#task force 141 x you

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: How's your drink? Simon: Y/N: Simon: Have you poisoned me? Y/N: Don't be so dramatic. It's a mild sedative, enjoy your rest

[luvvictoria]

You're pregnant ?

+ pairings. tf141 x female reader

+ tags. pregnancy headcanons ; soft tf141 ; protective tf141 ; dad mode price ; worried ghost ; bff soap ; no nonsense gaz ; momma bear reader ; tf141 babysitting you 24/7 ; Price is stress aging ;

+ a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you for reading my shit!!

+ summary. just headcanons of them reacting to your pregnancy now that you're close to your due date

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

🏷️ Captain John Price

"Bloody hell, love, you’re still out here waddlin’ about?"

Acts like a grumpy dad about it but secretly worries 24/7.

Tries to gently push you toward desk duty, but you refuse.

If you're on the field, you can bet your ass he's making sure you’re paired up with him or someone responsible.

Has strict rules for you—no breaching, no close combat, no heavy lifting.

Gets annoyed when you brush him off:

"Price, I’m pregnant, not dying."

"Yeah, well, let’s keep it that way, yeah?"

The second you show signs of fatigue or discomfort, he orders you to sit down and hydrate.

💀 Simon "Ghost" Riley

"You’re built different, I’ll give you that."

Ghost acts unbothered, but this man is watching you like a hawk.

If you so much as wince, he’s side-eyeing you like: 👀

Will not hesitate to carry you if he thinks you’re overexerting yourself.

You: "Ghost, put me down."

Him: "Nah."

Starts casually dropping medical articles about pregnancy complications in the group chat.

If someone makes a comment about you still working, Ghost just stares them down until they shut up.

Will carry your gear for you with zero hesitation.

🧼 John "Soap" MacTavish

"C’mon, bonnie, ye gotta let us take care o’ ya!"

Soap is so excited about the baby, but he’s also lowkey stressed because you're still working.

Talks to your belly like a weirdo:

"Oi, wee one, tell yer mum tae take a break, aye?"

Tries to convince you to let him do all the hard work.

Always checking if you're eating enough:

"Ye havin’ cravings? I’ll get whatever ye want!"

"Soap, I just ate."

"Aye, but did ye eat enough?"

Gets so offended when you refuse his help.

If you sigh, if you shift uncomfortably, if you rub your belly, he’s immediately concerned.

🧢 Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"Are we seriously letting her work like this?"

Gaz is the realistic one who keeps reminding you that you’re carrying a tiny human inside you.

If you insist on working, he compromises by making sure you’re as safe as possible.

"[name] , swear to God, if I catch you trying to run, I’m putting you in time-out."

No caffeine for you. If he catches you trying to sneak some, he will snatch it.

Probably the most vocal about wanting you to take it easy.

"Price, tell her she’s crazy."

👑 Bonus: General TF141 Dynamics

If you bend down to pick something up, at least two guys are there before you.

"No combat for you." If a mission gets dangerous, someone physically blocks you.

They’re all secretly excited for the baby.

Soap and Gaz are making bets on the baby’s gender.

Ghost is the quiet protector.

Price acts like your dad.

They love you, but they’re all stressed out because you’re still working. 💀

[gloomwitchwrites]

I had a diabolical idea...what if the find out reader has been faking her O's...maybe it's harder for her to cum than others and doesn't wanna bother them or maybe they're not doing enough...

Love your writing btw🪷💗💗

Oh, so we're faking it? Diabolical. I love it. Yeah, so, this is just me writing smut for the sake of smut. We want to fake it with them? Guess again. They're getting those orgasms out of us.

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv, one-night stands, dirty talk, creampie, cock warming, praise, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering

Word Count: 1.7k

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

John Price

“No. No, love.” John clucks his tongue, disappointed. “You don’t fake it with me.”

He pushes off from the bed, going down on his knees. Grasping your ankles, John tugs, pulling you down to the very edge of the bed.

