I Have Another Gaz Thought…

Okay... all the fucking aside...

I just want to play with and grope Simon's buff pecs reverently, okay? I want to toy with his nipples and make him squirm underneath me while he tries to act like it doesn't affect him that much, but...

Sir, I can see the flush on your stubbly cheeks? SIR, I can feel your thick cock getting harder and larger inside your underwear?

I might (I will) nip at his cute nipple, flick my wet tongue over it, moan around it when I feel it harden between my lips and then bite it gently to make him gasp and then grumble in annoyance, though he still doesn't push me off of him.

And while I suck and lick on one hard bud, I'll play with the other; pinch it between my fingertips, lick my thumb and flick it over it until that cute bud is hard, too.

Meanwhile, I'm getting wet as hell just playing with his massive man tits; feeling his skin twitch and thick muscles flex beneath my touch. I can hear the way he inhales sharply through his nose and then tries to exhale slowly to control himself.

I'm worshipping him again and he still can't wrap his head around the Why?, but that's okay, because I'll do it anyway.

Man's just trying to read a book in our bed and here I am, sneaking up on him (although he saw and heard me coming, ha!) and rucking up his sleep shirt, up to his collarbones to reveal his perfect chest; my eyes darkening as if I found a treasure while he merely peeks over the edge of his hardcover book with an arched and scarred eyebrow, just the tiniest bit curious.

"If ah yer wan' me ta make luv to ya, jus' say so, lovey," he rumbles eventually, closing the book with a loud thud and placing it back on his bedside table with a sigh.

But I shake my head, glancing up at him with fluttering lashes as I shake my head, tongue circling his nipple lewdly, nearly drooling on it.

"Later," I coo softly, not even bothering to hide my amusement and excitement, "Wanna see if I can make you cum like this."

He snorts then, brows furrowing slightly as he cups the side of my neck with one calloused hand, his touch gentle and affectionate, despite the fact that his hand is large enough to wrap around my throat effortlessly.

The thought makes me squirm on top of him and he knows, because his lips crack into an imperceptible smile.

"Go on, then," he says eventually, kissing his teeth in challenge, "Ya jus' 'ave ta try hard enough, lovey."

And oh my God.... I would.

This scenario also applicable for Soap, Gaz, Price, Keegan, and König. 😭

tw: self-shipping; emotional boner; premature ejaculation, mild degradation

Johnny gets hard when I listen to him.

As in, paying attention. Listening to his stories, his ramblings, his opinions, his problems. I never once tell him to shut up, he simply notices himself when he's been talking non-stop for more than an hour. I sigh, my eyes start drifting around the room. I'm like a dog making whale eyes and yawning, a cat flicking her tail, flattening her ears.

And then he gives me space until I invite him to continue; asking a question, for a followup, and he obliges happily.

We're just friends at this point, but he stopped having meaningless hookups a while ago. He won't admit it, but he couldn't get hard for the woman the last time he tried having meaningless sex. It shook him to his very core.

He even went to the dick doctor on base, but his dick is fine, which makes it even worse.

And then, one evening, as I'm cooking dinner for us, because he invited himself over again, his chatty voice fizzles out after talking non-stop, no period nor comma, and I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with him, show him that I'm still listening with a social cue.

But Johnny sits at the kitchen table, tattooed forearms resting on the top, spine rigid, breathing shallowly. He's staring at the wall as if seeing a ghost.

"You okay?" I ask, lowering the temperature on the stove to let the pasta sauce cook slowly.

"Mhm, 'course," he answers curtly, and he squirms on the chair, wood creaking under his weight.

I glance down, following the movement of his thick thighs in his jeans as he squeezes them together. My eyebrows draw together, crease now between them, an invisible question mark appearing above my head.

"The hell are you doing? Go pee if you have to. Dinner's not ready yet, anyway." I let out a laugh, because it sounds so stupid. He's a grown ass man. A spec ops soldier.

He lets out a half-snort/half-scoff at that.

"Dinnae 'ave ta take a piss," he retorts, all little too snappishly for my liking, and I almost feel like starting an argument just for shits and giggles.

"Then why did you stop talking? That's a fucking first." I taunt, dropping the wooden spoon on the counter before walking over to him, pushing at his shoulder with my fingertips.

He hisses and grits his teeth, looking like he's in pain. My attitude drops, and my expression softens. Perhaps he's having some sort of silent panic attack?

