Redraw

bf who asks “you want a treat??” while unbuttoning his pants

my brain rumbles with johnny mactavish a/b/o thoughts

medically discharged alpha johnny with an overgrown beard who relocates to a farm in the highlands in frustration, angry that he’s physically inept now, bullet to the head ruining some of his motor functions, fucks with his memory.

and you, the omega who moved into the abandoned neighboring farmhouse a few weeks ago, stopping by to introduce yourself— asking him if he has any tips on fixing the barbed fencing around your property.

and yeah, his hands shake in uncoordinated movements these days, and he has a hard time judging distance and picking out the right words— but there’s a deep ache in him that he can’t forget.

and he knows of it as clear as he breathes, damaged brain all but likened to a discussion about the weather.

he remembers the sweetness of an omega on his tongue, and you’re right in front of him.

Give me Simon who, because of his family’s history of addiction, and his fear of losing control, he hardly ever drinks.

Give me a Ghost that, despite his size, is a bit of a lightweight.

Give me a Ghost who can't have a couple of "casual" beers cause he still gets slightly buzzed

Give me a Ghost that never went drinking with teammates (before 141) cause he was afraid of what they think. A big man like him getting drunk after only a few drinks.

Give me a Simon Riley who feels so safe with the 141, and with Johnny, that he agrees to go to the pub and have some drinks.

Give me a Ghost that's a goofy drunk. Doing little things to mess with the others. Snort laughing at his own dumb jokes, laughing so hard he nearly chokes.

Give me a clingy drunk Ghost. Absolutely demands to know where the other is going if someone gets up from the table. Is leaning onto Soap so much he's practically crushing him. Has to hold someone's hand when Soap goes to the bar to get more drinks. Complains the whole time Johnny is gone.

Give me a Ghost who is stumbling between Gaz and Soap, knocking into them and holding their hands as they walk. Give me Soap and Gaz laughing and Ghost laughing with them, not realizing they're laughing at him.

Give me Ghost who is finally healing his inner young adult, doing fun stuff while he can, drinking and being merry. We all know those years were stolen from him.

Mommy kink Simon Riley who loves when you grab his face with one hand squishing his cheeks together while you’re riding him, making his lips pout.

“God you’re so fuckin’ cute baby.” You say, hand squishing his cute little face.

Simon whines in response as you roll your hips on him making his eyes go unfocused and half lidded.

“You like when mommy makes you go dumb hm? Tired of bein’ so big and strong all the time aren’t you baby.”

Simon nods his head with a moan. And grips your hips harder.

“Uh uh. Be a good boy and tell me what you want.” You tell him and stop your hips from moving.

“Want- want you to fuck me. Ride me. Please. Please mama.”

“Yeah there you go. See that wasn’t hard.” You praise him, and he throws his head back while you start to ride him again, his cheeks flushing as he cums in you :((

Sorry, had to get that out of my system

telling simon you have a breeding kink so now he's looking up where he can get his vasectomy reversed by tomorrow

nothing done by halves here

Ghost, to Gaz, drunk out of his mind: Garrick thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Y/N Gaz: You're in love with Y/N? Ghost: Oops, sorry, my bad Ghost, leaning over to Y/N: Garrick thinks he knows everything but he has no idea I'm in love with Y/N Y/N: You're in love with me? Ghost: Ghost: Where the fuck is Johnny when I'm talking to him?

it's feminism and gay rights to have an m/m/f pairing because women deserve to have two boyfriends and guys should have gay sex with each other

love me some big mean simon but love me some big INSECURE overthinker simon even more. simon who's so big and awkward and out of place, certain he's not deserving of such a sweet sweet girl like you and somehow still gets to dig his grubby fingers into you, bruising you like the soft skin of overripe peaches, sinking his teeth into you. you're so smitten with him meanwhile he's convinced that he's the scum of the eart, undeserving to be the dirt beneath your feet. dreamy sigh.

your weighted blanket (simon riley x reader)

could be part of this two lieutenants series but it’s standalone

—

“you know what i want?”

“wha’?”

“a weighted blanket.”

simon turned away from his bedroom desk to stare at you, his dark eyes squinting incredulously.

“what?! i think it’d help me sleep.”

“wha’ the fuck is a weighted blanket.”

you huffed a sigh. “it’s literally a weighted blanket simon. having weight pressing down on you helps you sleep, it’s scientifically proven.” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you laid back on his bed.

turning off his desk lamp, he made his way to his bed. he joined you on top of the covers, giving you plenty of space. keeping it platonic. not that he wanted to, but that was another thing.