“John—”

“Hush,” he coos. “And keep those legs open for me, dove. Gonna make sure you come, yeah?”

John presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing lightly in slow little circles. One finger teases your entrance, slides in, and then out. John adds a second, removing his thumb, he replaces it with his lips, kissing your clit.

Slow and languid, your thighs quiver, the start of an orgasm blooming low in your belly.

“There we are,” he smiles.”

His lips part, the tip of his tongue brushing over your clit in a tease even as his fingers pump steadily in and out of your pussy.

The pleasure builds. Widening.

“You have such a gorgeous pussy,” he praises. “Love watching how well you take me. Fingers and cock.”

He flattens his tongue, running it around where your body takes his fingers before swirling up to tease your clit. The groan that claws up your throat is real and loud, and John purrs with contentment.

“Come for me. Let me hear you.”

John sucks on your clit and it’s over. Back arching, you come off the bed a bit, whimpering as your pussy squeezes around his fingers.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he groans against you, slowing the movement of his fingers.

You’re still buzzing when John stands, slotting himself between your legs. His hand lightly grasps your throat, forcing you to look at him. “Will you ever fake it with me again?”

You shake your head.

“Good. Now let’s breed you properly, yeah?”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You force out a moan. It is higher than it usually is—louder. Kyle stills mid-thrust, the middle of his brow creasing slightly in concern.

“What was that?” he asks.

Oh shit.

It’s been a long day, and while you want to have sex with Kyle, part of you just isn’t feeling it. Having this intimacy is lovely, but you’re also not…committed.

“What was what?” you reply, avoiding the question.

Kyle shifts his weight to an elbow. “I know when you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I am.”

“You’re not.”

Busted.

“Hey. Look at me.” Kyle’s hand slides to the back your neck. “We can stop.”

You lightly shake your head. “That’s not it.”

His thumb traces the line of your jaw. “Talk to me,” he murmurs, following that caress with a brush of his lips.

“I’m—I’m just feeling it.”

Kyle hums softly, placing a soft kiss just to the side of your mouth. “If you want to stop, we can stop.”

“No,” you whisper, hooking your legs around him a little tighter. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Okay,” says Kyle. “Okay.”

Shifting from his elbow to his hand, Kyle starts to withdraw, his cock sliding out slowly. You relinquish, dropping your legs wide as he kisses softly down your body.

“Just relax,” he coos, moving lower. “Relax.”

You settle, eyes closing as his mouth finds your clit. He gives it one kiss, then two. The tip of his tongue teases. Withdraws. Teases again.

“Kyle,” you breathe, a flicker of pleasure awakening.

“Don’t ever fake it with me, love.” Kyle flattens his tongue against you. Pressure. Retreat. Pressure again.

This time your groan from somewhere deep in your throat.

“There it is,” he coos. “Come for me.”

Kyle returns, tasting and tasting in the same rhythm, never deviating, pushing you closer to your end. Another brush of his tongue and it’s over. All the muscles in your body contract, seize, shudder. Your thighs squeeze his cheeks, but Kyle doesn’t seem to care that you might crush him, continuing to lick and suck.

When your hand presses to the top of his head, overstimulation filtering in, that’s when Kyle lifts his head.

“No faking it with me, ya hear?”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Are you fucking faking right now?”

“I—no. Simon. I’m not.”

Heat creeps up your neck and ensnares your cheeks. You’ve been caught, and you don’t want to admit it.

“You are,” says Simon slowly. You shake your head but Simon tuts. “Lying won’t help, dove.” He leans in and lightly bites your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. He releases it with a wet pop. “You think I want you to fake it?”

This time, you answer truthfully. “No.”

“Think I want you to hide when you’re not into it?”

“No.”

“Come here, dove.”

Lifting you into his lap, Simon shifts you around until you’re leaning against his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Gripping the underside of your thighs, Simon eases you down onto his cock, keeping your legs spread wide and draped over his thick, muscled thighs.