"Hey "

As I rest my palm on his back, rubbing the taut muscle mass in wide, soothing circles, he shudders and lets out a choked moan. A sound that has my whole being freeze, my hand stilling on his back.

"Keep going, keep going, keep go "

His head tips back, lips parted with a soft groan, and our eyes meet over his shoulder. His bright blue, unnecessarily pretty eyes look hazy, his pupils blown. As I peer down at his crotch, I notice the outline of his cock straining against his jeans. I always had a hunch that he's big.

No man, this cocky and capable, has a small dick.

"Are you a little excited there, Johnny?" I coo at him, palm rubbing over his back again as I lift my other hand to rest on his left shoulder, massaging lightly.

He has the audacity to nod and let out another throaty groan before swallowing audibly.

"Can you come without touching your cock?"

He nods again, his eyelids flutter, and cheeks begin to blush furiously. I've never seen that look on him before, but I enjoy it tremendously.

"Of course, you can, you fucking pervert."

Johnny huffs in what sounds in agitation, but his blush only deepens in colour and I can practically watch his cock twitch and drool in his pants.

I reach up to tug on his short Mohawk, enough to pull his head back further, and he lets out a high-pitched groan before squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Pretend ye didnae hear tha' ah," he pleads, hands balling into fists on the tabletop as I give his short hair another firm tug.

"Aw, I think I won't," I reply, leaning forward to murmur against his temple, lips pressing against his burning skin, "Actually, I think... I'll make sure that sound you made is burned into my brain, so I can use it for later, Johnny. For when I'm playing with my pretty wet pussy all by myself."

"Oh, fuck !" His thighs jerk, knees bumping and rattling the table as he lifts his hips, humping the air with a pathetic cry of pleasure.

I watch the dark stain on his blue jeans become bigger while slumps down in the chair, and I keep rubbing his shoulders while he catches his ragged breath.

Muzzled at last.

I give his back a few gentle pats, pretending I'm fine, even though my heart is racing and my mind along with it. I just made him cum in his pants. Hands-free.

"Wanna talk about it, champ?" I croon, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk back over to the stove, tending to dinner.

He lifts his hand to flip me off.

ghost x reader x soap smut | +18/mdni!

making out with soap on simon's dick... like literally on his dick.

fuckin' hell, the two of you have driven the man to a sweating, tense mass of muscle as you snog johnny with wet, swollen lips against simon's leaking tip. the head is a ranging red and shines with a mixture of spit and slick that johnny laps up with a heavy lick before enveloping it with another deep kiss.

simon's mind goes completely numb when you twirl your tongue, snaking it in a long drag to meet soap's. his head rolls back in a lull, only gaining enough consciousness to mumble out a mouthful of groans low curses.

the sounds rock from somewhere low in his chest to mix with wet sounds of you lapping together along his thickness.

"jus' like tha'. good–ah. ah, shit, yeah–good fuckin' pets gettin' my dick nice 'n wet. god, look at you two. can't get enough, huh?"

he grins a little at the desperate shake of the head you send him, pulling back for the tiniest second to suck in a quick breath. the man next to you steals the moment, using your break to sink onto simon, tongue dragging out against the underside as he works his way down.

"stop hogging, johnny," you whine, a soft pout on your face when soap flinches with a wet gag that has simon entire body jerking. ignoring you, johnny continues his warm sucks before a rough pat to his face finally forces him to retreat. he slips off simon with a loud pop to wink at you.

"sorry, hen." soap grins, a grunt leaving him with he smashes your face into his. simon watches with greedy eyes at the way your lips glide together easy, tongues dancing to share the lingering taste of simon's cock. his gaze only darkens when you and johnny part with one last peck. "tastes too good."

simon huffs a little laugh, hand snaking to rest at the back of your neck. he pulls you into a brief kiss, thumb rubbing gently at the skin of your cheek, johnny watching a enamored tilt of his head.

"s'alright, pretty," simon coos. "i'll spank him later for it."

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

would stone go to a bar IF the 141 went there too?

and if he did, how would he react to the (tattooed) bartender!reader flirting with him?

So Stone has gone to a bar with the 141, exactly once, and it did not end well. Like he got drunk and tried fighting a squirrel and Ghost got injured by said squirrel while trying to pull Stone off the squirrel. Price decided to never invite him out to a bar again, but for this scenario, let's pretend Price did decide to make an exception because they had survived what had considered a suicide mission.

