me dry."

"Takuma-" You say exasperated. You turn your head so you can look at him, all covered in sweat and looking throughly fucked out, to your pleasure. "So unromantic."

"You sucked the romance out too," Ino says with a shake of his head, a pout on his lips as you just sigh and rub your face back into the pillow, squeezing your thighs back together. "There's nothing left of me, save yourself."

"You're an idiot," Your voice is muffled from where your face is smushed against the pillow, but you have the biggest and cheesiest grin on your lips. "I'll take your humour, next time."

"That's all I have left." Ino says mournfully, before tugging you into his arms, kissing the crown of your head as you settle onto his chest. "Oh hey! The films still playing!"

You turn your head as ET raises his pointed finger, the light pointed towards the sky and you don't need eyes in the back of your head to know the expression your boyfriend is making.

"If I had-"

"No."

[naivegh0ul]

For Evangelionarc! (plus a bit of fanart that inspired me to finish this)

(warnings: smut, masc reader, non-consensual voyeurism, handjobs, dub-con)

(word count: 1,660)

If Ghost found out you were doing this, he'd probably kill you. He'd definitely kill you. Strangle you with his bare hands. Those massive, sexy hands with his calloused palms-

You're pulled out of your daydream by the sound of Ghost groaning. Right, you remember where you are. You're in Ghost's closet, phone in hand as you record the delicious moans coming from Ghost as he touches himself.

You can hear the slick sound of his hand moving up and down and you watch as he flicks the tip of his cock, his body jolting and eyes widening beneath his mask as he moans loudly.

What you wouldn't give to wrap your mouth around him. You've seen his dick before, in passing glances in the shower room, or that one time in Berlin where Ghost's fatigues caught on fire and he had to discard everything from the waist down.

It would've been funny, if not for the fact that you couldn't stop staring at Ghost's dick. That man is hung, fat and long, heavy balls, a gorgeous happy trail leading down to thick pubic hair.

You can see those things through the slats of Ghost's closet door, you can see the way Ghost's head falls back against his pillow as his hips fuck up into his hand, his fingers sticky and covered in precum.

"Fuck. Yes, just like that." Ghost groans, clearly in the middle of a fantasy. You wonder who's he thinking about when your phone suddenly slips out of your hand, clattering to the floor.

Ghost shoots up in bed, grabbing his knife off the nightstand with his wet hand and storming over to his closet. The door swings open and Ghost yanks you out by the collar, pressing his knife to your throat.

You half expect him to just slit your throat right then and there. Leave you to bleed out in the middle of his room. But he doesn't. He pulls the knife away from your throat, still gripping your collar tightly, and he slams you against the wall.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Ghost growls. You swallow nervously at the sharp weapon near your throat, along with the fact that Ghost's hand, covered in lube and his precum, is so close to your face. You feel something touch your leg and when you glance down quickly, you see that Ghost's cock is still out of his trousers. And he's still hard.

You splutter out a weak apology but Ghost silences you by moving his hand from the collar of your shirt to your neck, squeezing roughly as he pulls you back and bashes you against the wall again.

"Fuckin' freak. You like this, don't you?" Ghost pulls you back from the wall and stands in front of you menacingly, his arms crossed over his chest as he glares at you.

"Strip. Now." Ghost commands as he gives his cock a few rough tugs, watching you undress for him. He smirks once you're naked, your body on show for him to see.

Ghost shoves you in the direction of his bed, stalking over to you as you stumble backwards and fall onto Ghost's mattress. You watch his cock twitch at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed, eyes wide with fear (and arousal), your cock leaking precum where it rests on your thigh.

"Slag." Ghost spits. Instead of walking towards you like you thought he would, he walks over to his closet and grabs your phone that you dropped. He types in your password (which you have no clue how he knows) and scoffs out a laugh at what he sees.

"This is what gets you off, eh? Filmin' people without their knowledge." Ghost walks back over to you rather leisurely, scrolling through your camera roll and finding hundreds of pictures of himself in various positions.

Sleeping, eating, working out, showering. The sleeping photos disturb him the most and he tosses your phone at you, not caring if it hits you or cracks. He climbs into the bed, crawling on top of you as his heavy cock brushes yours, making you shiver. He sits himself on your lap, his thick thighs encompassing yours and the weight of his body holding you down.

Ghost stares down at you, his arms crossed over his chest. He seems angry, but it's hard to tell with his mask on. Suddenly, your head is whipping to the side as Ghost delivers a harsh slap to your cheek.

You groan, reaching a hand up to rub the red mark on your cheek. Ghost grabs your hand before you can do anything, lifting it above your head along with your other hand as he holds them down. Ghost's hand not pinning your arms down slaps your face again, another groan escaping you as your cock twitches against Ghost's.

Ghost raises his hand again and you shut your eyes in anticipation, expecting to be hit again but no hit ever comes. You open your eyes, peering up at Ghost to see him staring right back at you, his hand over his cock. He grasps your cock and his in his fist, giving them a firm stroke.

Your back arches as you moan, the feeling of Ghost's calloused palm squeezing your aching cock against his has you squirming in Ghost's hold, thighs twitching as Ghost strokes the two of you roughly.

Ghost seems unaffected, his eyes staring down at you lazily. It only fuels your arousal more, the sight of Ghost looking so bored, as if this is a chore for him and he wasn't the one who wrapped his big hand around the both of you.

His strokes speed up, similar to how he was stroking himself when you were watching from the closet. Clearly, Ghost likes it fast and rough as he squishes your cock against his and jerks his hand up and down quickly, making you cry out and arch your back once more.

