kayleigh. she/her. 26. student, writer, yapper. midwestern lover girl. queer. scorpio. noah kahan songs on repeat. autumn vibes always. sailor song by gigi perez. smells of incense and good intentions.
dni if : you love america/trump/racist, ignorant, harmful and repulsive politics; if you’re racist, xenophobic, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, etc; if you’re a bigoted asshole; if you’re a minor (i do post/reblog nsfw content, so ur innocent eyes do not need to be on my blog. also im nearly 30 so you shouldn’t want to interact with me anyways. ps: if u are a minor on the internet pls be careful and stay safe!!)
fic recommendations: ghosties fic recs
my works: ghosties writing (pls don’t enter my work into ai, that would be real mean and uncool of u)
Inspired by this lovely bit @silverlullabies gifted us.
Omega!reader who accepted a long time ago that their scent is disgusting because it reminds people of blood and gunpowder.
It might have been acceptable for an alpha but not for an omega. How would you ever be able to soothe your pups with this kind of violent scent? Nothing sweet or calming about you. You had to wear blockers from a young age because your scent was disturbing for others. When you entered the military you quickly learned that you could cause flashbacks with your scent and it had been used against prisoners more than once until you couldn't take it anymore. It left you broken in ways you didn't even fully understand, all you knew was that alphas either found you disgusting, disturbing or they were panicking, because all their instincts screamed 'wounded omega' once they got so much as a whiff of you.
You adapted. Scent blockers and suppressants, special mandatory leave once a year to go through a heat, so you could avoid long term affects on your health. Although you hoped secretly that your body would finally give up the craving for a mate and pups. You would never have that and you found it ridiculous to keep pretending otherwise.
So you grow cold. They call you ice princess. You don't object. You learn to use your scent like a weapon, a tool. Best decoy on the field to lure the enemy to the injured omega, only to find a deadly surprise. Easy to slip into shelters and hospitals. You are very specialised and the professional praise you get has to be enough to feed your twisted omega side.
When you join a mission with the 141 you don't expect it to be any different. You tell them they don't need to know your scent, but they insist, so they know what to prepare for and not get confused. Fair enough.
And of course you are not surprised by the looks of pity and sadness Gaz and Soap give you when they realise the reason why you use the thick patches and never participate in friendly scenting
What you are absolutely unprepared for is the way Ghost takes a deep breath, then another and then growls when Price calls him back. He doesn't move. Instead he grabs you, holds you close and presses his nose to your scent glands like an addict.
And you have no idea what to do because you can feel his length and a knot building, pressed against your hip. Hands that hold you but in a way that feels protective. And your brain screaming alpha alpha alpha at you.
for the anon that wants to know how the 141 eat pussy. mdni.
Gaz enjoys a slow, intimate 69 laying sideways. He can watch you suck his dick, touch more of you, finger as he licks.
Ghost likes it on his knees with your legs over his shoulders, arms supporting your ass and bracing you against the wall. He loves that you can’t wiggle away.
Soap is a face sitter. He wants you to crush him, to squeeze his head between your thighs. The man wants to die eating pussy.
Price is as traditional as they come. He’ll grab your ankle and yank you to the edge of the bed, go down on his knees, and have himself a feast.
CoD Headcanons / AUs / Quick Writes Masterlist // main masterlist
I love that moment when you step away from writing a difficult paper or fic and you’re doing something else and then BAM an amazing idea for it hits you and you gotta scramble to open your notes or get a piece of paper and write it down UGH IM SO POWERFUL I LOVE THIS
Five things John ‘Soap’ MacTavish remembered as his life flashed before his eyes;
one; coming home to the smell of his maw’s cookin’ knowing he’s in for a treat at teatime. homemade lentil or tattie soup, empire-biscuits, stovies, slow cooked sugo, caramel cake and if she was in an extra good mood, there’d be a plate of freshly hardened tablet that would melt the moment it touched his tongue, sugary, sweet and full of love. never did he go hungry.
two; his first time at celtic park with his da. the warmth of a new green & white scarf wrapped tight around his neck to keep the chill out from being in the stands, the crowds of fans who shook the walls & floors with their chants and songs, being lifted on his dads shoulders like he could reach the ceiling of the stadium so he could see the pitch, scrannin’ a bag of chippy chips drenched in salt, vinegar and brown sauce whilst sipping on irnbru to soothe the roughness of his throat from cheering on his team as they won.
three; the carnival at glasgow green. the stalls of cotton candy, the red dummy sweet that he’d hang around his neck, sticky and wet with his drool. the smell of fried onions, beef burgers and hot dogs mingling with puffs of fag smoke. his nauseous tummy after coming off the waltzers and the way his legs would wobble after stumbling off the sticky wall, the rush of adrenaline carrying him to go on it again and again.
four; meeting simon riley. an extra few inches taller and a good few years older than him. english. a sarcastic cunt when he opens his mouth. always hiding beneath a mask & skeleton gloves. blonde long lashes and deep brown eyes. strong as an ox. smells like tobacco & oil grease. memories inked up his left arm that shows his histories. chooses to call himself ghost .
five; being in love. waking up to soft snores. calloused fingers drifting over scarred skin. bodies pressed warmly together. gentle grips on the shoulder or knee to comfort. strong hands gripping each others waists or around the neck, being pulled into deep or messy kisses that leave them both grinning against each others lips. the rattle of dog tags. nursing each others wounds in their small bathroom under a bulb that needed replacing. sharing and exploring each others tastes in food & drink. late night movie binges and early morning jogs. the taste of smoke and spearmint lingering for hours after a goodbye kiss on days they don’t work together. and when he hears the mancunian roughness call to him through their shared flat, it’s home.
