No title available
wallacepolsom
★
roma★
Not today Justin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
occasionally subtle
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
JBB: An Artblog!
izzy's playlists!
No title available
Peter Solarz
sheepfilms
Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
tumblr dot com
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
noise dept.
seen from Spain
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Thailand
seen from Brazil
seen from Jamaica
seen from T1
seen from Netherlands
seen from Argentina
@screamintonothing
Hmm I think because their lives are so inundated with safewords already (sitreps, callouts) it'd feel redundant to have a specific one between them (also I think they are DEEPLY freaks who WOULD go without)
I do think they would check in on each other in their own ways, doting and concerned...🥺
+
I can't imagine Soap ever ANNOYS Ghost, but I bet he can get under Ghost's skin a bit as they get more comfortable - a feat achievable by a scant few in his life, surely...
simon wasn't comfortable with touch. every time your hand brushed his arms he'd flinch. you didn't notice at first until your hand searched for his in a crowded place. he froze for a second and you realized this wasn't normal for him.
you weren't simons first relationship but sometimes it felt like you were. every touch or every compliment you gave him caused him to freeze. his cheeks would grow hot and he'd look away.
you loved it about him, but sometimes you wished he'd be okay with recieving love.
so you decided to test him.
you sat next to him on the couch, knee brushing his. he let your skin touch for a second before pulling his leg away. you didn't make any move to get closer, letting him get comfortable again.
after a few minutes you shifted, leaning closer to him so your elbow touched his. he pulled away quickly, moving his arm away from you.
again you shifted, leaning your shoulder on his. he didn't have any room to move anymore. instead, he stood up and walked out the living room, leaving you by yourself.
you sighed softly and followed him into the kitchen.
"baby." you said with a soft tone, not wanting him to get even more uncomfortable.
Stray dog 💀🧼
As always, early access, WIPs and other goodies are on my Patreon!
Soap with dogs!
Gaz with dogs!
Price with dogs!
Ghost with demons! TF 141 with dogs🐶 It's been a while painting full rendered pieces, enjoyed a lot! Inspired from awesome @yourfaithfulauthor's request.
Need to start doing/posting art again by the time MW4 comes out so I can do more Ghoap sketches I will never end up painting 🙂↕️
𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 & 𝐖𝐢𝐟𝐞! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ೃ 𐙚⋆. ˚࿔ masterlist
If it wasn’t for the chatter of his fellow task force members, Simon might’ve been able to get some much needed shut eye. The low, rhythmic thrum of the C-130’s engines vibrated through the metal hull, a familiar white noise that usually lulled soldiers to sleep.
To his left, Gaz and Soap were hunched over an upturned equipment crate, aggressively playing a hand of cards by the dim, red glow of the tactical lights. Across from them, Captain Price had his boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, seemingly dead to the world, though everyone knew he could wake up and pull a trigger in a fraction of a second.
Simon sat slightly apart from the rest, his massive frame swallowed by his tactical gear, the skull-patterned balaclava firmly in place. To anyone else, the Lieutenant looked like a statue. But if someone looked closely, closer than most dared to, they would notice he wasn’t staring at his artillery.
Between his heavily gloved thumbs, Simon was holding a small, slightly crumpled photograph.
It was a picture of you. You were laughing, your hair a bit messy, looking up at the camera with a warmth that could melt even the harshest of winters. It was taken just days before he deployed, right after you both had said "I do" in a tiny, rushed courthouse ceremony. There had been no time for a reception, let alone a honeymoon. The ink on the marriage license was barely dry before Task Force 141 was called back out. But there was a promise waiting on the other side of this AO: a two-week leave, a cabin in the mountains, and uninterrupted time with his wife.
Simon traced the edge of the photo with a gloved thumb, his posture softening in a way he only ever allowed when he thought no one was watching.
"Aw, look at that. The big bad Ghost has a soft spot," a Scottish voice needled.
Simon didn't even look up, his eyes remaining locked on your face. "Shut it, Johnny."
Soap leaned over the crate, a massive grin plastering his face. "I'm serious, LT! You're staring at that photo like it’s a map to El Dorado. Let me see her again, eh? Remind me what kind of saint takes a monster like you off the market."