“You don’t fake it with me, dove,” murmurs Simon as he nuzzles your exposed neck. He lightly bites, and then eases the sting with a kiss. “Touch yourself.”

“Simon,” you gasp as his lips trace the curve of your ear.

“Do it.”

Bringing your hand down between your thighs, you make a v with your index and middle finger, parting your pussy to expose your clit and where you and Simon’s bodies meet.

“Fucking gorgeous, dove,” groans Simon, his voice honey-sweet. “Take me so well.”

The praise washes over you, seeping into your pores. Bringing your fingers together, you slide them back and forth over your clit. Simon’s hands shift to the tops of your thighs. They press down just as his hips snap up.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“That’s it,” murmurs Simon. “Keep going.”

You find a pace and sink into the sensation. With each pass of your fingers, and every upward thrust from Simon, the orgasm builds. This you can’t fake.

“Gonna fuck you hard, dove. Don’t you dare stop. Understand?”

You nod frantically, and Simon smiles against your throat.

Keeping you in place, Simon fucks up into you over and over again, driving home in powerful strokes that steal your breath. You follow his order, playing with your clit, allowing the orgasm to build until your heart thunders in your ears.

“That’s it,” coos Simon as your orgasm unfolds. “That’s it.”

It’s a full shudder and open mouth silence as you’re cracked over the head with euphoric pleasure. Simon is grunting into your ear, his hips thrusting upward quickly now as you squeeze down on his cock.

“Simon,” you manage to moan.

“Gonna fake it again with me?”

“No,” you gasp. “Never.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Fucking look at you,” croons Johnny.

His large hands palm your ass, squeezing both cheeks. Releasing slowly, Johnny’s hands slide to your hips and then up to your waist before shifting to your back, caressing your spine. You shiver under his touch, arching your hips a bit more, rocking back to take more of his cock.

From the bar, to buying you a drink, to going home with him all in the span of a few hours. Now, you’re in his bed. He’s fucked you twice, and you haven’t orgasmed once. But you’ve faked it, groaned loudly and with enthusiasm when he’s finished inside you.

Johnny’s hands wrap around your throat, and then he’s fucking you, using you like he’d use a toy. The very idea is fucking delicious and yet the building tension plateaus, leaving you hanging as Johnny holds your body against his, cum filling your pussy.

Your head drops, the tingling edge receding, leaving you aching. Johnny’s hands remain around your throat, his thumbs rubbing slow circles across the back of your neck.

“You know,” he murmurs absently. “I think you’ve been lying to me.”

Turning your head, you glance over your shoulder. “Lying to you?”

Johnny hums as he eases himself from your body. “On your back,” he instructs, lightly tapping the outside of your thigh.

You roll onto your back, and Johnny spreads your legs wide. Your cum-coated pussy greets him, and Johnny smirks at the sight.

“I know what it feels like when a woman orgasms,” he says, hands sliding up and down your inner thighs. “There’s nothing else like it.” With one hand still on your thigh, Johnny palms his cock, jerking himself back to hardness.

“How—how did you—”

“Know?” he asks, tapping the head against your clit. “Would have felt you squeeze my cock, love.”

Johnny lines himself up and slides home, bottoming out. “I’m staying right here. Play with you until you orgasm. And if you don’t squeeze my cock hard enough to make me come, I’ll keep playing with you until I do.”

A quick swipe of his thumb and Johhny drags some of his cum up to your clit. He lightly presses—swirls. A little shock of pleasure shoots through your body, and your pussy briefly flutters around Johnny’s cock.

“Just like that,” he groans, continuing to circle your clit. “Just like that.”

With your legs spread wide, you’re unable to clamp them shut as Johnny plays with your clit. His cock remains in place, unmoving. It’s just his fingers and the deliciously dirty words dripping from his lips.

“Do you know how fucking gorgeous you look right now?”

“Full of my cock.”

“Full of my cum.”

His words are slow and languid but his fingers play a perfect dance. Your breath quickens, toes curling as Johnny finds the perfect pace. You whimper, the orgasm quickly rising to the surface.