Stone was sitting at the bar, waiting for the drinks while the rest of the 141 were at the booth waiting for him. He didn't like to drink at bars, partly because he did stupid shit while drunk and partly because he was slightly paranoid of someone drugging his drink. As it was, he didn't eat anything he didn't prepare. But he made an exception, since he could watch you make his drink.

He was so busy watching where the your hands went, that he didn't realize it looked like he was staring openly at you. A heavily tattooed bartender who was rather handsome, but that was not point.

"Normally, I'd charge people extra for staring so intently at me," you joked, your voice oddly soothing to Stone's ears. "But I'm used to the stares, you like the tattoos?"

It took everything in Stone to keep his cold brown eyes on your hands, because he absolutely refused to take his eyes off his drink. "I'm not looking because of the tattoos," he said coldly, albeit too eagerly to brush off the assumption that he was eyeing you.

You raised an eyebrow, which he couldn't really see, but you didn't falter in making his drink. "No need to get defensive there, mate. I don't mind if you were looking," you replied, sliding Stone's finished drink to join the other drinks that Stone had put on a tray to carry them all. "I like what I see."

"Right, well..." Stone's cold and stoic demeanor wavered just slightly, almost falling when he had gotten off the bar stool. He cleared his throat and picked up the tray. "I wasn't looking."

He left to get back to the 141, but despite his words about not looking, he insisted on coming to the bar each time the 141 wanted refills even when he had switched to water. You could tell he was getting flustered with each flirting comment you made and normally that would make you relent, but underneath it all, you could tell he was preening at the compliments.

He looked like a tough guy, with his scars and cold demeanor, but you could tell there was more to him. He melted too cutely at your attention to not have there be something more to him.

When the 141 was done drinking for the night, he was the one who closed out their tab. And you gave him a slip of paper with your phone number on it. That made him very flustered and he scurried away without saying anything, but he took the piece of paper with him.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

You're both already wrecked, sweat slicking your skin, your hands clawing at his back like you're trying to pull him deeper, even though he’s already buried to the hilt.

You’ve been at it for a while now—lazy, slow thrusts that feel more like worship than fucking, his mouth hot on your neck, murmuring filth and little nothings in that rough voice that always makes your stomach flip.

He’s so deep it’s making your head spin. Every drag of his cock feels like he’s carving himself into you, like he wants you to feel him long after he’s gone.

And maybe that’s why it slips out. Maybe that’s why you say it.

You don’t plan to. You just feel so full, so warm, so ruined, that it tumbles out between moans without warning.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Everything goes still.

Simon stops mid-thrust. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.

You blink, panting, your hands still on his shoulders, confused by the sudden tension in his body.

“…Simon?”

He pulls back.

Not just his hips—his whole body. Just enough to look at you. His face is blank, eyes wide and dark and unreadable.

You feel cold all of a sudden.

“I—what?” he says. But he heard you. You know he did, because he’s already pulling away.

You try to keep your voice steady. “I said I love you.”

He’s quiet for too long...too fucking long.

Then he exhales, low and shaky, and steps back like you just slapped him.

“Don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

You stare at him, still half-naked, still aching, still open. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

You feel it start to break—something inside your chest, something you’d been holding together for weeks with sex and silence.

He grabs his shirt off the floor without looking at you. “This was never supposed to be that.”

“And what is it supposed to be, then?” Your voice is rising now. “Just convenient? Just something to do when we’re lonely and bored and pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just pulls his shirt over his head and avoids your eyes like a fucking coward.

“So that’s it?” you breathe. “I tell you I love you and you just… leave?”

Simon finally looks at you.

His mouth opens like he’s going to say something—maybe explain, maybe apologize—but then he just swallows, jaw clenched, and turns away.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says.

And then he walks out the door.

You don’t call after him, you don’t chase. You just sit there, still aching from where he was, still wet, still shaking, with the taste of I love you still on your tongue like it’s poison.