You attempt to get Ghost to slow down, struggling in his hold and bucking your hips, trying to squirm away but you only end up fucking into Ghost's fist, rubbing your tip along Ghost's shaft.

"Ple-please," You breathe, thighs twitching as you moan and look up at Ghost with pleading eyes, his emotionless ones gazing right back at you. "Slow- mmm, slow down, I- I can't... too fast." Your words come out jumbled, sentences unfinished.

"Shut up." Ghost hisses, speeding up his strokes even more just to be cruel. Tears form in your eyes, the intense sensations proving to be too much for your sensitive cock. You try to plead with Ghost again, begging him to slow down.

Your begging annoys Ghost, you can tell by the way his left eye twitches beneath his mask and his fist tightens around you two. You cry out, Ghost's grasp on your poor cock is bordering on painful. "Please, please, I'm s-sorry! I, ah, I won't do it a-again."

A huff can be heard from Ghost at your words, he obviously doesn't believe you. "Lyin' little shit." He growls, leaning down to shut you up forcefully. His lips press against yours through the fabric, the cotton of his mask sticking to your wet lips.

The kiss is rough and intense, and Ghost's tongue tries to slip into your mouth, forgetting about the barrier blocking your mouth from his. Ghost quickly tugs his mask up to his nose, revealing a strong jaw and plush, slightly chapped lips.

You don't get a lot of time to admire that part of his face before his lips are on you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. His tongue licks inside, tasting you as he grinds his hips forward, his tip bumping yours and leaking precum over it.

Ghost moans into your mouth and lets go of your hands to cup your jaw intimately, his thumb rubbing over your jawline as he fucks into his fist and kisses you with fervour.

"Close." Ghost murmurs. He leans impossibly closer to you, trapping your cock against his between the two of you. You whimper into Ghost's mouth and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on the little tuft of hair peeking out from under Ghost's mask.

Ghost groans at your actions and tightens his fist again, making you whine. "You better cum with me or you're not fuckin' cumming at all." Ghost tells you as he pulls away from the kiss, chuckling as you lean up and try to chase his lips.

"Down, boy." He says mockingly. His lips move to your neck, sucking hickies along the underside of your jaw. All of a sudden, Ghost's teeth are sinking into your neck, marking you with a growl as his cock twitches and spurts his cum over your cock and your stomach.

When Ghost comes down from his high, his eyes looking at yours he sees the need and desperation in them. He glances down, confirming his suspicions. You didn't cum when he did.

"Please, I just need a little bit more, I promise." You say quickly, hands reaching in between you and him to get a hand around yourself. "No. You heard me. You didn't cum, tough shit. Out." Ghost nods towards the door as he sits up, wiping his cum stained hand on a tissue.

You try to plead more, begging Ghost as he moves off his bed and cleans his cock with a towel. "Please, Ghost, just let me touch myself. I'll be quick, I swear."

Ghost shakes his head, grabbing your clothes off the floor from when you took them off earlier and tosses them at you. "Get changed and get out... We'll try again tomorrow." Ghost says softly, seeing your eyes light up at the possibility of doing what you just did again.

"Yes sir." You nod, your tone shows just how excited you are, as if your still-hard cock hanging between your legs doesn't do that.

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] clinging to them — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says bb!! just some headcanons of the boys reacting to the reader clinging to them and basically following them around like a lost puppy!

relationships platonic!tf141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings written in 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], non-scottish reader [or could be read as scottish with less of an accent], probably ooc :{

note this is so. self indulgent. BUT i need to get my thoughts out rn about these boys because its too much to contain my silly little brain won't let this go and i need to just hdjhsdfjdhj. if anyone wants to request something for me to write pls do it because this is the only thing thats gotten me out of my writers block.

JOHN "BRAVO SIX" PRICE

➥ i honestly don’t even think he’d notice at first.

➥ about a week after you’d gotten to know everyone on the team and started to get used to their quirks, you decide your target to cling onto is gonna be price… because why not?

➥ when i say cling i mean following him around like a lost puppy, just about watching his every move, basically being his shadow.

➥ it’s not until about three days of you doing this when he realizes you’re shadowing him.

➥ when he confronts you about it, it’s less of a confrontation and more like him saying “... do you need something?” and then brushing it off when you shake your head ‘no’.

➥ he’s not really irritated or angry about it, more confused but generally okay with it.

➥ so when he realizes you’re gonna be doing this often, he can’t tell whether he should feel honored or bothered.

➥ spoilers: he ends up feeling honored. it’s his fatherly instincts, y’all already know.

➥ he’s awkward about it at first, now that he actually knows you’re following him, he’s constantly checking over his shoulder and — yep, you’re still there.

➥ so he doesn’t confront you about it again, and just lets you follow him around, and once y’all get closer he teases you for following him around like a duckling would with its mother.

—

You’d been following Price around for a few days now. He hadn’t noticed so far, thank God, but he was definitely close to finding out. You could see the way he’d occasionally glance over his shoulder and see you following him, then keep eye contact with you for a moment before going on with his day — which really confused you at first, but who cares as long as he’s not stopping you? — and letting you follow him.

You had been following him out of habit. You didn’t mean to follow him in particular, it just… happened. Something about his demeanor, you’d convinced yourself, He just feels safe. It’s inexplicable and we will not be diving into my underlying issues to figure out why he feels safe.

So when he’d confronted you about it—or, asked you about it is probably more accurate—with a questioning tone and the words, “Did you need something?”, you shook your head ‘no’, and that was that. The older man had looked at you for another second, eyes looking over your expression as if trying to read you like a book, then went on with his day. You had let out a sigh of relief, and continued your little routine of following him around and being his little shadow.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s such a silly guy, man.