“There it is,” croons Johnny. “Give it to me, love. Let me hear you. Let me fucking feel you.”

The pent-up tension from three faked orgasms comes blasting forward. Your head falls back, and you release a feral groan, body shaking under the tension.

“Oh, fucking hell,’ grunts Johnny as his fingers dig into your thigh, keeping you firmly against the bed as he continues to flick your clit.

He rubs and continues to do so even as the orgasms crests and recedes.

“It’s too much,” you gasp, but Johnny only shakes his head.

“My cock is still inside you, love. Once I cum inside this tight little pussy, then we’ll stop.”

taglist:

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@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving

[imreadng]

you couldn’t help it — the turning of your head. the way your eyes followed the poster as you walk pass by it. you couldn’t even read what it was about, but it doesn’t matter when your hand feels so empty.

the interlocked fingers. the two palms wrapped in a gentle embrace. such a simple display of affection, and yet it is one you’re unfamiliar with.

it hasn’t been long since you and simon started dating. despite his reserved disposition, he had always cared for you in his own way. his little gestures and actions spoke more than his words could ever tell, but the nature of his job meant that he could only do so much.

you try not to think about the ache in your chest. you try not to, and yet, you can’t help but spare simon a glance. his eyes were soft as he took yours in, and you slowly turn your gaze away as if you had never looked at him.

the two of you continue walking in silence. somehow, it feels as if a whole conversation had just took place. there was tension in the air, one you were sure only you could feel. it wasn’t until a moment later that your face starts heating up from a sudden realization.

simon has been staring at you for who knows how long.

it has you looking away from his general direction. you’re fidgeting with your collar before scratching at your neck, as if it could get rid of the goosebumps that have erupted from the sensation of his gaze. you have never wanted to go back home as badly as you do now, and you can’t help but let your brows pinch themselves together from how ridiculous you found your situation to be.

embarrassment strikes you right at the chest. you shouldn’t be acting like this around simon, but you are. even with the knowledge, you can’t find it in yourself to ask for his touch, too nervous now to do anything.

a sigh escape your lips, and you pass it off as you catching your breath. you round the next corner almost too eagerly, knowing that at the end of the alley, you will be able to reach the apartment building at last. it’s a struggle having to keep yourself from picking up the pace, but before you could even do much, a calloused hand meets your own. its movements were light, a stark contrast to its sturdy form. fingers burrow in between yours, finding solace in your hold.

you weren’t able to stop yourself from looking back at simon. his figure is slightly hunched, and his eyes only focus on the path ahead. you raise the hand he’s holding to accommodate his height despite his face showing no sign of discomfort. his ears, however, has a slight blush to it, and it makes you wonder if he had been as shy as you were.

“lovie?”

the nickname, along with the gravelly voice, pulls you out of your thoughts.

“if y’keep on starin’ at me like tha’, ya might just bump into a pole.”

you scrunch your face in mock anger, glaring at him with the intent of appearing irritated. the grip you have on his hand strengthens in pressure, and he responds with an amused snicker. you march forward, wanting to go past by him when THUMP!

your free hand immediately goes to caress your forehead after having been hit by the electrical pole that was somehow standing right in the direction that you were headed.

between the slits of your squinted eyes, you could see the hazy image of simon kneeling before you. his touch was kind as he brushes his fingers along your warm skin. just when you thought you were free from embarrassment, it comes back to slap you directly in the face. you lower your head, unsure if you could look at him anymore.

“y’alright, sweetheart?” simon asks, and you nod before scoffing in disbelief. you refuse to meet his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to mind. he continues holding your hand, giving it a squeeze or two, and the smallest smile finally tugs at the corner of your lips. the tension leave your features as you start to relax.

“i’ll try my best to be ‘ere whenever y’need me. so jus’ tell me if ya need anythin’, yeah?”

simon pushes himself up, and you return the squeeze he had given you earlier. you could easily tell yourself that he’s only saying that because you’ve hit your head, but you know better. he’s there when you begin moving forward in small, slow steps, and you allow yourself to rest against his arm.