Before Simon could bark out another threat, Price spoke up, not even bothering to lift his hat from his eyes. "Leave him be, MacTavish. Though, I still don't know how a bloke like Simon managed to pull her. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. Truly, a saint, you’re right about that."
"Bloody opposites, those two," Gaz chimed in, tossing a card down. "She bakes biscuits for the base sometimes. Ghost is out here breaking collarbones."
"I’m right here," Simon said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in his chest.
"We know, LT. We just like seeing you turn pink under that mask," Soap chuckled, finally backing off when Simon’s dark eyes snapped up, flashing a warning that promised physical violence if another word was spoken.
"The only price to pay for marriage is freedom, good man, tis only our pride as men that gives us wings." Gaz said, dramatically.
"What?" Soap replied, tilting his head up from his cards.
"Nevermind, it’s your move by the way."
With a quiet, annoyed huff, Simon turned his attention back to the photograph. The teasing from the lads didn't actually bother him, if anything, hearing them acknowledge you, acknowledging that you were his, brought pride to his chest.
You were his opposite. You were his light, his warmth, and everything good left in a world that he had spent years seeing only in shades of blood and ash.
Slowly, carefully, Simon slid the photograph into the secure, waterproof inner pocket of his tactical vest. He patted it twice, ensuring it was sitting directly over his heart.
It has become a ritual to him now. Every deployment. A silent, desperate prayer to whatever higher power was listening, and to you, promising that he would survive. He would let the Ghost handle the bloodshed, but Simon Riley was going to make it back to that cabin. He was going to take his wife on her honeymoon if it was the last thing he’d ever do.
The red jump light suddenly flashed to life, bathing the cabin in a harsh crimson. Price stood up, pulling his hat tight. "Alright, safe zone's behind us. Check your gear, five minutes to drop!"
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The easy camaraderie vanished, replaced by the focus of the military's finest. Soap and Gaz threw their cards aside, checking their magazines, while Price checked his comms.
Simon stood up, checking his rifle. He adjusted his mask. He was ready to do what he did best. Because the sooner he finished the monster's work, the sooner he could come home to you.
Day in the life - afternoon 🌇
simon picking up drunk reader from the bar
The bass was drilling straight into your skull. At some point it stopped being music and started being punishment.
You were slumped sideways in the booth, cheek pressed against the table, eyes barely open. Your drink sits abandoned somewhere, condensation pooling like evidence of your bad decisions.
“Okay, that’s it,” your friend mutters. “We’re calling him.”
Your brain latches onto one word. shit.
“Him.”
You lifted your head an inch and immediate regret washed through you. The world tilted like it’s trying to throw you off.
“Don’t—” you mumble, reaching out. You miss completely, hand just… floating there. "traitor...", you mumble as you mock glare at your friend , who was busy dialing the number.
you don't realize as time passed, but you could sense it, a presence that cuts through the noise, through the haze in your head.
A hand on your shoulder. Firm and warm.
“You with me?”
You blink slowly, forcing your eyes to focus- and there he was. Simon stood over you like the physical embodiment of consequences.
You smile as the sight of him , “…Hi, handsome.” you manage to mumble.
“Jesus.”, simon hissed through his teeth.
You push yourself up a little, which was already too ambitious. The room spined hard and you wobbled, but he’s already there. One arm slid around your waist, catching you before gravity won.
“Careful,” he mutters.
You leaned into him without hesitation, head tipping toward his shoulder.
“Mmm. You came,” you murmur, voice soft and absolutely not as subtle as you think it is.
“Yeah,” he says flatly. “Against my better judgment.”
You grin faintly. “Liar.”
His grip tightens just slightly as you sway again.
“Can you stand?”
You consider it and decide honesty is optional.
“For you? Always.”, you grin at him, earning mock irritation.
Your knees nearly give out and you end up clinging to him, arms wrapping loosely around his torso. Then his hand comes up, firm at your back, holding you in place.
“Right,” he mutters. “We’re not doing that again.”
You tilted your head up to look at him, eyes half-lidded.
“You smell nice.”
“That’s not the issue.”, he responds flatly , although you could see the faint red creeping behind his neck.