➥ he’d notice but pretend he didn’t, just for the sake of seeing how long you’ll follow him.

➥ if anyone points out your presence he’ll ignore it and change the subject.

➥ of course, once he realizes you aren’t letting up your clinginess, he confronts you about it in the most professional way possible!

➥ “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like that, or am I jist special?”

➥ it takes you a moment to figure out what he just said because holy fuck that accent is THICK.

➥ but you figure it out after a quick moment of thinking and struggle to respond, before offering a quiet, “... Uh. I guess you’re just special?”

➥ he is very happy about this.

➥ he nods approvingly and goes on with his day, letting you trail behind him.

➥ he really doesn’t mind, and actually enjoys having you trail behind him.

—

Following around Soap was more of a challenge than you’d intended. It was fun, for the most part, and you liked that he didn’t acknowledge you at all. The main reason you had kept following him was because he didn’t bother you at all, and didn’t even glance back at you as you followed him, no, he simply let you follow him around and shadow him all day.

Of course, you still had training and practice, but the moment you had gotten out of the showers and were done for the day, you’d gone back to following Soap, once you’d found him. Your daily routine was basically: wake up, eat breakfast, follow Soap, go to the training room and follow your CO’s orders, shower and eat lunch or dinner, find Soap, follow Soap, sleep, repeat.

Then one day, on a particularly idle day, Soap had turned to you and popped the question — “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like this, or am I jist special?”

Maybe you were just being dramatic, but holy fuck , his accent made it almost sound like he was speaking a whole different language. You process his words for a moment, before responding with a quiet, “Uh… I guess you’re just special?”

He seemed pretty satisfied with that answer and never really bothered you with it again.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ he realizes immediately and ohhh boyyyyyy.

➥ “Do you need something?” “Did you need something?” “Why are you following me?” “Stop following me.” “Do you need something?”

➥ he is. Very bothered.

➥ constantly looking over his shoulder just to find your annoying ass following him.

➥ will always ask you why you’re following him, and when you shrug or give a bullshit excuse, he gives an exasperated sigh and goes on with his day.

➥ sometimes he’d even try to lose you in the crowd, and when you miraculously continue to follow him through it, he’d somehow become even more miserable. it’s impressive, your dedication to following him around like this.

➥ he’ll warm up to it eventually, maybe a month or two after you’ve started following him.

➥ by month one he’ll stop constantly asking you why you’re following him, and by month two he’ll stop constantly glancing over his shoulder.

➥ and eventually, he’ll stop trying to lose you in the crowds, and instead look for the easiest way to get through them with you trailing behind him.

—

Ghost should’ve known from the moment you persisted with your following of him through thick and thin that you’d never give this up. Honestly, it’s impressive how dedicated you are to trailing behind him like a little shadow, never even speaking to him, just following him.

However, Ghost could persist as well.

You’d follow him around as much as possible, starting at the break of dawn and briefly pausing your following to do whatever training your CO instructed and then resuming your following till curfew. Day after day, Ghost would interrupt your following by questioning it, then when given an answer, he’d give an exasperated sigh and storm off, not waiting for you to catch up.

At first, he thought you wanted to win over some sort of attention or affection from him. So, he made sure not to give you any. He didn’t spare a single moment for you, besides glancing at you over his shoulder and questioning your presence, and yet you continued to follow him. So he experimented with it a bit — he didn’t spare a single glance at you one day, didn’t speak to you one bit, didn’t do anything. Just went around as if you weren’t there. And yet, you continued to follow him, not put off by his behavior at all.

So, he just stopped thinking too much about you, in the nicest way possible. He wouldn’t glance back at you and question your presence, but he also wouldn’t try and lose you around the base. He wouldn’t storm off and leave you running to catch up. Sometimes, he even forgets you’re there at all. He warms up to it, albeit after a few months, but he still warms up to it nonetheless.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ i think he’d notice fairly quickly but wouldn’t point it out right away.

➥ like, he’d glance over his shoulder and see you following him, but gaslights himself into thinking you’re just trying to get to the same place he is, so he doesn’t confront you about it or anything.

➥ so when he realizes that you’re following him and not just trying to get to the same place he is, he’s kind of weirded out, but still doesn’t confront you.

➥ he’ll ask soap for some help on what to do and the damn idiot just goes ‘[c/n] probably has a crush on you’ so now gaz thinks you have a crush on him.

➥ i mean, he’s flattered, but also he has no idea who you are, so…

➥ he’s now even more awkward.

➥ so then he goes to price for help,

➥ and price is just a tinge more reasonable.

➥ price tells gaz that you’re probably just shadowing him because you see him as some sort of mentor, or maybe there was someone in your past that was similar to gaz and you followed them around as well.

➥ his reasoning doesn’t help all that much, because what the fuck is gaz supposed to do with that, but whatever.

➥ he really doesn’t know what to do about you, to be honest.

➥ after way too long, he asks you why you’re following him.

➥ and when you shrug or give an excuse as to why you’ve been trailing behind him ever since you’ve gotten here, he shrugs back and goes on with his day.

➥ doesn’t mind all that much, so yippee!!

➥ eventually, when you two get closer, he tells you that you can walk by his side instead of behind him.

—

Making Gaz your target was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.

He’s pretty quiet, doesn’t actively try to get you to go away, and best of all, he really just walks around and does any tasks he needs to. It’s oddly nice, just watching him do his work. He doesn’t talk to himself under his breath like Soap or Price does, and doesn’t do his work in complete silence like Ghost does. He’ll often hum to himself or whistle, a noise that’s quickly become weirdly comforting to you.