PART 2

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@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @xiisblogs

soap, somewhere in the base: "CAPTAIN GARRICK IN THE HOUSE!!!"

john making simon watch you get the pounding of your life because the two of you got into a nasty little argument, resulting in simon taking his anger out on johnny's ass.

he didn't even stop when you walked into your shared bedroom to see johnny getting his back blown out by your man. he only ordered you to sit and watch as johnny's moans and whines and the sounds of skin slapping filled the room, cum and drool staining your sheets.

simon had the audacity to groan when he saw the tears welling up in your eyes, bottom lip quivering. he always did get off on making you cry.

now he sits with a hard, leaking cock, hands restrained behind the back of the chair as he's forced to watch you get fucked by his captain. despite the way he snarls and grits his teeth, he still twitches and drools in his pants when your cunt gushes around john's cock for the nth time, the desperation to join becoming unbearable. it doesn't help that you're making the prettiest noises, writhing as john folds you into full nelson, your body on full display. simon's seething, so pissed off because he can't touch himself, and he can't even lap at your sloppy pussy or suck on your pretty clit.

"dirty mutts like you get nothin'," john barks when simon pathetically demands to be allowed to touch you, his hips effortlessly working to bring you over the edge again. "you'll never fuckin' learn if i don't teach you how to play nice with your toys; what kind of captain would i be, eh?"

you're babbling incoherent nonsense, not a thought in your head as john's gravelly voice coos sweet things into your ear, calling you his perfect girl while he kisses away your tears. you feel like you're floating right up into the ether, another orgasm ripping through you when he rubs tight, firm circles over your sensitive clit, drool running down your chin at the immense pleasure tingling all over your body.

you aren't sure if you actually heard it before you passed out in john's arms at the end of it all, but you swear he grunted, "i fuckin' own you, so i own her. my pretty pussy, my pretty girl."

(meanwhile, kyle's sorting johnny out in another room, edging him nice and long for being such a slut. if he wanted a good fuck, kyle was right there, and he's feeling offended.

"is it cause i'm not taken?" kyle huffs, cruelly twisting his fist around the head of johnny's cock and grinning meanly at the broken sob he gets in return.)

first of all i love womens hockey, strong ladies slamming up on the glass, amazing.

i went to a pwhl game and a man with his like teenage daughter were next to me and THAT MFER LOOKED EXACTLY LIKE JOHN PRICE hat and blue eyes and beard and everything it was nuts. anyways john price is a hockey girl dad of a scary 13 year old who kept staring at me the whole game.

just needed people to knoww

(fuck that mans gorgeous irl)

also i love your writing. Thank u for sharing ur brain w the internet.

That makes me think like. Imagine being John’s neighbor. You haven’t spoken more than pleasantries to him, introduced yourself to him and his daughter, made small talk at block parties.

And one cold day after school, his daughter is sitting on the front steps shivering, because she forgot her house key. You don’t have a spare, and John won’t be home for hours— so you tell her to stay inside your place until then. You call John and leave a message to let him know.

She’s a little wary of you, which is good. It’s not like you’re a total stranger, but you’re also not necessarily trustworthy yet. She just parks herself on the couch and watches whatever you’d had on tv, a little awkward as she sips the cup of tea you’d made her so she could warm up.

She ends up getting kinda attached. You joke with her that you watch the show that’s on because of the hot guys in it, and she smiles. She’s at that age, but of course she doesn’t really want to talk about it with John. You remember being 13, and she likes talking to you. John comes by once he’s home, thanks you profusely and apologizes for having to take up so much of your day. You tell him it was no trouble at all, and that she’s welcome any time.

She ends up taking you up on your offer. Usually after school, when her dad is still at work. You just leave the door open. She asks you questions about boys, about makeup— things she’s a little curious about but her mother isn’t around to answer. You get invited to all of her hockey games, with John insisting you sit next to him (when he can make it, that is).

You do holiday baking with her. She invites you to her birthday dinner. You’re welcomed over to John’s for every Christmas and other holiday they can manage to throw together a little gathering for. You’re so focused on her that you completely miss how John stares at you every single time you’re with his daughter.

Such a natural with her— and he’s had such a hard time connecting with her now that she’s becoming a teen. They’ve always had hockey, but it’s hard for him to accept that she’s not a baby anymore (even thought she’ll always be his baby). She storms over to your place every time they fight, and he’s eternally grateful she has somewhere to go for comfort when he doesn’t understand her.

She’s over at yours so much that he thinks it might be easier if you just moved in. That it would be a big age gap, but his daughter might like to have a little sibling. That if anything ever happened to him he’d want you to have every right to look after her. If that’s what you wanted, anyways.