I thought I was bad in my really early 20s but the horny just gets worse with each year so I am in deep fear of what I’m going to be like when I hit 30s
You’re sprawled across your bed, the glow of your phone the only light in the room. It’s late, and you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks—typing out another shamelessly suggestive message to Simon. You’d gotten bold during his deployment, safe behind the distance, sending him wicked little photos, sly comments, voice notes that made him groan over the phone but never act.
"Miss me yet, soldier? Maybe I’ll send you something to help you remember what you’re missing."
You giggle at your own audacity, flipping the camera around for one more teasing snap. Just as you hit send, you hear it—a floorboard creaking in your apartment. Your laugh dies in your throat.
“Who the hell—” you start, only to freeze when a familiar shadow fills your doorway.
Simon Riley. In the flesh.
He’s leaning on the doorframe, mask pulled up to his nose, eyes burning with something that makes your stomach drop and twist at the same time. He’s home. Early. And judging by the way he’s looking at you—and the phone still in your hand—he’s already seen exactly what you were sending.
“Thought you were clever, did you?” His voice is low, dangerous, rougher than it ever sounded over a call. “Teasin’ me while I was halfway ‘round the world.”
You swallow hard, clutching your phone like it’s a shield. “Simon—I didn’t know you were—”
He pushes off the frame, crossing the room in long strides, and suddenly your phone is plucked from your hand. He glances at the glowing screen, at the message thread full of your cheeky texts and shameless pictures, and huffs out a laugh that has no humor in it.
“You’ve had your fun.” His hand settles at your ankle, dragging you toward him with deliberate slowness until you’re lying flat, heart hammering in your chest. His eyes flick from your face to the curve of your body, then back again. “Now it’s my turn.”
The weight of him settles beside you on the mattress, the heat of his presence impossible to ignore. He leans down close enough that his breath fans over your ear.
“You’ve been beggin’ for this without even sayin’ it. All those photos. All those words. You wanted me wound up, didn’t you?”
Your lips part, but no sound comes out, and Simon’s smirk tells you he knows exactly how flustered you are.
“God save you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with promise as his fingers slide under the hem of your shorts, “because I won’t.”
ovulating and thinking about ghost who is most always silent, until youre underneath him of course…
“pretty bird, my pretty bird” huffed gruffly against your throat as his thrusts get harder
“just like that, love” groaned out as your hips instinctively buck up to meet your thrusts
“so perfect, and all mine, right lovie?” almost begging for your reassurance as he nears the edge, losing his rhythm slightly as the pleasure gets to be too much
you always know when he’s about to finish by the deep moan and the way he bites at your collarbone to stop himself from babbling out praises that don’t even make sense as he fills you up
I got tomodachi life a week ago and put tf141 in it and tell me how Gaz and Price are already married🥹😭
it’s so cute, earlier Gaz had a guitar and was serenading Price
Nik is also on my island (he’s who I was going to try to pair up with John I’m basically making my Barbie dolls kiss idc)but he just stares at the sky 98% of the time and tells me how he’s hungry 😞
something something ghost coming to you after a rough mission
(fluff with a side of angst)
cw: gn!reader, reader is a member of 141, can be read as platonic or romantic, non-sexual showering together, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort), i think that covers it ?, word count: 740
It’s infuriatingly late when your lieutenant knocks on your apartment door– having given him your address for emergencies only.
“Really? I’m on leave–” Your words falter as soon as you look over at him.
His usual balaclava is traded for a black medical mask. There’s dirt and dried blood coating his skin and uniform as his eyes stare through you.
The solo mission must have gone to shit, you think to yourself.
Stepping aside, you open your door wide, biting your lip as he hesitantly stumbles inside. “Ghost,” you whisper, just for him to cut you off.
“Not Ghost righ’ now, I can’t–” he chokes on the words for a second, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Need t’ be Simon, please.”
You nod, slowly taking a step closer to him. “Okay, Simon, you broken?”
Shaking his head, he reaches out to wrap his arms around you– face faltering when you stop him. “Sorry,” he whispers, taking a step back.
“That’s not what I meant, Simon. Just… why don’t you get cleaned off first?”
He’s standing stiffly next to you in the bathroom as you finish explaining the shower controls to him. “Also, I dug some clothes out from when Cap had to crash here; they should fit well enough,” you say softly.