It’s kind of disappointing realizing you have to go off to training, honestly. Following Gaz around has quickly become the pinnacle of your day. Which sounds really sad now that you think of it, but who cares.

About a month of you following him later, he finally asks you why you’re following him. In the nicest way possible, of course.

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around all month?”

When you shrug or give an excuse for your actions, he thinks about your words (or your wordless shrug) for a moment and mutters a quiet, “Alright, then,” and goes on with his day.

[reaping-the-benefits]

Trans masc Ghost who will play with your pussy for hours, making you cum on his tongue and fingers. Will fuck you will a strap on until you're seeing stars.

Who, oddly enough, isn't comfortable with you touching his pussy.

But after some time, and maybe a few drinks, he finally let's you between his legs. And God does he regret not letting you do it sooner. The way you suck on his t-dick while fingering him had his legs shaking faster than he thought it would.

You find out that night that he's a squirter.

[cookiescribble]

I’m The Only One Who Touches You

A/N: This one kinda got away from me, ngl 😅 I’ve been sitting on it for a while. enjoy anyway, though! sorry we've kinda been on hiatus <3 - Mod Ghost

Summary: You and Spencer had decided some quality time with the team could do you both some good, but some jerk has other ideas

TW: sexual harassment, alcohol/drinking, pre-T/ top or bottom surgery body, misgendering

After some discussion between us and the team, Spencer and I agreed to go out that night with the rest of the team to a bar that Rossi wanted to show us.

“Do we really have to go? I…I really don’t want to be inside of a bar tonight, let alone at all,” Spence asked softly, coming up behind me as I brushed my teeth and wrapped his arms around my waist as he dropped his head on top of mine. He looked into my eyes in the mirror, and I could see the puppy dog pout that he had on.

“We already agreed to go, and we won’t have to be there for long. Just enough to say hello and make it seem like we’re personable people.” I spit into the sink then turn around in his arms to hug him back as I speak, rubbing his back. “Plus, if it gets really bad, we can have a secret signal. Just for you to say ‘hey, I hate it here, let’s leave please.’ Okay? While we’re there, you can just tap my elbow three times. Like this.” I reach around and tap his elbow three times to show him then he nods.

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s head out then, the rest of the team should either already be there or will be there soon.” Spence chuckled softly, taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom then out of the apartment.

Once we got there, Spencer seemed to be a bit more at ease, comfortable in his own skin. He was talking with JJ and Garcia as I was getting some more drinks, soda for Spence and myself while the girls were getting alcohol.

“Another of whatever this pretty lady is getting for me, please.” A man spoke up from next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

The bartender went about making all the drinks as I looked at this mystery man. He was taller than me and was looking at me with a rather smug face.

“I’m not sure who you think you’re talking to, or why you’d want four drinks for yourself.” I tried to move his hand off my shoulder but he kept it there, which made my discomfort levels skyrocket. I looked around for Spencer but couldn’t see him, which is when this guy finally moved his hand, but he grabbed my chin instead of keeping it away as if he was trying to get my attention back.

“You bought four drinks, huh? Someone’s got a bit of an alcohol problem,” he said with a cocky sneer, leaning in closer so I could smell all the alcohol he’d been drinking.

“You have about 5 seconds to get off me before I make you,” I threatened, trying to pull away from him which only made him yank me closer with his hand trailing down my side. “Hey—“

All I felt was this guy suddenly getting dragged off of me and before I knew what was happening, he was pinned down against the bar.

“When my boyfriend tells you something, you listen. Do you understand me?” The man holding this guy down, who I quickly realized was Spence, growled close to this asshole’s ear. It made him nod nervously. “Good. Now, get the fuck out of here.”

The mystery pervert was up and out of sight before either of us could say anything else, which was when Spencer turned to face me. His entire demeanor changed now, his expression soft as he reached out to me.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you?” Before he could even finish his sentence, I was burying myself in his arms. “Hey, what happened?? What did he do that I didn’t see?”

“Nothing, Spence, I promise. I’m just…really glad you showed up..” I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. He rubbed my back slowly as he hugged me tight.

“Alright, it’s okay. I’m going to take you home, let’s go tell the others we’re leaving and then we’ll be out of here,” he whispered back as he leaned in close to my ear, leading me back over to where everyone was standing to politely tell them we were leaving.

“Hey, we’re uh, we’re gonna head home,” Spencer announced, his arm tightly wrapped around my shoulders.

“Aw, already?” Complained Penelope, but then I assumed she saw the look on my face because I saw her demeanor turn concerned. “What happened? Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine, I’m just tired. We’ll see you guys tomorrow.” He didn’t wait for anyone else to say anything before leading me away as I waved meekly. 

We were in a taxi on the way home but I felt detached and out of it. I kept thinking about what could’ve happened if Spencer hadn’t been there when he was. 

“I didn’t lie to Penelope for you, did I?” he joked, gently nudging me to bring me out of my thoughts with a soft tone to his voice and a gentle smile on his face. 

“No, I would never make you do that. I’m okay, just like I said earlier,” I promised, but it didn’t seem to ease his suspicions any.

After getting out of the car, we were heading up to his apartment, his arm around me the whole way until we got to his door where he let go to let us inside. 

I stood behind him, an arm wrapped around myself and looking around the hallway on either side until I heard the telltale sound of the lock clicking open then took his hand that he extended to me. He pulled me through the threshold and then turned around to close the door behind us while I simply stood there.