“can’t jus’ have some sop lay on you?” the words hurt coming out, but it was the only thing he could say. desperately looking for a sign that you were talking to someone as you were so tightlipped about your escapades until after they ended.

“i’m on a man break. they all suck.” no one measured up to the unending care simon gave you, even if he was just a friend. just a friend who lets you come into his room every night, talking yourself to sleep. just a friend who never forgets your favorite body wash or candle scent on supply runs.

“they don’t know how to treat a woman like you.” his words echoed in the dark, ideas of what they meant bouncing around in your brain. “a woman like me?” silence. “don’t be mean, si.”

fuck he was so stupid. needed to watch his tone better, like gaz was always telling him. “dove, jus’ meant a smart independent woman like yourself. yer lookin’ for a partner and they’re look for a mother or a fuck. or both.” your jaw dropped. “oh. thanks.” his words thickened the air. no one had ever talked about you like that, like you were something to be treasured, not kept. like he respected you.

“if you really need a weighted blanket i-“ “yeah?” you sounded too eager, but you didn’t care. you turned towards him, catching his eye in the gleam of the base lights outside his window. “could be yers. if you want. strictly platonic.” he scratched his head, looking away. embarrassed. “yeah, platonic. course, yeah. that’s fine. good, i mean.” you needed to get your act together and stop sounding like a teenager, but he just offered to be your blanket. surely that was more than platonic.

“now?”

“sure.”

you sat on his bed like a dead fish, arms at your sides. you were not about to initiate what surely would be the most awkward non-cuddle session in your life. simon pressed one large paw into the mattress, hauling his huge body up on one arm. he moved down farther on the bed, his head parallel to your ribs. then, with the uttermost care, he shifted on top of you, hovering. waiting. “you can lay on me si, it’s okay.” he released his hands slowly, the full force of his body laying on you. 250+ pounds of pure machine, a body honed from years in the military. a soldier, a sniper, a lieutenant, now at your mercy, body covering yours completely.

“not too weighted for you?” you giggled. an actual giggle from his fellow lieutenant. “no, si. not too weighted.” your hand instinctively went to his hair before you could stop yourself. “is this comfortable? you’re on my ribs.” he grunted. it actually hurt like a bitch, your bone pressing into him through layers of fat, but he was laying on you and therefore could not complain. “you can move up, i won’t mind.” well, if you were letting him. he wanted to make the most of this blanket situation, this type of intimacy so foreign to him.

simon scooted up your body and laid his head on your tits. built-in pillows, one might call them. you hand went to his hair again, slowly scratching his scalp. “this ok?” you never touched like this, had never touched him like something precious. he grunted, a yes in “ghost” as you liked to call it. you continued running your hand through his hair, surprised at the softness of his locks. his face was against your breast, and usually you’d be embarrassed, but lines had been crossed and all bets were off. his body was heavy, sure, but the weight of it was comforting. all you could think of was him, not the annoying recruit from this morning, not the bad dinner you had at the mess hall. only the smell of the base shampoo and his natural musk, something uniquely him but not gross.

all simon could hear was your heartbeat. it had quickened when he first laid down, but now it was slowing to a comforting beat. you were here, you were breathing. the gunfire and the smell of bombs in his head meant nothing as long as he had you like this, in his arms where no one could hurt you. he could feel your body relaxing, muscles losing the day’s tension and giving themselves over to sleep. as your breathing slowed and you moved to a lower, more comfortable position on his pillow, he knew time could stop and all that would matter was you, right here, with him.

simon’s lover calls him bub.

“love you, bub.”

“s’okay, bub. don’t worry about it.”

“how was your day, bub?”

and he grumbles. says pet names are corny but at least it’s not baby or babe.

but the second you call him simon, he’s on alert. back straightening, ears going hot, hands clamming, and going into a panic.

his brows furrowed as he approached you, looking almost nervous.

“can you get me a water, please?”

and he does it, goes through the motions but he’s so in his head. why the fuck did you call him by his name?

downright pouting and petulant when he plunks down next to you. his confusion so palpable you feel it. even turn to him and ask what’s wrong but all he does is shrug. “s’nothin’.”

your eyes narrow but you nod nonetheless. turning back to what you were doing. but before you know it, he’s huffing.

“s’alright for you to keep callin’ me bub. or whatever shite you want.”

and you have to stifle your laugh because of course, of course!

“thanks for the water, bub.”