“It is to me.”, you breath out under his ear.
He exhales sharply, already shifting your arm over his shoulders, securing you properly. You, meanwhile, are having an entirely different experience.
“You always this strong?” you mumble, fingers bunching slightly into his shirt, breath fanning over his neck.
“Focus on walking.”
“I am focusing. On you.”
“Walk.”
You could tell he was nearing the end of his restraint. “Easy”, he says, lower now, hands gripping at your waist tighter.
You laughed softly, which immediately turned into a wince. Your head dropped briefly against his shoulder as he guided you through the crowd.
“Missed you,” you murmur, words slurring just slightly.
god you were gonna be the death of him
You grin lazily, pleased with yourself for reasons that will not hold up tomorrow. The outside air hits you and you inhale like it’s salvation. you lean harder into him, practically hanging off his arm now.
“Tired,” you mumble.
“I know love.”
His hand shifts at your waist, thumb pressing lightly, keeping you steady as you wobble again.
You let him guide you down into the seat, your movements slow and uncoordinated. You nearly miss the seat entirely, but his hand at your waist corrects it instantly.
“Careful,” he mutters.
you sigh as you feel the relief of the cool leather against your skin and the smell of his faint cologne.
God.
Was it the alcohol or pent up frustration- you couldn't tell, but something was definitely feeling wet down there.
Simon slid into the car after you," right, you feeling better ?"
"i'm feeling more than better you know...", you say eyeing him up and down, fingers grazing his bicep.
"god, love..", He huffs something that might be a suppressed laugh. Might. Hard to tell.
You reach up slightly, fingers brushing clumsily against his jaw.
“We should do something about that", you say ,gesturing to his now evident arousal.
His hand catches your wrist gently but firmly before you can fully commit to whatever that was.
“Not right now.”
“Please”, you breath out ,trying to get closer to him in the cramped space.
There’s a beat.
"god, you will be the death of me"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
.๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑๑♡๑.
adeline's note: i hope u like this one guys TT , its been in my drafts for SO LONGG. lowkey wanna write fic with jjk characters but i feel like people won't really be interested in those considering my main expertise is with simon lol. SO PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YALL WANT THAT. -xoxo
𝗦𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗥𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. 𝗡𝗦𝗙𝗪 𝟭𝟴+
Simon had learned over the years to keep his voice down during sex—finding it embarrassing that a hulking man like him would whine like a bitch during sex.
Foolishly, he didn't change his habit when he got with you. Believing the quiet grunts he would allow to be enough for you. Like the other women he'd been with.
God, it was pissing you off.
He didn't account for the fact you'd lost most of your hearing. You never wore your hearing aids during sex because the itch of them wouldn't allow you to concentrate.
Simon was a fantastic lover—gave you exactly what you needed, had you coming until you couldn't fucking think anymore. But he just wouldn't make any sound. You know you should've been used to guys not making sounds by now at your big grown age, though you got your hopes up with Simon.
Simon was holding back his moans as he fucked into your perfect pussy, thrusting at that perfect angle that made you keen—Only allowing quiet masculine sounds to rumble from his chest.
But you finally had enough of seeing his mouth part, while being unable to hear anything.
"Simon," you pant, grabbing his jaw roughly "fucking moan, goddammit. I can't fucking hear you."
Simon stilled, looking down at you with flushed cheeks. "Y'sure? Didn't think women liked I' when a man makes noise."
"Need to hear you." you whispered, grinding your hips upwards impatiently.
Simon finally broke down that wall in his mind, leaning down to your good ear and letting out a loud groan, thrusting frantically. His big meaty paws clawing at you.
"Fuck!" Simon babbled "Feels so good, so tight. So so so tight."
You gasp at how loud he was being—getting what you always wanted from a lover.
"y'don't get it. Wanna be inside you all the time. Just wanna fill you over and over and over." He groaned, his hips becoming erratic and needy as he brings a hand to your clit—desperate to get you off before he came himself.
Your nails clawed down his muscular back, leaving red streaks in their wake. But the unrestrained whimper Simon let out in response?
You were coming with a squeal, locking your legs around his hips as he fucked his come inside you.
