Ghost gets no bitches and he reminds me of whatever that TikTok audio is that’s like “how’d you get her?” And the other person is like “get her? No she grabbed me by the throat and told me I was hers”.
Word count: 800
Warnings: none (ghost being immediately whipped)
So hear me out you’re at the grocery store and while walking down the aisles you see this behemoth of a man. Big muscle sexy, surgical mask covering his face. You want. What to say? How should you approach? Ah yes you need help getting something from the top shelf. Stepping so you’re in his line of sight
“Could you come here?” You ask him and he just gives you a blank stare. Raising your eyebrows clearly waiting for a response he turns around looking for who you could be talking to and who is clearly not listening to you. When he sees no one else in the aisle he slowly points at himself, questioning you. “Yes you.” You smile trying to hold in a laugh. Quickly adding a “please” in the sweetest little voice and he is scurrying over to you.
“Could you please reach that box for me?” Ghost raises his arm up and points to a box when you nod confirming that’s the one you want he hands it to you. “That one too please” he obeys. You have him hand you two more boxes (not needing any of them). Then you try to push your luck a little. “Wait not this one” you hand him a box back and he returns it to the shelf. Before you know it you’ve had this man put all the boxes back just to hand them to you again. A smirk plastered on your face. Not once did the large man question you, not when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes.
“Ok done with this aisle. Come on.” You start walking and his feet are following you. He hasn’t said a word to you but is following you around the store like a puppy. Down the next aisle you pointed at something (well within your reach) and he handed it you.
“Are you always this obedient?” You watched his eyes go wide but he found himself nodding. He’d probably say yes to anything you ask when you’re looking at him like that, like you want to eat him whole. His answer brought a smile to your face and he swore his knees were gonna buckle. You held out your hand, “phone.” It was a statement not a question and he quickly (fumbling) pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. When you saw it was locked you looked up at him moving the phone ever so slightly towards him. You had meant for him to take the phone and unlock it but instead he mumbled out “0000” a small but dramatic gasp left your lips “oh so he does speak.” You typed in the 4 digits and the phone opened. You looked up at him when the basic passcode worked. “Simple and obedient. Just how I like ‘em” ghost swallowed hard. No one has ever treated him like this. Spoke to him like this. Not even Price. He should be offended? Insulted? Definitely not turned on. Right? (mark him down and scared AND horny). You handed his phone back to him, your number and name resting on his screen. He reached to take the phone from you, but you didn’t let go. Fingers touching you looked up at him “you better call me. I’ll be real sad if you dont.” He swore he was gonna pass out. Before you let go of his phone, hands still touching, heavy steps made their way into your aisle.
“Aye lieutenant there ye are. Been wandering round lookin fer ya.” Soap called down the aisle.
Ghost refused to acknowledge his friend calling for him, keeping eye contact with you. Your smile got bigger as you let go of the phone.
“Lieutenant huh? That mean you know how to give orders too?” He nodded again. “Then I’m definitely going to need you to call me. I’d like to see that.” Your eyes shamelessly raked down his figure. Fuck he needs to hold on to something.
Once you finally walked away, Soap approached quickly asking who you were and when ghosted shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know.” (But he’s gonna that’s for sure)
“She’s a fine looking lass I’m gonna go talk to her.” Ghost’s hand moved fast, grabbing the back of Soap’s neck guiding (pushing) him in the opposite direction of you. He was thanking god you saw him first and not Soap. If you had talked to Soap like that, ghost knew you’d have him walking on a leash (who’s he kidding if you had asked ghost would’ve barked)
Ghost giving medic!reader shit bc he refuses to get his wounds treated unless hes on his death bed.
The giant of a man Is about to walk out, grumbling about needing a shower. Does he care that he threatened to stab gaz if the sergeant didnt get a med check? No. Hes the world's biggest hypocrite.
Unfortunately ur the world's most dedicated medic bc the second ghost turns around you wrap ur hands around his bitch strap and yank so hard he nearly falls to his ass. "Listen hear young man, I dont give a fuck if you say youre fine. Youre not leaving this med bay until i verify that."