Spence could tell I was feeling off, but I couldn’t do much about it. My mind couldn’t help taking me through what the worst case scenario would’ve been.

“Hey,” he murmured lovingly, leaning in close enough that I could feel him behind me without him actually touching me, “I don’t care what ‘men’ try to pick you up, I’ll always be the man taking you home,” he mumbled in my ear, just low enough to send shivers down my spine as he pulled me in until I was pressed against his chest and gently tilted my head so he could make eye contact with me, “Okay?”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off of his. 

“Good. Now, c’mon, let’s take a shower and stop thinking about this.” 

“How’d you know I was—“

Spencer simply looked at me with a raised eyebrow, as if he was asking whether or not I was serious.

“…never mind.”

“That’s what I thought. Come with me.” He took my hand, holding it firmly but gently as he led me into the bathroom. “Start the water, I’m gonna grab some clothes and towels for us.” He kissed the back of my head with his hands gently resting on my shoulders before leaving the room. I did as told, though, leaning down to start up the water and making sure the temperature was okay. 

As I was about to get up, I heard him come back into the bathroom, closing the door and coming up behind me. I felt the warmth of his body before his hands slid over my hips, pulling me up to stand and turning me around to face him. 

“Do you want me in here with you? I can start up some food if–” He stopped mid-sentence when I grabbed his wrist, nonverbally signaling that I didn’t want him to leave me, “--okay, don’t worry…I’m right here and I’m going to keep you safe now.” 

Adjusting so he was holding my hand instead, he then leaned down to kiss my forehead before leaning his head against mine. “Is it okay if I take your shirt off for you?” His voice was soft as it broke the silence, barely even there, which made it all the more comforting. 

I nodded again, but he didn’t move, so I got the sense he wanted verbal consent.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I mumbled back, and he kissed my cheek before he gently started tugging my shirt up and over my head. 

He paused with his hands hovering over the waistband of my jeans, glancing at me as if he was asking me again. 

“That’s uh, that’s okay, too. Jeans and..and just all of it, go ahead.” I smiled at him shyly, admiring how sweet he was to continually make sure I was okay with what was going on. 

Spence smiled at me then continued to undress me, unable to stop himself from looking at me for a moment before turning me around to gently push me into the shower and getting undressed himself so he could join me. I waited patiently for him, letting the water run through my hair and closing my eyes as I felt my muscles relax under the spray while my mind wandered.

It felt a bit odd that I didn’t want Spencer to stop touching me, as if his soft and gentle touch could somehow erase the terror of what could’ve happened to me but didn’t. That it could save me from feeling that man’s hand roughly grabbing my chin and almost forcing me into things I didn’t want. His gentle kisses and soft caresses were all I wanted, and it seemed he was more than willing to give me that.

I hadn’t noticed that Spence had stepped into the shower until I opened my eyes and he was standing in front of me, pouring soap into his hand. His eyes flicked over to meet mine once he realized I was looking at him, giving me a gentle smile.

“Are you still with me over there?” His tone of voice hadn’t changed from that same tender cadence, taking a small step closer to me until I could feel his breath ghosting over my skin. It was moments like this that made me realize just how tall he was. 

“Yeah, I’m right here…hi.” I waved up at him which made us both giggle.

“That’s okay, just checking, sweetheart.” Spence kissed the top of my head, rubbing the soap into both of his hands then he gently started to rub his hands over my shoulders. I leaned forward until my head was pressed against his chest as he ran his hands over my body, gently kissing the top of my head again then leaving a trail of kisses on my face and along my neck. 

I stood up straight again when he had to bend down further, blushing as I felt his hands massage over my legs and up my thighs. 

I slid my hand into his hair, gently playing with it as he left a kiss lower on my stomach and the warm water rained down over me. 

“S-Spence, I…” I trailed off, distracted by him leaving kisses and marks over my body.

“Hmm…?” he stopped, looking up at me. “Are you okay?” He sat back on his knees, looking up at me while holding both of my thighs.

I slid my hand into his hair, gently playing with it as he left a kiss lower on my stomach and the warm water rained down over me. 

“Mmhmm…I’ve just...I’ve never done this before, and everything that happened tonight, I just…I didn’t think it affected me because he only grabbed at me, but…”

“Stop,” he stood up, wrapping his arms around me with his hands on my lower back so he could pull me closer to him. “It’s alright that what happened affected you, any kind of unwanted touch is a very disorienting thing. Especially if you’ve never been touched like that. We don’t have to do anything unless you’re comfortable.” His voice was more serious than before, and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but nod to show that I understood. “Are you still comfortable with this? Because it’s completely alright to have changed your mind. Just tell me, darling. I’m smart but I’m not a mind reader,” he joked, gently tugging me closer to him until I was almost pressed up against him. 

“Yes…Yeah, I’m still comfortable with this. I think I just needed a minute.” I speak only loud enough to be heard over the water. 

He nods and presses his lips to my cheek before he kneels in front of me again, marking his path with kisses down my stomach back toward where he was before I stopped him, sucking and gently biting at my skin along the way. 

As he got lower and lower, he shifted to loop his arms around my knees, pulling me even closer as he got ever closer to exactly where I wanted–no, needed him to be. I could feel his breathing getting heavier, each breath washing over me between each kiss. 

I slid both of my hands into his hair, gently gripping random fistfuls of it as I moaned lowly and tilted my head back. I felt him chuckle more than I heard it as his head found its way between my legs. 

Soon enough, his tongue glided smoothly in circles over my skin as I gasped and groaned, my grip tightening on his hair and almost pulling with each motion as any thought of getting cleaned up was abandoned. God, if I had known this was where I was going to be before I left the house with him, I wouldn’t have wanted us to leave either. 