"Don't" you pant "You ever hold those sounds back again."
Simon huffed, wrapping his arms around you. "'s embarrassing, love."
"I just came harder than I ever have in my life, you can handle some embarrassment."
You stash the fact Simons softening cock twitched inside you at the thought of being embarrassed for later. Fucking pathetic thing, your boyfriend.
⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧
Buy my cat a treat? (•˕ •マ.ᐟ
TF141 x Hybrid!You | "Roadside Lessons" | Part 28
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | ________________________________________________ The duffel sat open on his desk. It wasn't much. A change of clothes, field gear, a med kit he didn't think he'd need but packed anyway, a second sleeping bag, weather gear, and camping supplies.
"Right." He muttered under his breath. "Simple." A few days out in the wilderness, quiet, no interference. Just him and...
"Ah." Price stood beside the driver's side door, keys in hand, staring at the passenger seat. Nikolai was already sitting there comfortable and settled. Like he'd planned to be.
One arm slung casually over the door, sunglasses on and not even pretending this wasn't deliberate.
"Why..." Price said slowly. "Are you in my truck?"
Nikolai didn't move. Didn’t even turn his head. "You are going camping, yes? I am coming."
Price: "No, you're not."
Nikolai finally looked at him then, calm as anything. "But I was invited."
Price went still. "By who."
Nik glanced back at the backseat.
"I did."
Price shut his eyes, slow inhale, slow exhale. He turned his head.
In the back seat, Y/n had claimed the right side near the window, half curled but angled toward the sunlight pouring in. Their eyes were closed, ears relaxed, tail loosely draped along the seat.
'Innocent. Absolutely, completely, not innocent.' Price looked back at Nik.
Nik gave him a small, satisfied smile.
Price muttered under his breath. "...It's supposed to be me and Y/n."
"I'll improve the experience." Nik replied.
"You'll sabotage the experience." Price scowled.
Nikolai considered that. "Little bit."
Price stared at him another second before opening the driver's side door with visible resignation. "If you play music without asking, I'm leaving you at a gas station."
Nik waved one hand vaguely. "You say this now. But by hour three, you will beg for entertainment."
Price started the engine. "I'd rather drive off a cliff."
From the backseat, without opening their eyes, Y/n spoke quietly. "Can we stop if we see cows."
Price glanced in the mirror. "Why?"
Y/n: "I like them."
Nikolai nodded solemnly. "Reasonable."
Price looked between both of them and immediately understood he'd lost control of this trip before it had even started.
Deployment leave felt strange after months of routine. No radios crackling in the background. No briefing schedules. Just open road. The truck rolled steadily along the highway while late afternoon sunlight poured gold across the dashboard.
Y/n had eventually shifted fully into the corner of the backseat, face tipped toward the warmth coming through the window. One ear flicked every now and then whenever they heard something interesting.
Price glanced in the rearview mirror once. 'Still asleep. Or pretending to be. Hard to tell sometimes.'
Nikolai, meanwhile, had made himself entirely too comfortable.
"You know..." He said conversationally. "This is first family road trip."
Price's grip tightened slightly on the wheel. "Say that again and I'm turning this truck around."
Nik smiled faintly. "Ah. So defensive. Very paternal."
Price bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to stop the response before it left his mouth.
From the backseat: "What does paternal mean?"
Price closed his eyes briefly before looking back at the road.
Nikolai looked delighted. "It means." Nik said helpfully. "Your papa is-"
"Don't." Price warned immediately.
Nik ignored him. "-Behaving like father animal who does not realize he is father's animal."
Y/n: "You're a father to an animal?"
Both Nik and Price turn in their seats, giving Y/n a glance. _ The first stop happened because Y/n spotted a roadside fruit stand. "Stop."
Price barely reacted. "No."
Y/n: "Please?"
Price: "..."
Nikolai leaned casually against the window. "Captain. They said magic word."
Price sighed through his nose and pulled into the gravel lot.
The stand itself was tiny. Fresh peaches, strawberries, homemade jams, flowers in metal buckets, and hand painted signs that looked like they'd been there since the seventies.
Y/n stood very still beside one table, staring.
