Ghost: gains weight and isn’t underweight for the first time ever
Ghost: :/
Price: >:D
ehehehehehehehe I be just like Price fr >:) gimmegimme. but also I tipped into soft John soooo
cw: smut! implied ed. simon worrying about his weight. hand job in da mirror.
Price knew better than to announce the extra bits of food. Ghost would’ve shut down, gone back to ration bars and caffeine. So it was quiet and meethodical. One more spoonful of stew. An extra egg on the plate. A second helping passed into his hands.
“Fuel’s important,” was all Price would say.
Ghost never argued with him, but the mirror didn’t hide it, or worse, he couldn't not see it. His vest fit tighter. His belt was one notch looser. There was still muscle there, and now it was solid and filled in, softer around the edges.
He hated how it made him feel, not just the weight, though that bothered him too, but how he thought of it as vulnerability. Something that meant he was safer, living. And worse, seen.
The next time Price caught him staring at his reflection, he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, smirk tugging his mouth.
“Don’t glare at yourself like that. You look good.”
Ghost didn’t turn. “I look soft. I look—”
“You look alive.” Price pushed off the door and crossed the room.
Price came up behind him, body heat against his own, rough palms finding his skin, the faint smell of smoke and tea. His hands settled at Ghost’s waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles through the fabric. He felt all the tension coiled in Simon’s frame.
“Mm, you're warm. And makes good for grabbin' too.” Price murmured.
“You always talk this much when you’re touchin’ people?”
“Only when they need to hear it.”
Price drew him closer, pressing his chest into Ghost's back. His arms wrapped around Ghost’s middle and squeezed, nuzzling his face into Ghost's shoulder.
“You feel good,” Price said quietly. “Solid.”
Ghost huffed. But he didn't move when Price pressed his face to the back of his neck, beard scraping softly at the skin, breath hot against his bare skin.
Then Price gave him a small, teasing bite. Just enough to make Ghost swear under his breath.
“John,” he warned.
“Mm.” Price hummed against his skin, pressing a kiss where his teeth had been. “Couldn’t help myself.”
He shifted his hands, one splayed over the faint curve at Ghost's stomach, the other sliding up to his chest. “Told you. Man looks good when he’s fed.”
Ghost exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of him as he leaned back into the warmth, head tipping slightly toward Price’s shoulder.
Price's hands stayed firm against Ghost’s body, mapping the terrain of someone he’d fought beside for years but only recently dared to hold. The mirror in front of them caught their reflection, two figures, gruff and mean and larger than life, wrapped in soft light.
“Look,” Price murmured. “That’s what I see.”
Ghost’s gaze flicked up. His own reflection stared back, broad and scarred. Price looked sure behind him, hands smoothing over the plane of his ribs then his stomach.
“You’re not a ghost anymore, Simon.”
Price’s thumbs traced the faint line where vest straps usually bit into muscle at his hips. He leaned forward, his breath brushing along Ghost’s ear.
“You're handsome, Simon. You believe me, don't you?" Price's breath on his ear sent a shiver down Ghost's spine.
Ghost nodded, and his shoulders relaxed, a faint slackening of tension as Price’s hands moved higher, resting flat over his chest.
“Breathe,” Price said quietly. “Look at yourself and breathe.”
And Ghost did.
He exhaled, long and low, eyes still on the mirror, watching the way Price’s hands steadied him, warm palms over steady muscle.
“Good,” Price murmured. “That’s it.”
His touch shifted lower, tracing the line of Simon’s waist before slipping beneath Ghost's sweat pants. Price stroked him, fingers grazing until Ghost's cock stiffened in his palm. Ghost’s eyes fluttered half-shut, breath catching in his throat.
Price paused, Ghost's hips bucking forward once.
“Eyes on, Simon.”
Ghost obeyed. His gaze lifted, meeting his own reflection, and behind him, Price’s. There was hunger there, mixed with a reverence that made heat rush to Ghost's cheeks and between his legs.
"Good, that's it." Price's voice was low in his ear. His hand moved, pace steady and firm. His other hand caught Ghost's jaw, making sure the man didn't look away.