Spencer eventually came up for air ever so briefly before he was back to kissing all over my body, marking my skin wherever he could without seeming to care where, like he was claiming every inch of me. Little did he know, all he’d have to do was say ‘please’ in the softest tone of voice he could muster and I’d be on my knees for him. Or worse, he knew and he was more than willing to take advantage of that fact. Not that I minded, per say. 

He slowly made his way back up to my lips, kissing every possible spot on my body that he could so I’d be littered in hickeys and would feel them as a constant reminder of this moment. Of him. 

I tugged on his hair lightly until he was on his feet, my arms going around his neck as I pulled him into a deep kiss with my lips parting against his as he pulled me in closer until our bodies were all but pressed together. 

Feeling him this close to me sent a shiver down my spine.

He finished washing me off, getting out and wrapping a towel around himself before he held out his hand to help me out of the shower. He wrapped the other towel around me and helped me dry off, getting me dressed in a white and gray hoodie of his that said Washington DC and a pair of his pajama pants that he had to tie in a neat bow so they didn’t fall. 

I went digging in his drawers and helped him pick out as well as get into his own pajamas, then he picked me up as I squeaked loudly and started laughing. 

“Spencer! What’re you doing?!” I yelled through giggles. 

“I’m not doing anything!” He smirked as he dropped me onto his bed then sat next to me. 

Spence was barely on the bed two seconds before I was in his lap, hugging him tight. He looped his arms back around me as he leaned back, hugging me close as he pulled the blankets over us and I nuzzled into his shoulder. 

Neither of us moved for a while, long enough for us both to fall asleep. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I felt his lips press against the back of my head with a whispered ‘I love you’.

“Spence..?”

“Hmm..?”

“Can you like…talk to me? Like just…just tell me about something. Anything you want.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power here, sweetheart.” 

“I know, pretty boy, but your voice is…it’s comforting to me.” 

“Okay, you asked for it…” he cleared his throat in a dramatic fashion, making me giggle, before continuing, “The first thing I could think of that could be a lot of fun was Star Wars, so did you know that the name Yoda can be translated to ‘warrior’ in Sanskrit? Also, the word ‘Ewok’ was never spoken aloud in any of the films, even when they visit Endor, the only time it ever comes up is in the credits of ‘Return of the Jedi’,” Spencer rambled excitedly, and I was happy to listen to him for as long as he could talk. Just listening to him, it felt like the rest of the world melted away. Nothing else mattered, and that was the way I preferred it. 

I didn’t even notice I had been falling asleep until he kissed my head and softly wished me goodnight. 

[dilophosauridae248]

Ummm inspired by @slashthrashandcrash saying Danny can't handle liquor bc... he really wouldn't be able to me thinks

[heyhelloitsmilo]

Everything Will Be Ok.

Simon Riley x reader x John MacTavish

918 words

⚠️ warnings: milo standard fluff, polyam relationship, not canon compliant (i think), mention of scars (not detailed)

💛 pairings: Simon Riley x John MacTavish x reader (masc), poly shit :)

💫 summary: CUDDLES!! slice of life w/o missions and uh. exaltation of the beloved lady??? (think Princess Bride's "As You Wish" as an example of it)

💬 extra notes: IM BAAAAAACK also fun fact MW2 and 3 are set in 2016-2017 which is uh. 7-8 years ago. :)

The sound of leaves rustling filled the air. Hands in hair, tea steeping in a mug on the bedside table. The autumn air hung with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla, warm and cozy and soft.

John's face burrowed into your neck, his hand on your chest. The book in your hand kept ajar by your thumb, completely forgotten as Simon held the both of you in his arms. With missions on hold for the time being, the three of you made good use of that time... Whatever that meant.

Well, turns out that meant you were sandwiched between the two of them, not like you weren't cuddle-piling in whatever sleeping arrangements you had. Then again, most of the Task Force tended to hang out together while they slept. The horrors of war tended to bring people together. That, and intense paranoia. And insomnia... trust issues... torture...

But for now, the horrors were far away, out of mind. No torture, no gunfire, no yelling. Just the quiet of the hotel they were staying in, and the soft sound of breathing.

"Yer awf'lly quiet, love."

John's voice was muffled in the skin of your neck, breaking your train of thought. You turned your head, cheek squished against his shaved side.

"Mmh?"

"Jus' lying there like a ludgin' hoose cat."

"English, Johnny." Simon muttered, much to your amusement. Both of you knew basically what he'd said, but oftentimes John's accent made it a little hard to understand.

John scoffed, throwing his leg over your waist. "No."

Stubble brushed across your clavicle, causing your skin to crawl. You drew back in revulsion, a small disgusted noise leaving your lips.

"Look what you've done, y'done made 'im groan, 'nd not in the good way." Simon nudged his nose in against your hair and pressed a little kiss to your temple. He chuckled lowly, putting a hand on John's thigh.

"We need a shave." You mumbled, really not enjoying the prickly hair on your skin. "And you need a haircut, Johnny." The statement earned a small chuckle from John, whose buzzed sides needed refreshing.

The room fell back into comfortable silence, though a little warm. Turns out having two guys hold you got toasty. Who knew? A novel concept.

Things settled back to how they were before: sleepy, warm, and cozy. Quiet mutterings of affection or fluttered kisses broke the silence, but nothing big. At one point, Johnny took your hand, kissed your knuckles, then bit the side of your palm. Classic, but you flicked him (gently) anyways. Large(r) hands roamed your torso, drawing lazy patterns along your skin. Your hand scratched and combed through your lovers' hair, pressing occasional kisses to their foreheads.