Price noticed immediately. "See something you want?"
Y/n: "They're just… here."
Price frowned faintly. "Aye?"
Y/n gestured vaguely. "People just leave fruit outside."
Nik smiled slightly behind them. "This is called trust."
Y/n looked deeply suspicious of that concept.
An older woman running the stand noticed them hovering and smiled warmly. "You three passing through?"
Price answered automatically. "Something like that."
Y/n stared at the peaches like they'd never seen so many at once.
The woman noticed. "Go ahead, sweetheart." She held one out. "Try it."
Y/n looked immediately at Price first. Permission.
Price nodded once. "Go on."
Y/n accepted the peach carefully with both hands like they'd been handed something important. Then bit into it. Their ears shot up instantly.
Price looked back in time to see genuine betrayal on Y/n's face.
Y/n: "It's sweet."
"That is usually how fruit works." Price said dryly.
Y/n looked horrified. "Why didn't anyone tell me."
The woman behind the stand looked openly charmed now. "Honey, where have you been all your life?"
Price answered before Y/n could. "Complicated places."
The woman accepted that answer easier than she should have.
Y/n quietly picked up another peach.
Price paid for six. __ The next stop was a small roadside diner two towns later.
Y/n learned that civilian waitresses would call you "sweetheart" regardless of rank or combat ability. And when their food arrived, Y/n stared openly at Price's plate. Then at Nikolai's. Then back at their own. It was not subtle. It was a full investigative comparison.
Price cut into his food. "What?"
Y/n pointed without hesitation. "Why do you have more?"
Price didn't even look up. "I don't."
Nikolai leaned forward slightly, inspecting the plates. "Ah." He nodded once. "This is American portion sizing."
Y/n frowned. "Is it wrong?"
Price exhaled through his nose. "It's unnecessary."
Nikolai, entirely unhelpful, added, "It's the emotional compensation for hunger that does not exist."
Price shot him a look. "Don't start."
Y/n stared at their plate again, then very carefully at Price's. "So yours is… normal."
Price hesitated. Just a fraction. "…Yes."
Nikolai immediately hummed. "He's lying."
Price didn't even deny it. He just cut into his food harder than strictly necessary.
Nikolai leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself as he watched Price aggressively attempt to disassemble his own meal. Then, casually, he tapped his fork against the edge of his plate. "You know, Captain-"
Price didn't look up. "Eat your food." __ By the time the sun started lowering, the truck was quieter.
Y/n had settled back into the rear seat again, this time awake and watching the scenery pass by with slower, calmer interest than before.
Occasionally they asked questions.
Why do people put giant fake animals outside restaurants.
Why was there a store only for mattresses.
Why did civilians willingly drive tiny cars.
Nikolai answered every question with complete confidence whether the answer was correct or not.
Price had to intervene three separate times. "No, Y/n, pigeons are not government employees."
"They watch." Nikolai defended.
Price glance at Nik before looking back at the road. "Stop teaching them conspiracy theories."
Nikolai spread his hands. "I teach possibilities."
Price: "They are pigeons."
Nik: "They are suspicious pigeons."
From the backseat, Y/n looked thoughtful.
Price immediately pointed a finger toward the rearview mirror. "No."
Y/n blinked. "I didn't say anything."
Price: "You were about to."
Y/n: "I was."
Price sighed.
Then a sharp inhale. Not a normal one. A full body gasp.
Y/n: "COWS!"
Price nearly swerved.
Y/n was halfway over the seat now, face pressed to the window. "COWS!!!"
Nikolai twisted around immediately. There were, in fact, cows. A whole field of them. Black cows, brown cows. One particularly large cow standing near a fence looking profoundly unconcerned with the existence of mankind.
Y/n: "Pull over."
Price didn't even hesitate as truck rolled onto the shoulder beside the fence line. Before Price had even fully parked, Y/n scampered out of the truck and launched themselves onto the gravel.
Y/n: "COWS!"
Price opened his door. "Y/N!"
They were already halfway to the fence.
Y/n: "COWS!"
Price: "Y/N!"
The cows, meanwhile, continued existing with complete indifference.