Ghost honest to god groans, and thanks heaven ur professional enough to only give him a raised brow. Gaz, who watched the whole thing from his bed, has no such qualms and snorts openly at ghosts reaction.
kissing at simon's riley tummy, out of pure tenderness, laying between his spread legs, meaty and muscled as his thighs tremble, tensing, your soft lips trailing along the fuzzed hairs that trail beneath his boxer briefs, where he's all swollen, leaking a large, wet spot against the fabric, twitching at your every little smooch, your hands playing with the dusted hairs at his thighs.
soft layers of pale skin, scarred and uneven beneath your every touch, every little sweep, his stomach padded with gained fat and yielding muscles, rippling lightly when you lick across the area, suckling a gentle bruise, something yours along the canvas of painful experiences on his body, something holding the love in it.
simon huffs, breathing heavily through his slacked mouth, eyelids heavy and framing the murky irises of his eyes with quivering, translucent eyelashes, peering at you when you tease too close to his cock, heavily swollen against his leg, as you pepper kisses against the cotton of his boxers, feeling the throb of the engorged girth, the bulging veins.
he let's you tease him gladly, cloak in these raking up and down touches and lingering kisses, sometimes so close, sometimes too far, yet still enjoyable as your warm breath sweeps across his skin, soothing and pulling throaty, needy sounds that make simon purse his lips together tightly, holding them, fighting the whimpers as his hips buckle, eyes watering.
sub simon idea (maybe, idk): him having such a hard time appreciating himself or even admitting that there is something about him that someone could appreciate. he just doesn’t feel like it cpuld ever be the case. so naturally he gets edged until he praises himself enough. just him gasping and whining about how pretty he is, how reliable, how strong until he finally, finally gets that orgasm his body has been burning for.
(and as a bonus he gets cooed at softly while he cums, the compliments are just making him shake harder)
ANGEL (Sub!Ghost x Dom!GN!Reader)
crow’s masterlist
authors note; i am alive, i am back. you can thank black ops 7 for getting me to write this. enjoy. listen to angel by massive attack for full effect. 1.6k words.
Simon has a love hate relationship with your mind and determination. He appreciates your hard working attitude, your ambitious nature, and your discipline; but fucking hell, he did not expect for you to be mad at him when he kept making negative remarks towards himself. Simon’s always doubted himself; sure, he talks himself up during banter, but there’s a lot of moments where Simon doesn’t believe he could be… enjoyed. Loved, maybe is the word.
He doesn’t expect you to take that as personal as you seemingly do.
“Fuh-fuck.” Simon gurgles out, fireworks going off behind his eyelids. You’re mean, you’re so fucking mean and he can’t handle it. His fingers curl into the sheets below, his other hand grasping your wrist. His legs feel like fucking jelly and his cock is so hard, it hurts. He calls out your name in a shaky tone as your hand slowly strokes his slicked cock, wet with your spit and his pre-cum. You meanly press your thumb to the underside of his dick right under his tip, pressing against the sensitive spot you know is there.
It earns you a choked out moan and his hips spasming upwards, electricity shooting through him from the base of his spine. Your eyes trail over his body; his pants and boxers are pulled down to just above his knees, his shirt and jacket pushed upwards over his pecs, the fabric gathering up near his neck and collarbones. His belt clinks with every movement, his balaclava pushed up over the hooked part of his nose.. As your hand runs down the wet skin, your thumb pressing against a prominent vein in the process, you absentmindedly think that maybe next time you should tie his wrists with his own belt.
“Say it.” You utter; the phrase, no, command is simple. Can Simon follow through and be obedient is the question. Can he? Simon breaths out harshly as your hand curls around the base of his dick, squeezing deliciously. He can hear the squelch of the fluids mixing. Fuck. He knows what you want from him—you want him to say something positive about himself. You want Simon to value himself the way you do.