Your eyes fluttered closed, letting the sounds and smells lock you in this moment. Times like these were few and far between, never mind the fact that most standard militaries would have them all court martialed and dishonorably discharged. Fuckin'... gay people. No one really cared in 141, though. Which was nice. It afforded the three of you a chance to be together, except for when other generals and higher-ups or whatever were around.

A hand snaked up your shirt, briefly squeezing your chest before laying on your scarred skin. You weren't sure whose it was until thick fingers briefly squeezed your skin.

Simon slid his hand down your side, holding onto your waist. Soft murmured whispers of love and affection trailed from his lips, his breath gentle on your skin. His hand gripped you, tight enough to feel possessive but loose enough to be comfortable.

"I'm so in love with you," He whispered, nibbling the shell of your ear, earning a small chuckle from you.

"Y'think I'm joking? No, you don't understand. Every day I see you, I want to burn the entire world for you. Let me treasure you."

Funnily enough, John's head poked up to give Simon a betrayed look. Like a sad dog. Or hamster.

"Don' look at me with that tone. I feel the exact same way about you."

With that, John put his head back down, snuggled into your neck. Strong arms adjusted around you, warm breath on your skin. Stubble poked at your skin, little open-mouthed kisses left along your neck. Quiet mewls of protest tumbled from your lips, scruffy facial hair scraping at you. It was all in vain, however, since John was determined to get a few dozen kisses in.

You huffed, eyes still pressed closed. Too bad none of you were ever stationary enough to have a proper place. Each of you had done a little over ten years of service each. But that was the dream, wasn't it? A little home, just the three of you, all cozied up and comfortable. Making lunch for work, cooking and cleaning together.

The domestic life seemed so far away now. How could you go back after... after the horrors?

A soft sigh left your lips. Now wasn't the time to get all sad and melancholy. You combed a hand through John's hair, your cheek pressed to his forehead. During your little zone-out-session, he'd chilled out and practically fallen asleep. Dork.

"You should get some sleep."

Simon's voice rumbled in your ear, soft and murmured as he spoke. "You're more spacey than usual. Just take a nap."

With a soft mumble of appreciation, you let yourself relax. Right here, right now, everything was alright. For just a moment, everything was alright with the world.

And maybe... Maybe it would be okay.

i just think these heights are really funny (stars is my oc :)

[iceman-soup]

FELLOW ACE!! Could I get some physical (but non-sexual) intimacy w/ Ghost? Thanks :D

YES OF COURSEEE ENJOY!!!!

masc!reader x ghost

Sometimes all anyone needs is a good nap, no matter how much they deny it or huff or grumble or say they've got "more important stuff to do". Sometimes it's necessary to drag them away from their endless tasks that they really don't have to worry about right now anyway, when instead they could be sprawled across their partner and forced to just rest.

Which is exactly how you have Ghost now. Sure, he'd resisted and complained and tried to dart back off to his office, but the moment you shut the door to your room, clicking the lock in place, he was entirely compliant in letting you step him out of his boots, slide the t-shirt over his head and swap out his work trousers for much more comfy joggers. He still huffed and rolled his eyes, yet when you started changing yourself he was quick to drop your shirt to the floor, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his nose into your neck.

"C'mere, love," you murmur, kissing the shell of his ear and guiding him to lie down on the bed, his tired frame blanketing over yours, grunting as he gets comfortable. He starts to get all whiny, grumbling incoherently and rubbing his masked face on your bare shoulder until you hold him still and gently ease away his balaclava, putting it - still in reach - on the bedside table. He meets your lips in a soft kiss, then pecks them around your face, targeting first the cheeks, then nose, then eyelids. It makes you laugh and he loves the sound; loves the feel as your chest rumbles against his, your hands holding his waist and his in your hair and over your heart. He settles down and his fingertips carry the bu-dum, bu-dum, bu-dum from your body to his.

You ask him about his day, a question anyone could present, but rarely will he answer properly like he does with you. Scarred lips curl into a tiny smile as he recounts each detail, talking quietly so that nobody could listen in if they tried. If you commented on that, he'd say it wouldn't matter anyway; there was no importance in rambling about the "incompetence of some recruits" (as he so elegantly put it). And of course, you would be inclined to disagree; hearing him go on and on about something as mundane as how had his day been - that was the favourite part of your own day, as you trace invisible patterns into his skin, running a finger over the ridges of his spine and feeling him just melt into you.

[hobvitr]

I don't know if you do male reader too, but if not.. you can make a fic where a gn!reader help Gwen sleep? I'm also Brazilian too, my english is terrible and I don't know how to request anything-

gwen stacy x reader

gn!reader

genre/warnings: fluff, angst, comfort, just a little blurb, unrevised writing, this is short, sorry :(

note: obrigada pelo pedido!! nos brasileiros temos que nos unir! sorry, i don't tend to do male reader because I don't know how to write from the male perspective :( so i prefer to do gn!reader so you can insert yourself whenever gender you are! recommended song: say yes to heaven - lana del rey

sinopses: gwen needs you so she can sleep.

you were already laying in your bed, your earphones on and scrolling through your social midias. it was 2:34am, so you just assumed all your friends and your girlfriend were asleep.

you heard the window of your room opening, making you turn your head abruptly to the side, taken by surprise at gwen's sudden appearance. you got out of your blankets, going to check up on her.