His fingers wrap around your wrist the second you move towards the door. “Stay?” His voice cracks as he speaks.
You’ve never once heard him sound so vulnerable– not even during the worst of your missions. “Do you…” You stumble over the words, unsure of what exactly he needs at this moment. “Want me just to sit nearby or do you need help?”
“Help,” he whispers, hands shaking as he peels off his gloves. You lock your fingers together, thumbs rubbing circles on his bare skin.
He lifts his hands as you remove his shirt, his pants following soon after. Your own clothes fall to the floor, the two of you in just your underwear, squeezing into the small shower.
A comfortable silence fills the air as you turn on the water. The scene would feel awkward with anyone else, but with you and Simon? You've dug bullets out of each other– it doesn’t get more intimate than that.
“The temp okay?” you check, a relieved sigh falling from your lips when he nods.
The water turns brown against the tiles as it slides down his body. Your eyes drag over every inch of his skin as the washcloth wipes away the dirt and grime. No visible wounds or injuries– that’s good.
You can’t help but giggle when he has to bend down slightly so you can shampoo his short hair. His head tilts back as he lets it rinse, his eyes never leaving yours. “Smells good,” he says, his voice slowly steadying.
“Not as good as the stuff Kyle uses. Have you ever been in his bathroom?”
He lets out a huff that sounds suspiciously amused. “Y’mean tha’ spenny shit?”
Your laughter echoes throughout the room as you shut off the water. “Yeah, you don’t even want to know how much that skincare costs him,” you grin, passing him a fluffy towel to dry off with.
He falls quiet again, eyes on the floor as he tugs the shirt over his head– you were right: the pajamas aren’t a perfect fit, but they work well enough. “Gettin’ tired,” he croaks out.
“Me too, Simon.”
He wasn’t talking about sleep– neither of you was– but you find yourselves curled up together in your bed.
Your hand rubs down his shoulders and back, a soothing and grounding motion for him. His head’s resting on your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart.
“It was proper fucked– the mission,” he whispers in the dark of your bedroom.
You let your fingers settle on the nape of his neck, nails just lightly scratching at the back of his head. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”
He blinks slowly, eyes tinged with awe, as he glances up at you– like he didn’t know it was an option. “Thanks,” he mumbles, eyes shut as he feels your chest rise and fall with every breath.
You don’t reply– you don’t need to– letting your own eyes slowly flutter as you drift away.
For the first time in a long time, he falls asleep feeling more like Simon than Ghost– more human than living weapon.
You tried it exactly once, fake moaning for simon, head tossed back and all breathy. A real convincing act in your opinion.
"....what the fock was tha'?" Ghost freezes above you mid-thrust. Forearm braced above your head, breath hot against the curve of your neck.
Ghost is the space between a pulled trigger and the target it hits, the breathe of every soldier on a battle field. You should know nothing gets past him. You whine, low and needy and intentional, squeeze around his cock and push at his chest "c'mon si...why did you stop?"
Ghost narrows his eyes, fully sits up until he's resting on his heels, arms crossed and thighs keeping your legs spread open. "Stop that. Fuckin– stop it."
You twist in the sheets like a trapped animal, try to entice him to keep moving. Using all those tricks because you know he likes it from the way his cock twitches—
"I. Said. Stop." Two large hands pin you down, and when you finally meet ghost's eyes he looks furious "thought I wouldn't notice that fake shit? Fuckin' mocking me?"
Your stomach twists when he thrusts in, slow and deep, studying your every expression. "You think i can't make you scream? Can't please you?"
"You do! Si– you do please me–" you try to plead, clenching tight at the next thrust. "It's not because of that! You feel good, I promise–"
"Then what? Huh?" Another, deeper thrust that has your mind nearly shutting off from pleasure. His whole body rolls into it, more consciously putting on a performance for you now.
"It's...I...I don't make noise, si. I'm not loud." You whisper, face pinched. "I didn't want you to think I'm not enjoying it..."
For a moment, ghost just stares at you.
He lowers himself down, muscles moving under skin like a predator stalking prey. Full of potential to ruin you. His arms cage you in until all you can focus on is ghost.
"I want to hear you. Got it? Don't care what it sounds like so long as 's you." He grumbles, really settles his weight back into you.
Tentatively, you nod.
"Good. See? Wasn't so hard, now was it?" He pulls nearly all the way out, tucks back into your neck, and fucks you like he's trying to prove a point.
Quiet gasps, small whimpers and nothing more falls from your lips. Your orgasm is silent only in voice when you rake your hands along his back hard enough to break skin. When you have to bite into his shoulder after the second.
Later, ghost will wear the wounds like a badge of honor. He does need fake moans when he's got all the proof of your pleasure burned into his skin.
I got tomodachi life a week ago and put tf141 in it and tell me how Gaz and Price are already married🥹😭
it’s so cute, earlier Gaz had a guitar and was serenading Price
Nik is also on my island (he’s who I was going to try to pair up with John I’m basically making my Barbie dolls kiss idc)but he just stares at the sky 98% of the time and tells me how he’s hungry 😞