Problem is, he can’t. Simon hasn’t been able to do so in a while. He has moments where he feels good, but he has more moments where he feels bad. Gross and undeserving. Unfortunately, that’s most of the time. It’s not like he particularly enjoys being mentally cruel to himself; quite the opposite. Simon just ends up going down a rabbit hole where his brain won’t shut up.
His lips press together and open a few times as your other hand caresses the inside of his big, hairy thigh, fingertips tracing an adductor muscle. Despite feeling hot all over, it sends a cold shiver up Simon’s spine, urging his back into an arch. Simon knows you aren’t continuing, not until he even murmurs self praise. You’re mean and cruel and he hates this. It’s oddly… embarrassing, to some degree. Being unable to say something nice about himself.
You pull Simon back to reality with another squeeze, earning a grunt and his leg kicking out a little. “Fuck.” He mutters, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows harshly. His belt clinks as his leg twitches. “Say it.” You repeat yourself, your tone sporting an edge to it.
Simon thinks about it; if he does this, you’ll let him cum. You’ve edged him twice now—you both know he can handle much more, but he isn’t sure how long you’re willing to draw this out without letting him cum. He isn’t interested in knowing. His dick hurts and his balls fucking ache like hell. Simon knows better than to play these games—but his mind.. It isn’t cooperating.
He doesn’t see the point in praising himself. What good will that—”You’re still thinking, hm? Thought good boys know how to shut up and listen.” You mutter, gently dragging your nails across the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to his scrotum. It drags a delicious spine tingle and shuddery gasp from the big man underneath you.
Simon swallows hard, his head turning to the side. Your hand leaves his thigh, reaching up and grabbing his jaw and turning his head back to you. His eyes meet yours for a moment, a breathy noise leaving him as your fingers skim across the stubble across his jaw that’s grown over the past day and a half. Your presence makes him feel.. Small. Embarrassed and weak. He hates it one second, loves it another. “Wait–” Simon groans as you give his cock a little stroke, leaning down and spitting on his length in order to keep it wet. You hand curls around his base again—God, it’s so fucking possessive. It makes Simon so warm inside.
“Let me see all of you. Maybe then, you’d understand.” You breathe out, your fingertips slipping under the balaclava, pausing. He knows that you’re waiting for his permission—his go ahead to expose him. Simon’s cock twitches in your palm as his mind connects the dots and he nods to you, his eyes locked onto your lips that twitch into a satisfied smile of approval, a smile that makes him warm. You peel off the balaclava, putting it aside before he feels your fingers running through his blonde hair.
Simon shudders; you’re so gentle. So good and so meaningful with it. You’ve always had a way with your actions, speaking words without actually talking. Every touch, he never has had to doubt. Your intentions have always been so clear with him—to love him, to care for him, to get Simon out of his prison of a mind, to just be on Earth with you, even if it’s just for a few minutes of pleasure.
That’s what is what convinces Simon. Not your words, but your smile. Your gaze, your touch. The silent “i love you”s that are imprinted in every finger pressed to his overheated skin. He has days where he wonders if you’re even human because surely there’s no earthly explanation for a blessing like you to want a curse like him.
Simon feels the familiar bite of emotion welling up in his chest, tight and biting into his heart like vines. Instead of choking it down, he knows you’ll handle his prickled heart with much more care than himself. He hands you the reins. “I-I’m.. Good.” Simon utters, his tone guttural and raw as his eyelids flutter; your hand starts to slowly jerk his cock as a reward, making him spill his dam. “I’m strong, I’m.. fuuh–fuck, I’m fuckin’ handsome, a–and–” He babbles, not knowing how to praise himself.
You swoop in like always. “Mhm, the hottest man I’ve met.” You coo softly, teasing his leaking tip with your thumb, letting the milky pre-cum smear into the vein on the underside of his dick. “The team wouldn’t be the same with you. Say it.”