Price stepped out of the truck. "Don't touch the fence!"
Y/n either didn't hear him or chose not to. Neither possibility improved his mood. Their tail was practically wagging behind them as they hurried toward the pasture.
Price started after them. "Y/n!"
Y/n reached the fence.
Price immediately pointed. "Do. Not. Touch-"
Too late. Y/n grabbed the wire.
SNAP.
Y/n: "YEEEEE!"
Y/n achieved a height previously thought impossible. They launched backwards with a startled screech, ears puffed, tail exploding into twice its normal size. For one glorious second they appeared to forget how gravity worked. Then they landed on their backside in the grass. The cows looked mildly interested.
Price stopped walking.
Nikolai chuckled from inside the truck, slapping the outside of the door. "Oh no." He kept laughing. "Oh, that was beautiful."
Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "Nikolai."
Nik: "I warned nobody because this outcome was funnier."
Y/n: "I didn't know it was electric."
Price pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's why I said don't touch it."
Y/n: "I thought you meant normal don't touch it."
Price: "What other kind of don't touch it is there???"
Y/n with a blank face, glancing at the fence and back at Price. "The lying kind."
Nikolai completely lost it again. "Cub is so funny." Nikolai wiped a tear from the corner of one eye.
Y/n cautiously approached the fence again.
Price immediately pointed. "No."
Y/n: "I wasn't going to touch it."
Price: "You were thinking about it."
Y/n: "I was."
Price sighed.
Behind the fence, one of the cows slowly lifted its head and stared at Y/n. Y/n stared back. "Can I pet one?"
Price: "No."
Y/n: "Why?"
"Because it's not yours."
Y/n frowned.
"You know." Nik said thoughtfully. "This is actually good lesson."
Price groaned immediately. "Here we go."
Nikolai ignored him. "You see cow."
Y/n nodded.
Nik: "You want cow."
Another nod.
Nik: "You touch fence."
Y/n's ears lowered.
Nik: "You receive consequences."
Price folded his arms.
Nikolai nodded sagely. "This is how wisdom is formed."
Y/n considered that. "...The wisdom is don't touch electric fence."
Nik: "Exactly."
Y/n pointed at the cow. "And if I want the cow?"
Nikolai smiled. "Then first you learn where the gate is."
That actually made Y/n pause. A slow, thoughtful expression crossed their face.
Price watched the realization happen. The fence wasn't there to stop them forever. It was there to make them use the proper path. 'Huh.' For once, Nikolai had accidentally taught something useful.
Y/n looked back at the cow. The cow looked back. Then, very solemnly, Y/n lifted a hand and waved. The cow immediately turned around and walked away.
Nikolai barked out another laugh.
Price actually felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "Rejected." ____ Elsewhere, several hundred miles away, the trip had gone very differently.
The moment the front door opened Soap has become Johnny- barely made it two steps inside before being dragged into a hug by his mother.
Mum: "You're too thin."
Johnny: "Mum, I've been here thirty seconds."
Mum: "Too thin."
Behind Johnny, Simon quietly stepped inside carrying half the luggage. Soap's mother spotted him immediately. "Oh, Simon!"
Ghost had faced armed insurgents, enemy snipers, and explosives with less concern than the expression aimed at him. "Hello, ma'am."
Mum: "You look thin too."
Ghost accepted his fate. _________________________________________ Part 29?
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I may of sent this before but my wifi was messed up so I don't know if it went through, but!!! Can you draw 141 doing communal shower antics and maybe if you'll be soooo kind to bless me with some gaz stuff just doing anything on duty love him in your style, keep creating😘
doing anything but showering
“there’s no picture.” “never.”
Some gaz doodles!!
a very huge hello to my gaz fans 🧢
remember when i said i was trying to quit smoking…
…yeahhh
anyway ghost has a cigarette settled between his chapped lips all while staring up at you. you’re riding him, although your movements are sloppy.
one massive hand sits atop your thigh, relaxed but every so often he gives it an encouraging squeeze cause “you’re doing such a good job for me, darlin’”
you’re sensitive. barely able to sit up straight as your pubic bone grinds against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. he’s buried so deep you don’t know where you end and he begins.
he has a hand resting behind his head, his biceps and the fat of his arms bulging each time he tenses. your inner walls drag along a vein that makes his eyes almost roll back into his skull.