"Look at you, soft and open for me." He pressed his lips to Ghost's cheek. "So good."
Ghost moaned, his hips chasing the rhythm of Price's hand.
Price didn't rush, just pulled Ghost along until he was whimpering at every motion and every word. As if this alone could force Ghost to see what Price saw. The man he loved. The man he wanted to keep warm, and fed, and completely and utterly satisfied.
"That's it, Simon." Price said, thumb smearing pre-cum along Simon's shaft, a wet spot blooming on his sweats.
Ghost groaned, his hips bucked harder, aching for release.
Price had mercy on him then, stroking faster, mumbling quiet praise into his ear until finally Ghost came with a shuddering groan, knees shaking, nails digging into Price's arm.
Price’s hand slide up, hand lingering against his stomach, feeling the tremor in each breath.
“See that?” Price’s voice dropped lower, lips grazing near his ear. “Like I told you, handsome. Strong.”
Ghost’s jaw flexed. He didn’t trust his voice to answer.
Price eased his hands back to Ghost's hips. “You see?” he asked.
Ghost huffed. “Maybe."
“Mm.” Price smiled against his temple. “We'll work on it. 'Cause I like you just like this, Simon."
He gave one last squeeze, firm, possessive, and unbearably tender, before kissing Ghost's temple and resting his chin on Ghost’s shoulder, their eyes still meeting in the mirror.
Soap and Gaz try to pull Price into their prank war only once.
They taped an air horn under his office chair while Price was out on a coffee run, then sat back and waited for Price to come back.
Except instead of started flailing and cursing, Price seized once, grabbed his chest, and passed the fuck out.
Gaz and Soap had picked Price up and were halfway to the medical wing before they realized Price was just about dying trying not to laugh, and had not, in fact, had a scare-induced heart attack like they’d assumed.
Gaz and Soap made the silent, mutual agreement to avoid trying to prank Price again. Excellent payback aside, the maniacal tinge to Price’s laughter carries enough warning on its own.
'biiiiiiig stretch' but its price as he buries his cock i you.
You feel your heart in your throat as the tip of his cock catches against your entrance. He's so big it surely won't fit. John notices your nervous squirming and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
"It's alright, baby. Ok now, biiiig stretch, you can do it."
He pushes in slow. It burns slightly but you feel so full. Clawing at his shoulders to get him to go even slower. John doesn't listen though, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths against your skin as he bottoms out. Struggling to keep his own composure when your walls pulse and clench down on him like that.
He lets out a shaky laugh, peppering kisses over your cheeks while your sniffle and whine.
"Theeere we go. Good girl so good... Knew you could. You're always so good for me..."
Today ive been thinking about Ghost's backstory, both OG and reboot
Personally, i believe a lot of the backstory in the comics is canon to reboot Ghost. People want to argue that it isnt so bad, but imo it doesnt really make sense that some of it at least wouldnt be canon to reboot Ghost.
Why do i think that? Well for instance its the fact that he wears a skull mask. We havent seen any character that wears any mask from the campaigns. Sure u have the none campaign characters like König and Nikto, but they are mercs, not regular soldiers, and correct me if im wrong, i dont think these r characters canon to the universe?
Imo it sounds ridiculous that a lieutenant in one of the most powerful militaries in the world is going around in a skull mask, like i have a hard time believing anyone would take him serious.
Soap cracks jokes about it all the time, tho ofc he still has to be respectful , i feel thats probably how most soldiers would feel about it.
Second its how Captain Price treats him and talks about him- for example towards Laswell when he wants to create the 141
He keeps his identity hidden mostly, hes angry when he discovers that Makarov knows his full name
I genuinely believe he has a dark past in the military that had consequences on his personal life and it does suck that Activision wont give more information.
To be completely honest, i dont understand why anyone would be so against Ghost having a similar past to OG Ghost, especially when it touches on the deaths of his family members, child abuse and sexual abuse. He can be more than just an emotionless soldier, i feel these things can add much more depth to Simon and Ghost and it makes for great stories too, not just someone to goon over.