Simon grunts out, his hips giving a little twitch. “Mhhhn, the.. The team needs me, I’m valuable, I’m needed, I’m the best fuckin’ sniper Price has–” Simon gasps out as your hand speeds up. You grin, tilting your head, your other hand coming to his mouth, wiping spit that dribbled past his lips and tears that spilled out of his lash line. “I’m, shhit, I’m.. sexy, God, I’m big, lemme cum, please–”
Simon’s already so close, it’s fucking mortifying. With the way you’re looking over his exposed body with hungry and affection eyes, your hand skimming down his stomach, tracing his muscles and your other hand jerking him in relatively slow, tight strokes, spitting to keep it sloppy because you know that’s how he likes it—Fuuuck, you aren’t even going fast and his balls are drawing up. The ball in his lower belly is tightening and you’ve barely done a fucking thing.
God, he’s so gone for you.
“You’re close, baby. You’re twitching.” You murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lip, training down his tear stained cheek, licking the tear that trickled down to his ear. “You’re fucking beautiful, Si. I don’t understand why you make me do this for you to realize. Maybe you just wanna feel me on you, hm? Is that it?”
Simon’s eyes roll as your hand speeds up around his dick, and your voice is in his fucking ear, invading his brain and taking ahold of his nervous system. You’ve merged with him and his reactions and you don’t even know. You don’t even know.
He’s babbling something, he doesn’t quite hear it. Judging by your smile, Simon’s probably mumbling some random compliment, any compliment towards himself. His hand around your wrist tightens, a whimper getting past his lips as his legs kick a little. “Go ahead, pretty. Good boy.”
Simon thinks he blacks out for a moment—all he feels is something exploding in his gut, his balls pulsing. His cock pumps out thick, hot ropes of creamy cum, shooting all over his abs, spilling over your knuckles–even reaching his neck and pooling in his left collarbone. “Jesus, Si. Pent up, hm? You’re so fuckin’ sexy, I can’t believe you let me do this.” You murmur in his ear, eyeing the way his cock is twitching and throbbing. You milk him, squeezing the base of his cock with every spurt, mimicking a clenching hole.
Simon gasps, mouth opening and closing. The warm pleasure leaks up his spine and seeps into his bone marrow, making him melt and go limp. He feels so heavy, so warm. His hand leaves your wrist, seeking out more of your skin by skimming up your arm, over your shoulder and to your cheek. He feels you press your cheek into his palm.
Simon’s panting as you lean closer, his hand cupping the nape of your neck as you press your forehead against his.
His safety net. His love, his life—his home, right here. And you want him.
Can we get a dilf (he’s like in his 60s)werewolf trans male reader x 141 boys, hybrid au 😼😼😼😼 - call me 🌾 anon
DILF!Werewolf!FTM!Reader x HYBRID!141 au!!
You were old. Older than them. A seasoned veteran. An older Werewolf that seen it all(your wolfyness made you still look hot even though you are in your 60s). They lived with you. While their injuries healed. Your large home easily fit the four large hybrids.
You smile sharply at the younger werewolf. “Get y’er fluffy ass down Soap.” You say as you laugh. His tail wags as he pounces. You both fell with a “oof” and landed on the nice tiled floor. Both of you scramble around for a moment until you grab him by the scruff and pick him up.
“Oi! Price!” You yell out with a laugh, as soap pouts in your arms. “Y’er puppy ain’t being real nice ta’ me.” You see the large dragon hybrid slowly walk out of his room. His hair a mess. Price smirks at you and the now blushing Soap.
“What did I tell you, yeah?” Price says with a laugh. Soap mutters under his breath. “Speak up Soap.” Price sighs.
“Not to bother the big bad while he’s working.” Soap grumbles out. You raise an eyebrow. ‘Big bad’ you mouth to Gaz, the harpy hybrid sitting in the corner. Perched on a stand you built. Gaz laughed from where he was sitting. High above everyone.
You sigh before tossing Soap onto the large plush couch. “Sit the fuck down.” There was something in his scent. A flash of heat before it was forcefully washed away.