And he loves his girl more than anything in the world, but it hasn’t been easy. Between raising her and his work, he doesn’t hardly have any time for dating. Whenever he’s tried— his daughter had found a problem with whoever he’d brought home, and that had signaled the end. It was hard enough to find anyone interested in dating a single parent.

So when you’d moved in next door, he couldn’t help himself. You’re pretty, single. He can see you through his window almost any time he wants. You don’t close your curtains nearly as much as you should, either. He’s just a man, y’know?

So, yeah, he’s made himself cum thinking of you more times than he can count. And it only gets worse once he has those fleeting thoughts about you being a mother for his girl. Maybe a few more kids if he can manage to get a ring on your finger. Insane thought to have when he’s never even asked you out on a date.

Honorably discharged partially disabled Simon, who swears he is perfectly fine and capable of doing everything himself. But it doesn’t really matter what he thinks says because Price sees differently. He sees the way Simon’s hands shake and how he’s started fidgeting when he’s never done that in the past, he can see Simon’s right side, the side that was crushed under rubble during an attack, he sees it shake and almost falter every time Simon puts even a little bit to much weight on it, but what worry’s Price the most is when Simon zones out and stops paying attention to his surroundings or whatever he’s doing. Not to mention now Simon has to go back and live in civilization, when all he’s known is military life since he was still a teen.

So although Simon claims he’s fine, Price gets him live-in-help, you. You’ve been with him the past week and although he rarely talks you’ve learned a few things. The blinds always need to be fully open unless he’s sleeping, he needs to be able to see what’s happening but it’ll keep him up when he’s trying to sleep, so they close at night. He gets very tense when he can’t see your hands, it hurts you a little to know he doesn’t trust you but you understand. He can't cook at all, unless you prepare food for him he’ll only eat a prepackaged dinner nothing else, of course that isn't healthy so you've started fixing him both breakfast and lunch which he accepts with a grunt but he doesn’t eat till you’ve started. He never takes off his mask around you unless he's eating and even still only up to his nose. Lastly you've noticed something always sparked in his eyes when you called him Simon, you haven't been able to figure out what it is so instead of risking offending him or something, you've stuck to calling him Ghost.

Price chose you for two reasons, you were quite, something he thought Simon would like, he was very wrong. It’s probably the oddest thing about him, he doesn’t like when you're super quiet you've learned it cause he doesn’t know where you are or what you’re planning the other reason is Price hired you is because you were a military nurse for quite a bit so you would always be there for Simon. This was something Simon actually did like it meant he didn’t have to leave his flat just to see a doctor, what he didn’t think about though was the cut and bruise on his face that he would have to remove his balaclava for.

“Okay Ghost” you paused not sure how he would react to having to take his mask off “I-i need you to remove your mask for me please” almost immediately he grunted out a why “because you have a cut and bruise on your face and I need to make sure it’s healing properly” Simon stilled completely for a few seconds before he slowly pulled the balaclava completely off. You took a second looking over his entire face before you brought your hand up inspecting the area “your bruise is completely gone” you whispered slightly surprised it had only been a week, you went to write it down but the moment your hand left his face he spoke up “it’s still ere, jus can’t see it” carefully your brought you hand back to his face to carefully push on his check “does that hurt” “bit” was all he grunted out, you hummed to yourself as you removed your hand and started writing, but had you been looking at him you would have seen the almost pout gracing his face.

Once you finally looked back up, placing your hand on his face “okay let’s finish this quickly” you say looking over his scar “I know I’m not that pretty but you ain’t gotta rush” he said in the quietest voice. You looked up into his eyes quickly only to find them looking back at you with what you could only describe as curiosity mixed with need “Gh-Simon that’s not what I meant, your very beautiful I just thought you wouldn't want me touching or looking at your face any more since you always hide it behind that mask” he never replied to you, just kept staring with that look in his eyes. Finally you peeled your eyes away, finished writing whatever you needed to in your book then you got up and walked away “I’m gonna fix us some lunch, okay Simon?” you called from in the kitchen already, and that’s when Simon managed to place the feeling he had been having every time he saw you. He liked you, he had a crush, a crush! “Simon?” You called again “yeah okay” he called back, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up, not when he thinks he might have found a new purpose in life.

pt 2 here

Some biker Ghost for nat and pirate ghoap for Tree! Thanks so much 🏍️☠️

(+ period ghoap for me...)