“thank you, si.”

his grasp tightens just a bit.

[stargirlstabber]

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

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING… tf 141 x hacker! reader

pt one

You needed a way to lighten your prison sentence and Task Force needed a hacker who actually knew what they were doing.

It was a win-win situation if it wasn’t for the fact that you always work alone. Teamwork? That was an unheard concept to you.

You, with a criminal record so long it could be used as a blanket. You who came from a mafia family so it’s no wonder such a sweet looking doll ended up in prison for stealing valuable files.

Task Force 141, an elite squad who had no idea how to spend their hefty pay checks. The idea of a special woman in their lives was merely a figment of their imagination until Laswell threw your files down in front of him.

You were young, barely twenty-seven. The tattoo ink decorating your body with feminine designs was a harsh contrast to your background. And when you sneered at the camera, it gave a perfect view of your tongue piercing and gems adorning your teeth.

In short, you were the perfect little thing they could spoil.

“Reaper? Why do they call her that?”

“Because it’s the last name you learn before a bullet pierces your fucking skull. Once she steals your information, there’s no getting it back. And when she shares it with your enemies, you’re a deadman walking.”

[maladaptivewritings]

Just imagining Simon's hands,

Imagining him helping you out during a workout, his calloused palms coaxing you to try one more rep. Those wounds, long since healed that would glisten in the light, pale compared to the flesh around it. How the weight of his palm would feel in the arch of your back as he corrects your posture.

Simon Riley, who hates physical touch, doing this just because he remembers what it's like to want, no need to be strong.

Until it isn't just about helping you anymore.

Until it's wanting to intertwine fingers because he can see how soft yours are.

Until it's wanting to push the hair out of your face,

Imagining the night, he realized how bad he had it for you, how he palmed at himself through his sweatpants. The rough palms rubbed against such soft and tender skin. The friction driving him mad as he felt the tension rise more and more.

Simon riley, who, up until now, only knew he could do harm with them.

Until you paint his nails, in boredom, he agreed just to feel your warmth.

Until he mindlessly trailed his fingers across you, leaving chills on your skin.

Until seeing how you react when he trails closer and closer to your thighs, your face gets more and more red as he does.

Imagining the scars and reminders of his past, all while using that same hand to grasp at your plush flesh. Yelps and moans escaping your mouth as he does so. The movie in the background long since forgotten as he gropes your chest, their harsh nature making the satisfaction even better.

Simon Riley, seeing you squirm under his touch and craving it as much as be does yours.

Who makes a habit of holding your waist during workouts now,

Who enjoys taking his hands within your own as you go about your day.

And who enjoys are the noises you make at the end of those days

[lxvvie]

using their dogtags as a leash 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ >>>

For Price, you used his dog tags to pull him up from between your legs so you could kiss him and yes, thanks to you, his beard is blessed and highly moisturized.

You're the one with Soap's tags on and he's using them to keep you upright, lips brushing together but not quite kissing, as he fucks you nice and slow on the countertop.

Well, you... you don't know how you got Gaz's tags in your hand but you have them. The only thing you remembered was you two with your tongue down each other's throat and now you're face first in the pillow, doggy-style, one hand clutching the sheets for dear life and the other holding his tags to stay as sane as possible. Which can only work but for so long because the dick is good and you keep trying to move away, but Gaz has an iron grip on them hips. 💋

You might've been aiming for Simon's... shoulders? Neck? Fuck if you know. You were just aiming to hold on to something when he first thrust that cock home. It always happens whenever he enters you; it takes your breath away, you gasp, shudder, press against him even more, try to hold on to him but one hand's clutching his chain, and... bloody fuckin' hell, it feels so damn good.