(Should I continue this?! Also surprise I’m alive!! Both yall and my psychiatrist are surprised muahahaha. (Laugh laugh please bro) I’m getting better at time management and heh I can NAWT wait until I can beg my bf to draw fanart for me heh heh heh. Yeah I’m lucky my man is talented)
not like this. not with his back arched and his thighs trembling and his hand fisted in the sheets like it’s the only thing keeping him there.
“please,” he chokes out, voice wrecked, eyes shining with tears threatening to fall. “fuck—please, i can’t—”
you don’t let up. not when he twitches in your hand, not when his breath stutters, not even when he tries to twist away from your touch like it’s too much.
“you said you could handle it,” you murmur, lips against the shell of his ear. your tone’s light, teasing—but your grip on his hip is firm, possessive. “what happened to all that bravado, lieutenant?”
“gone,” he gasps. “fuckin—gone. you took it. you fuckin—”
he shudders violently when your fingers wrap tight around him again, dragging him right back to the edge. he bucks up, desperate, and you smirk.
“think this is your new favorite thing, isn’t it?”
he whines.
whines.
lips bitten red, eyes glossy behind the mask, chest rising and falling so fast you think he might fall apart.
“say it,” you coo, stroking him slow and deliberate, just to watch him twitch. “say it or i stop.”
“don’t stop—fuck—please, i love it, i love when you—” his voice cracks, low and broken. “you make me feel so fuckin’ good.”
you lean down, kiss his jaw, soft and smug.
“that’s my good boy.”
his whole body jerks when you say it, like the words hit deeper than anything else could. you can see the tension ripple through his stomach, his thighs, the way his fists tighten in the sheets.
“please,” he rasps again, voice barely there now. “please don’t stop again. i’ll do anything. please i can’t—”
“awe, baby,” you coo, faux sympathy lacing your voice as your hand continues to move torturously slow over his cock. “you’re shaking.”
“i can’t..can’t take it anymore,” he gasps, breathless, head slamming back against the pillows. “please—please love i’ll do anything ill do anything i swear—”
you smirk, dragging your hand back down his cock, relishing in how his hips twitch with every stroke.
“you’ll come when i say,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “not a second before.”
he whines, louder this time, throwing his head back again like he’s throwing a fit. you grin, watching the way his face twists up in pure agony.
“you’re gonna earn it, baby. every fucking drop.”
a/n: made for @3m3lia9 thank you for requesting love!! my 100 follower celebration is still open for those who would like to participate, pls don’t be shy i love writing for you guys 💖
I'm a switch, but since I'm physically disabled and therefore more physically passive in bed (I can't bounce on it crazy style 😔) people assume I'm inherently super submissive. It doesn't help that I'm very feminine and a big sweetheart so people think I'm "too kind" (???) to ever dom. (Let a girl be a sweet, loving dom for god's sake!) I think Simon probably gets the inverse of this. He's a big, strong guy who's super blunt, so obviously he's the dommiest dom ever, right?
This dynamic is so funny to me. You get together and fall into your assumed roles before realizing that, ah, we kinda got it twisted, didn't we?
Sub top Ghost my love, I love this man as a pretty princess who just lays back and lets you do most of the work. Wants you to ride him with a hand on his throat, cooing at him what a pretty delicate thing he is just so he can feel the tight burn in his chest that comes with it. He never gets to be weak except in these moments with you where he can put himself wholly in your hands and know you won't drop him. He'll let you leash him, muzzle him, anything that reminds him he follows you, not the other way around. He's a big mean bastard, and he can't trust himself not to hurt you, but he can trust you. So why bother being in charge of himself when he can give the reins over to you instead?
He'll fuck you into the mattress, keep you nice and full, whimpering and whining at how fast he's going, all while his leash is wrapped nice and tight around your fingers. Keep him close, keep him under control, keep his poor pathetic heart from beating out of his chest by keeping his hands gloved and his teeth pressed firmly into a ball gag. He never needed to be in control anyway, wouldn't have joined the army if he wanted to give orders.