"are you okay? did something happened?" you asked, your voice low due the time of the morning. your arms coming to hug her and she did the same, sighing as her head nuzzled on your neck. "i can't sleep..."

you could hear the exhaustion in her voice, your expression dropping with worry for her health. "i can help you sleep" you said softly, now holding both her hands, looking at her with your head leaning slightly to the side. you hear her humming while nodding.

you took her by the hand to lay down with you. you manage to find a comfortable position, facing her. "sorry for bothering you..." she whispered, her hand on your waist, drawing little shapes involuntarily. "don't be sorry, baby, i'm here for you at every moment you need me." you comforted your girlfriend, your left hand going to caress her cheek.

"I'm happy you came to me so i can help you" you smiled softly at her, gaining a little grin in exchange. you got closer to her, holding her ever so tightly, but not much to make her uncomfortable. her face nuzzling between your shoulder and neck, taking in your scent. she was finally getting sleepy. "it's okay, you can sleep how much you need to, I'll be here when you wake up, okay?" you said, lips touching the top of her head, feeling the silky blonde hair.

"thank you, babe" she mumbled just loud enough for you to hear. "i love you" she whispered quietly making your heart sink in your chest. "i love you too" you whispered back.

you waited for her to fall asleep, which didn't take longer than 5 minutes at your presence, then you fell asleep too, with the her warmth and the blankets you were sharing. you blacked out till 8am, opening your eyes to be met with gwen's back. you smiled softly, seeing she was still there, asleep, with you. you hug her middle making her become the little spoon, face snuggling at the nape of her neck.

even asleep, her arms wrap above yours, being as close as possible to you, and she was surely dreaming about you, because she had a slight smile at her lips. you made her feel safe, strong and complete, she couldn't ask for anything more.

[naivegh0ul]

ABSOLUTELY SPLENDID (also omg hiii! Pain buddies ♡♡♡)

If its ok could you do Gn!Reader at least? Since im just a gay lil lad. (I'm a guy but I feel a lil rude to ask for masc!Reader 👉👈)

Anyway! Reader with a cane and chronic pain and EDS related issues (like hypermobile joints) and ghost being so kind about it especially since reader is young and "looks healthy"

Always anxious about using their cane because of certain people making comments like that. Like they can walk without it a bit but will be so sad and achy cause their legs and back hurts and so many places just do NOT have enough seating. (Often ends up sitting on the floor even to rest even though its such a hassle to sit down or push themselves up)

Scary dog privilege ghost being such a good emotional support, being so gentle with reader to use their mobility aid while also being so scary to someone if they try to say something or give a look.

Ghost being like a human reminder to take breaks, fix posture (you know with hypermobility and 'knee locking'), take your cane, pain killers for more busy days etc. Cause he just cares so fucking much and wants to make sure reader is in the least amount of pain possible.

Probably would carry reader if they asked

Just!! Need soft ghost comforts cause im such a sad achy boy rn.

(Also a lil unrelated to chronic pain but I need him to lay his full body weight on my small body cause I am the autistic and I crave that pressure and also feel like it would do WONDERS for my back)

how and why are you so relatable!!!! also don't ever feel rude or awkward ab requesting masc reader, pls request whatever you want <333

Ghost understands your chronic pain, after all, he's getting shot at on the daily so he's pretty achey all over. He's always reassuring you whenever you're having one of your bad days, cuddling you close to him when you sniffle and sob into his chest from the pain :(

He's such a sweetheart about it and always carries a spare cane with him wherever he goes. People don't question an older veteran carrying around a cane so you don't have to worry about people giving you weird looks about it.

And if it's one of those days where you're really feeling anxious about using your mobility aids in public, Ghost will just carry you. He doesn't want you sitting on the hard, dirty floor so he'll have you on his back or holding you bridal-style.

He calls you his little backpack when he's carrying you on his back. Sometimes people look at him weird because why is Ghost carrying a full grown man on his back? Ghost just glares at them, gives them a 'don't say anything bad about my partner or I'll kill you' type of look.

He is like a human alarm clock sometimes, pops up behind you and whispers "Have you taken your meds?" in your ear before magically producing them, pulling them out of his pocket. (and an entire water bottle??)

I need him to lay me too, dude. After a long day of you using your cane, he'll feed you and make you take your medication before laying you in bed and putting his entire body weight on top of you.

This man will become a heated, weighted blanket in an instant. He'll have you lay your head on your wedge pillow and will flop on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck and praising you for how well you did today and how you took all of your meds and used your mobility aid when you needed it instead of trying to push through the pain.

[a-5-m-0-d-3-u-5]

Compartmentalizing here because if it's in a note on my phone, it's gone and I wanna share my ideas

Zombie apocalypse scenario because that's how I got fuckin neck deep in this cod stuff to begin with and there aren't enough for male/gn readers or aren't super depressing (angst is fun but I'm a hurt comfort man)

Posting that price one shot I already wrote

Fulfilling a request (technically two but they're very similar so I may lump them into one? TBD)

Got a ghost thing I've got kinda scribbled out in a doc

Polyam ghoap where one if them is kidnapped instead of you (I know I said Johnny in my little blurb but also the antsy possibilities of ghost being napped instead is making me go wild)

More polyam stuff in general cuz four pretty boys all snuggling me and each other? Yeah

That price x loyal dog fic I wanna write. May very possibly make it a hybrid au thing cuz I see a lot of those but I make absolutely no promises on that exact detail happening lol

Also no promises but I do wanna continue my castlevania fic at some point. It's one of the most fun things I've ever written and I miss it

Edit: also royal au stuff too because ugh prince x knight forbidden/hidden love type stuff absolutely destroys me

I think that's it jfc writing brainworms really just go hog wild when you allow yourself to indulge huh