Simon wasn't gentle, he didn't know tenderness but he loved you and if you wanted something soft, he would get you everything you wanted.
That's why Price held up your ankles with a soft smile, a contrast to Simon's growl and grunt whenever he fucked you (or pounded you) deep into the mattress, sometimes any flat he could find to pin you against.
John's words were soft as his tip teased your clit, gliding against your slippery flesh before looking up at Simon who's by the armchair—eyes hooked at your flushed naked body. When he nodded, John entered you, slowly slowly, an inch at a time until you could feel him in your guts.
Price fucked you slow, holding at your hips and not letting your legs slip past his shoulder. He even called you Simon' good girl, Simon's dove, another contrast because Simon hardly used words. He even gave your nipples a grope of affection, fiddling, another difference with how Simon's whole fist wrapped around your sensitive plump flesh, squeezing hard.
John even slowed his pace, letting you ride his orgasm without overwhelming you, while Simon fucked you through it, fuckin' your cum inside you with a menacing pace of skin clapping against skin.
And looking at Simon who was stroking himself with an hand shoved in his pants, another nod, and Captain was spilling inside you in hot spurts of cum.
A moment later, the older man planted a sweet kiss over your sweaty forehead and went inside the bathroom while you glanced at Simon, smiling, and Simon smiled back roughly, before coming over and jerking his load all over your face.
I'm backkkkk. More bear for you people. Is it really John Price if it doesn't go this way? No.
WARNINGS: Bear hybrid! John Price (yummy), implied breeding kink, dubcon elements (groping, intent to mate with reader)
NAVIGATION MASTERLIST || AO3 PROFILE || TAGLIST GOOGLE FORM
FIRST PART || NEXT
You wake up overheated yet comfortable.
There’s soft grumbling right in your ear, warm breath puffing against the back of your neck, making your skin break out into goosebumps. It overwhelms you for a moment, senses slow to come into your system again. You're so sleepy, more than you were expecting. Like you could sleep for several more months.
Months.
Fuck.
You forced your body to move, turning your upper half around. How long have you been here? Why had the staff not come to collect you? Though, you're more perplexed than actually upset. Your body still hums with the desire to sink back into the furs.
Stop it.
John is behind you. The human, not the bear. You can't help but feel victorious. In some way, you believe you helped the man come back into himself. The feral state you had seen him in at the beginning has dwindled. The man is healing—hopefully.
Said man seems discontent with your movements. He palms his large hand over your stomach and pulls you back into him. He sighs as he presses his burly form as close as he can get where he isn't inside you.
"John, I am happy you shifted, but can you let me go?" You ask.
"Why would I do that, darling?" John hums.
You shift, or at least attempt to, but John is still a massive powerhouse as a human. He clicks his tongue and throws his leg over yours, pressing his face into your jugular. He inhales at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, a pleased growl leaving his lips.
"I think I will keep you," he declares.
"Keep me?" You echo incredulously.
John chuckles into your heated flesh, fangs ghosting over the delicate area. In seconds, he could end your life, and that made you swallow. This was a man who had killed with his bare hands, and now he was holding you with a possession that made your body activate its adrenaline response.
"Can't work anymore, darling," John said. "Gonna be bloody stuck here. Might as well occupy my time with something worthwhile."
"What do you mean you can't work.. John?" You're cut off as John completely rolls over on top of you.
"Shh, go back to sleep," he purrs.
You splutter for a moment, trying to accommodate for the mass on you. John seems to be content, warm body sinking back into the lull. He huffs, face softening from the hard ridges you got a glimpse of within the two minutes you have seen him, to something more youthful.
It's obvious you aren't going anywhere.
As a licensed professional, you have to spend a lot of time studying both humans as individuals, animals, and hybrids as a whole. It is intense work, one that could only truly be done through observation and field work. No books can completely inform you of how to respond to your hybrid clients.
You have never been so directly involved with one before, though.
It is an odd moment. You know you should climb free of the nest, draw the line of professionalism. Yet, your belly flutters, your head feeling fuzzy as John pins you to the ground. You can honestly fall asleep, and that was the danger.