“tha’s it…tha’s my girl. use me. i know that pussy’s missed me. let’s make sure she gets her fill.”
Hii! i read your sa survivor ghost/reader and i really love how you write them (ive read all your posts cause i love your interpretation of ghost in general ><)
can i ask for any headcanons you have of him?? not only romantically but other areas of his life (friends, how he handles his life/hobbies/free time maybe?? whatever you can think of related to him) i would love to read it!!!
sorry for the anon im shy,, have a wonderful day ❤️
A/N: thank you so muchhhh, I appreciate your comment! I'd love to share some of my headcanons with ya! There's not much for now, but maybe I'll do pt.2 later♡
Summary: headcanons for Ghost
Pairing: boyfriend!Ghost x gn!reader
Warnings/tags: minors DNI, gn!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, implied trauma.
Simon needs routine. A mission schedule, a training hour, a meal plan. Of course, his line of work required him to be prepared for rapid change, and he had no problem adapting. But having a plan in at least one aspect of his life helps him feel anchored and in control.
When you workout together, Simon always steals one of your earbuds. It's become a tradition. He won't admit it, but he just likes sharing something in common with you, knowing which songs make you nod along to the beat and which ones you scroll through on your playlist.
Simon would sometimes get cold. After a grueling mission or another nightmare, when his body can't cope with the pent-up anxiety and fear, he gets cold because his body is unable to control the temperature regulation. He's getting shivery, even if the heat is radiating from him, and that's when he is urgently searching for you. His system is screaming error, senses so fucked that he starts to shake. A blanket is not enough, Simon would hold you all night, gripping your waist and thighs, nuzzling into your neck and demand that you hug him tighter.
Simon needs the confirmation that you're feeling good during sex. It's crucial for him, almost paranoid, to know that you're okay, otherwise he won't enjoy it himself. There are constant check-ins (from both sides), safe word is picked just in case. "Give me a colour, love, what's up?" Simon listens to the sounds you make, observes your body language, your breathing. And only when he feels the deep emotional connection, the pleasure you both share will he reach his own release.
Ghost doesn't like to share his personal items. He doesn't offer his food, not out of greed, of course. This habit stems from childhood, when sharing meant giving away and going hungry. Ghost doesn't give his clothes to others - he finds it too intimate, and especially he can't imagine anyone else eating from his dishes (poor Johnny, who took Ghost's mug by mistake that one time...). Although, with your arrival in his life, there have been exceptions. His T-shirt, he says, looked better on you, and he's shared a bottle with you without a second thought, because, well, if you share kisses, it's kind of silly to disdain the neck of the bottle.
Simon's not a fan of coffee. He can drink it, one sugar, no milk, but it's not really his thing, because he prefers tea. However, this brew, as he makes it, is so potent that coffee will taste bland afterward. "I ain't paying to drink coloured water, there must be a taste to it," he says. You're not even sure where he gets this explosive mixture of dried leaves, but it definitely has more caffeine than a double Americano.
Simon hides his injuries. Obviously, he takes his health seriously, as his work depends on it, so Ghost goes to the medical bay to get his wounds treated regularly like any other soldier. The problem is, he didn't consider bruises, minor cuts, abrasions, and scratches worthy of attention. So you're used to treating his small wounds yourself after a traditional little scolding on the importance of being gentle to your own body... Simon could have done it himself, but he liked the feeling of your hands on his skin way too much.
omg i was just struck with a thought
simon riley who's embarrassingly turned on by you threatening a soldier with your gun.
imagine you're training some new guys who believe they can eat the world and everyone fears them. especially you. being a woman, it was not a new thing to deal with.
now you were no soldier like the 6ft brooding man that was standing beside you, but you could sure hold your ground. that was something simon (and the rest of the task force, really) already admired. but this?
simon knew from the start that these pricks were going to be annoying assholes. not that he paid much mind, a scare would be enough to get them to pull their shit together.
he didn't think it would be you, though.