[sigh-tofm]

the night before they leave for deployment…

… price

- takes you out. you go to an expensive restaurant and eat the best they have. cost is not an issue. price orders two fingers of their finest bourbon and you get a glass of whatever you want. you go for a little walk after, hand in hand, just pretending to be two regular people in a regular relationship. you’re home at a sensible time (price needs to sleep a fair few hours before deploying) and you sit in the bathroom, gazing at him as he trims his moustache with that hard look in his eyes. he’s had last nights like these too many times to be wondering about what is waiting for him in the morning. he knows it won’t be pleasant, so there’s no use in pretending. later, in bed, he pulls you onto his chest and holds you there, knowing the next time it he falls asleep it will be with a cold, hard rifle in his arms. better savour your warm, soft body for as long as he can.

… kyle

- just wants to be intimate with you. not sex, but closeness. you sit him in front of the bathroom mirror and trim his hair, he lays you down on the rug in the living room and works through all your muscle knots. you do facemasks together. you sit side by side on kitchen chairs pulled into the bathroom with your feet in the tub, taking a footbath together. you uncork one of the your fancier bottles of wine (kyle only has a small glass, can’t risk getting hungover the day after) and drink it with your favourite takeout. you go to bed together, holding each other, breathing each other in. if this is the last night, it better be the best night.

… johnny

- has you in his favourite positions. you let him manipulate your body and fulfil his fantasies with you. afterwards you take a long shower together, you touch up is mohawk after, stroke him all over. committing every detail, every scar and mole, to memory. he does the same with you, although you suspect it’s mostly to have wank material for late nights or long watches when he’s deployed. no matter. you order takeout when you’re both dressed again, eat it on the floor in front of the sofa while watching a stupid comedy. anything to take your minds off of the inevitable. you go to bed late and he spoons you. you don’t mind how tightly he holds you, knowing that when you wake up, you will be alone.

… simon

- behaves a little eerie. you don’t know exactly how he changes, how he becomes this ghost-person you have only heard stories of from johnny. you know simon tries to keep you away from it all and never brings work home, least of all his mask. he spends the last night with you on the sofa, him sitting sideways and you on his lap. you’ve ordered good food, and while you eat and watch the movie, he watches you. boring into you with those amber eyes. you don’t comment on it, understanding that this is some kind of ritual for him. knowing that you are real, that you exist, that he needs to come home to you. you speak very little, only pragmatic sentences about passing the pop. the first few times it unnerved you, the way he was so quiet, but now you enjoy getting to be what he needs, however little you understand the process. eventually you both fall asleep on the sofa, and when you wake up you’re tucked neatly into bed, alone.

[luxcuriousao3]

Imagining another angsty and implausible scenario with the 141 cuz why not.

The 141 goes undercover and meet you, a sweet little thing who has no idea what the people she works for actually do. Think oblivious hostess at a restaurant that's actually a mafia front. And fuck if you're not a distraction, greeting them with a pretty smile every morning, asking about their day, offering to help whatever task they have to do. (They've been ordered to go kill a few someones. You were thinking more along the lines of fetching the tea while they did paper work). Johnny definitely fucks you at some point. He can't help himself. Dog with a bone, that one.

Cue their cover being blown, and when more traditional methods of torture prove unsuccessful, your boss decides to use their fondness for you against them.

And thus begins one of my favorite tropes, "being tortured in front of your love interest."

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ synopsis; you thought your bond with the pack was unshakable—until an unexpected stranger arrives in town. suddenly, you find yourself pushed out of their hearts. now you must uncover the truth before it’s too late, or risk losing everything.

↣ moodboard

chapter one;

chapter two;

chapter three;

chapter four;

chapter five;

chapter six;

chapter seven;

chapter eight;

chapter nine;

chapter ten;

chapter eleven;

chapter twelve;

chapter thirteen;

chapter fourteen;

chapter fifteen;

chapter sixteen;

chapter seventeen;

chapter eighteen;

chapter nineteen;

chapter twenty;

chapter twenty-one;

epilogue

banner credit

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Fuck me if I'm wrong but- Ghost: Wrong. You are wrong Y/N: I haven't even said- Ghost, taking his shirt off: You are WRONG

[midnightcrw]

Even though Simon is quite an intimidating man and most people are afraid of him, sometimes he's quite adorable, especially when he has a fever. With the blanket pulled up to his chin and the pillows all fluffed up, all you can see is his head while his nose is red from blowing it on tissues.