"Relaxing?" He rasps. "That's it. Gotta get you to rest, eh? Need your energy."
Your mouth wants to question, to seek elaboration of his words. But your body feels slack now, as your eyes flutter. The change is instaneous, like something else is driving your body forward into the dreamland.
You can feel John's chest vibrating. His warm hand settles on your lower belly, his full, scraggly beard tickles your skin. He smells of sweat and pine, your nose involuntarily picking up the scents as he lazily lays on top of you.
"Settle down, cub," he chides, nipping at your flesh. "Just one little nap for me. Then I'll give you what we both want."
What do you want? Out. Yeah, that is one thing you desire more than anything. You've overstayed your welcome. You need to head back to your cabin and decide the next course of action in John's treatment plan. You can't do that while pinned beneath the lumbering bear shifter.
You don't know when, but you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of the man.
•••
John wakes you hours later. He has normal, cooked foods now that he's the man and less beast. He devours eggs and potatoes like his life depends on it. You watch him warily until he barks at you to fill your belly.
The staff provided two meals. Yet they still don't give you freedom. The enclosure doors remain sealed tight. You have so many questions on why they confine you in with John. Surely, it can't simply be because you're making progress on his rehabilitation.
The food admittedely quells the hunger pains in your stomach, body satisfied with the packed meal you consumed. You're slow to move this morning, body groggy as you maneuver—John's gaze piercing into your form the whole time.
He seems content, lazy smile accentuating his face just enough. Blue eyes slitted and breaths even. You feel more like the one in the cage than him at this point.
John herds you outside once the food settles, taking you to a manmade pool of water. While you idle on the rocks, John shamelessly strips down to nothing and sinks into the cool water. You look away, and you can hear the chuff that escapes him.
"You nervous, darling?" He asks, turning towards you.
"Just giving you privacy," you mutter.
You look up, just in time to see the closed lipped grin that stretches his lips wide. You avoid diverting your eyes down, beneath the thick tendrils of fur that coat his belly and descend. You aren't blind, John is an attractive man, but you can't form attachments to your patients. Or former, depending on if this shifting into his human form is deemed an absolute success.
"C'mon. Join me," he encourages with a rasp. He encloses your wrist in his mighty paw and tugs you gently towards the water. "Gotta get you freshened up."
You don't stop him as he peels off the first layer of your clothing. Maybe part of you is excited about being undressed by a man again. To be viewed in all your exposed nature. It brings a thrill to you, your heart pounding within your chest.
John is gentlemanly at first. But as soon as your upper half is exposed, a hand kneads the plush flesh of your breast. He growls in the back of his throat and then pulls away. He seems pleased while you sit there for a moment and wonder what in the hell you got into.
And why isn't anyone letting you out?
With nothing left, you sink into the cool water with John. He is glued to your side, brushing up against you and rumbling in content. You admittedly don't hate it, having craved attention for a long time.
And now it's being offered to you, even if you are confused and cautious still.
John doesn't speak much, you learn. He slinks into the quiet of nature, but you still somehow know he's listening. Any little noise you make has his head pivoting to look at you. Keeping stock, taking notes.
It unnerves you.
Your muscles still relax, though. That sleepy haze still somewhat has a hold of you. The water doesn't help. You sink into the water, sighing softly as you float mindlessly. For hours, probably, based on how the fluorescent lights change.
It's nice not having to worry about responsibilities.
A warm hand plants itself on your belly, and you lower your legs back into the water. You look up to see John, his eyes slightly more blown out than you remember earlier. He starts pushing you towards the shore.
"C'mon, cub. Gotta get you into the den," his voice is husky and he doesn't even bother to grab your discarded clothes.
Your naked form is paraded across the enclosure, and you are struck by embarrassment over your lack of modesty right now. Regardless of how it technically isn't your fault. Your stomach flutters as you look around, hoping no one is at the cameras right now. There aren't a lot of cameras, just some in the main area.
John's bodyweight is over you as soon as he has your inside his psuedo cave. He pushes you down into the nest, intentions clear.
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