the loudest of them, all ego and flexed muscles had been running his mouth enough for it to be fucking annoying but not quite to justify a punishment. johnny wanted to punch him, and simon had already held him back. but now he crossed a line.
the idiot messed with you.
you were already having a bad day. a shit amount of unnecessary paperwork and these dudes trying to hit on you left and right as if you weren't their superior. as if simon wasn't there.
you were in the middle of informally explaining how things work in the team and trying to get them to listen as you would with some toddlers, and this tanned chad just started to blatantly flirt with you, supposedly to win you over because of a bet. your patience was wearing thin, imposing limit after limit and then you heard
"easy sweetheart, no need to be a bitch about it."
the guy started to approach you and simon was already planning to kill the guy, ready to put himself in the way but then you snapped.
"on your knees, soldier."
simon felt all of his blood leave his limbs. you, sweet thing, had your fucking gun pointed straight between the dude's eyes. a surprised look on them as yours practically buried him alive.
the guy slowly sank to his knees, surely humiliated, and simon couldn't do anything but wish it was him instead, the one kneeling at your feet. he sure has dreamt of it a couple times.
he thanked whoever's up there you couldn't see how hard he was getting for you. he should be ashamed, really, but could anyone blame him? you, probably the hottest woman he's ever laid eyes on, sweet as only you could be, had just flipped this pathetic excuse of a man in a matter of one second. oh simon was whipped. he swore he could worship you for the rest of his life if you let him.
but first, he had two problems to get rid of.
Tw: mention of blood but nothing explicit, military inaccuracies. English it's not my first language.
He shouldn't have let you go on that mission. Not alone.
Simon was walking down the hall when your team arrived back at base after a mission. It wasn't supposed to be a difficult one, but when he saw nurses, doctors, and people rushing toward the entrance, he felt something wrong—a sensation in his chest that told him to run.
Simon couldn't remember the last time he had run as fast as he did then. When he stepped outside the base, the first thing he saw was blood. A lot of it. He scanned the area, searching for you amidst the chaos, but he didn't see you. Instead, he caught a glimpse of a body on a stretcher. When he looked closer, he recognized the bracelet you never took off.
Simon felt his heart rise into his throat, and the world seemed to paralyze. The next thing he knew, paramedics were surrounding you, covered in your blood, screaming and shouting orders.
Simon was standing outside your room with Price beside him.
"She's going to be okay," Price said, placing a hand on Simon's shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.
The doctor emerged from your room, and Simon immediately stood up.
"How is she?" Price asked.
"She's in a coma. I'm sorry."
Simon stopped breathing for a second. A coma. You were in a coma.
"She will be fine; she's not in danger anymore, but we don't know how long it’s going to take for her to wake up."
Simon had never believed in God or any higher power, but since that day, he never stopped praying and begging for you to come back.
Two weeks. Two weeks had passed, and you still hadn't woken up. Simon never left your side; he barely even let anyone else approach you, save for the doctors and nurses.
Tonight, Simon was sitting next to your hospital bed with his hand resting on yours when he felt your fingers twitch. He straightened his back and observed you closely. Then, your eyes fluttered open.
Your vision was blurry, and your body ached—so fucking much. When your vision finally adjusted, you saw him: Simon. He was looking at you with such a worried expression. You tried to move, but all you could feel was a stabbing pain radiating throughout your body.
"Hey, hey, easy, dove. Don't try to move," Simon said softly.
"Simon," was all you could manage, your throat feeling raw. You needed water.
"I know, I know, baby. Don't try to talk; you've been gone for two weeks."
Two weeks? Holy crap.
It took you a while to be able to speak again. "How is my team?"
"All of them are fine, just some minor injuries," he said, gently holding your hand.
"Oh, great."
Your recovery was slow, but you were improving every day, and Simon was always there. He never left your side, always making sure you were comfortable. The strange part was that you two weren't even in a relationship yet. Simon had been planning to ask you before you left for deployment; he had been terrified that you would die without ever knowing his feelings for you, or how much you had made him a better man.
I'm so frustrated because I cannot express myself they way I want because English it's not my first language AAAHG I hope you like it. I didn't lol but had this idea while playing volleyball and i needed to (try) write it down.