Though you would never admit out loud that you find him adorable like that, you think it's obvious from the way Simon looks at you with a deadpan expression on his face.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," you scold him lightly as you put both hands on your hips.

"Then don't treat me like a baby," his voice was hoarse because of his cold, and it sounded different because his nose was all stuffy.

And hearing him sound like that made you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from cooing, which you definitely didn't succeed in doing.

"Get out," he coughed in between as he slowly turned away from you.

"But-"

"Out."

And that's when you immediately left your shared bedroom.

"Open your mouth."

"I never thought I would hear these words from you," Simon said with a raspy tone.

"Open!" He knew you were frustrated and that's why he now kept his mouth tightly shut, just to provoke you even more.

"Come on," you said as you pushed the spoon full of cough syrup towards his lips, but Simon just shook his head frantically as he dodged the spoon, causing some of the syrup to drip onto the sheets.

You let out a heavy sigh of annoyance while cursing inwardly as you stood up to get the wet wipes to clean up at least some of it, but not before you caught Simon grinning at you like an idiot.

"I saw that!" you yelled as you slammed the door shut.

"I wasn't even hiding it!" Simon tried to shout back, which ended in a coughing fit.

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)

Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!

Presented in four double drabbles.

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

Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.

Yet he feels completely out of control.

This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.

Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.

A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.

Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.

His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.

Good. Fucking good.

You turn too, brow furrowed.

"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.

John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."

"Y—yes. Sir."

The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.

What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.

Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.

Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.

“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“That,” he growls.

Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”

The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.

“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.

Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.

"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.

"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"

"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.

Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.

He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.

The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.

You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.

But that hardly matters.

Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.

He is so close to making you his.

No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)

"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."

Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.

It still hurts. Still aches.

The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.

His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.

"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.

Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.

"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.

"She's mine."

"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.

One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.

"Take a deep breath, Lt."

"I'm trying."

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[imreadng]

simon riley with a bilingual reader. grocery shopping is tough because—

“what’s the red thing called again?” you look up at him with furrowed brows. you swear you know what you're talking about, the word is there at the very tip of your tongue.

simon, on the other hand, is wracking his brain trying to guess the thing that you want. apples? meat? what has been missing in the kitchen lately?

“y’know, the thing in pasta...” you mumble with your head now hung low, gesturing with your hands as if you could feel the very thing on your palms.

ah. simon finds himself nodding at the realization.

“y’mean tomatoes, lovie?”

just like that, you’re clapping your hands and pointing at him with a “yeah, tomatoes!” and he couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle.

“wha’s it called in y’r language, anyway?” simon asks, and he would try pronouncing it to the best of his abilities.

there have been times when you have been too frustrated to clarify whatever you had in mind. you would either say it in broken english or abandon the cursed speech all together so you could murmur to yourself in the language you’ve always known.

it wasn’t easy having this barrier between you two, but man will simon give his all if it means being able to understand you. he wants to hear your every thought, need, and desire — to connect with you in a way that’s so personal.

you better believe that he’s working his ass off to get to that point. in the end, he will do anything for you.

even if that means having to utter words that are barely comprehensible.

“hey, you’re doing it!” you beam at him, eyes twinkling with mirth as simon tries muttering tomato in your native language. “you’re doing really good!”

maybe it isn’t so bad if you’re cheering him on like that.

next part : “it isn’t garlic, is it?”

[sheeple]

Okay so is this kinda inspired by my own wishfull thinking? Yes absolutely. Do I give a damn? Absolutely not. Warnings? Age gap (reader 23/John 35) / Reader lives at home / kinda rushed because I want it out of my system :)

Ever since covid you and your friend had a Tinder Night every two weeks, to help you with your never-ending singleness. And when she moved across the country to move in with her boyfriend, the Tinder Nights got digital. And by now you've also broadened your horizon to Hinge.

But one evening bored out of your mind by the selection of boys, your friend — plus her boyfriend who tries not to be invested but is failing very badly — and you decide to up the age to 30 to 40, for shits and gigs of course.

And after an evening of swiping and giggling about the creepy dudes who put their minimum age to at least 23, you kinda forget to put the age back to your five-year rule. Until you get a notification of Hinge a couple of nights later.

John has liked your photo! Match to continue the conversation.

You hesitate at first. From the small picture, the notif gives you you can see that the guy isn't 25 of something. Opening the app, you scroll through his profile.

He's... handsome. You're not going to deny that with short brown hair and a pretty mighty moustache and beard, he kinda gives you puppy vibes as his eyes radiate kindness.

His profile says he's 35 and in the army. Pretty tall too. And his prompts are pretty hilarious too. At least... you think so.

You send a screenshot to your friend of his answer to:

I'm totally obsessed with: Sleeping in a freshly washed bed.

You: Oh he's... like ADULT adult Your friend: That answer comes across as if he is going to give you tips about the airfryer

And against your better judgement... you match with him.

The conversation is awkward at first (from your side at least) but slowly and surely you start to warm up. His jokes are horrible and dad-jokey but make you smile anytime he sends them. He's the first person you text and the last one from whom you check if you have a message before going to sleep.

After a week he asks you out to dinner. He wants to meet you and see if you match each other in real life. And you agree.

So that Friday, after work, you get all dolled up and you ask your mother to drop you off so you can drink a cocktail or two and don't have to worry about driving.

When you walk into the restaurant your breath hitches. There he is, waiting patiently for you. He's wearing a simple white button-up with the sleeves rolled up his arms and dark slacks. Effortlessly handsome.

John rises from his seat when you approach and hugs you, a wide smile on his face. He pulls the chair out for you, like the gentleman he is, and asks about your day.

To your surprise, this is the first date you truly enjoy. John is attentive and seems to really pay attention to you and what you say. He asks about you, your job, and your life. Of course, you do the same. he's a very interesting man and his job is just amazing. He explains he's a captain in the British Army but that he's on desk duty until his injury from his last deployment has healed. He can't say a lot about his job as a Captain, but what he tells you sounds all so brave.

Without even realising hours have passed and the restaurant staff is not so subtly urging you to pay and go home. You want to grab your purse to split the bill. But John gives you a stern look and pays instead.

"You really didn't need to do that", you say as he drives you home, feeling kinda guilty that he paid the bill.

John gives you the same look as before. "Darling, my mother raised me right. And she would give me a stern talking to if she knew I would let a lady pay on the first date."

"Fine", you huff, "but next time I pay!"

"Next time huh?" He gives you a cheeky smile.

You feel your face heat up and choose to say nothing, opting to look out of the window.

John stops in front of your house and gets out to open the car door for you. He walks you to the front door and you hesitate for a moment with the key in your hand.

"I would love to invite you in for tea but..."

He nods understanding. "But you have roommates that are probably asleep by now. I get it."

Pursing your lips, you embarrassingly scratch the back of your neck. "No... I still live with my parents."

John's eyes widen with shock for a second before he masks it. "Ah. I see."

This is it, you think, I've blown it.

"It's a bit too early to meet the parents, isn't it?", he jokes and you let out a sigh of relief. You nod in agreement, a smile forming on your face.

Standing up on your tippy toes, you press a kiss against John's cheek. His beard prickles your lips but you don't mind it.

"Thanks for tonight. And thanks you for driving me home", you smile softly. "Text me when you get home safely?"

John nods and you wait before entering your home until John's driven away. Once inside you sigh deeply.

How are you going to explain to your parents that you're dating a guy who's seriously twelve years older than you?!

second part