nat;

biker!simon who takes his new loud bike to go to an appointment downtown, very satisfied by his latest purchase.

biker!simon who parks his bike on the sidewalk, engine still running. he's on his phone to check his new doctor's adress again, eyebrows furrowed under his balaclava and helmet.

biker!simon doesn't notice you right away, he does when you are a few meters away from his bike. he looks up, and you're talking to him, he can't hear anything with his helmet but also the loud ass sound of the engine running. he panicks a little, brows furrowing even more, he can't help but notice how beautiful you look, his eyes landing on your phone in your hand. were a woman like you really asking for his number?

after a few seconds that felt like minutes of him looking at you intently, simon decides to turn off his bike to hear you better. he's a bit excited to hear what you are saying to him, he doesn't know what he was expecting but it was definitely not this.

"can you turn down your fucking engine ? you biker guys are insufferable" you spit at him as you walk away with a nasty look.

the world as we know it has ended and mother nature starts taking back what’s hers. there are no zombies or cannibals or murderous bandits. the most valued members of the community are those who know how to garden and farm, sew and weave, treat wounds, work wood or build with bricks, cook from scratch. 

people bond together to begin rebuilding instead of killing each other. everyone teaches each other whatever they do know and works together to figure out the stuff none of them know. books become incredibly valued resources because they’re often the only way to learn critical information. if someone is elderly, disabled, or otherwise unable to work at the same level as most of the community, they’re taken care of by the others, not told any sort of “survival of the fittest” bs.

Put him in front of a thousand flashing cameras that will have his face plastered on every global sports news outlet and the most intense thing he'll feel is a simmering irritation. But the feeling of that little black box sitting in his hand makes his vision start to vignette if he thinks about it too much.

(It's so small, sitting in his hand, the ring inside even smaller. Yet the weight of it, the image of it on your hand, is immeasurable.)

The day he finally decides to ask you was the product of months of agonizing over it. Should he just hand the box to you? Just ask, not even include the ring? Fuck if he knows. He never thought he'd get this far, never thought he'd find you in any lifetime let alone this one.

He's not sure he actually makes a decision, but he finds himself picking a random day on one of the morning walks you take together when the weather allows.

Simon has been so caught up in his head that he doesn't realize how weird he's been acting all day, weirder than usual at least. He especially doesn't notice the worried looks you've been shooting him.

He's spoken maybe one complete sentence all morning and has maybe blinked twice, his mind fully anchored on the black box shoved in the recesses of his pocket.

He walks beside you rigid as an ironing board, marching like he's going to war. Eventually, you hover your hand over his arm, slowing to a stop.

"Si, are you oka--"

"I don't want to be your boyfriend anymore."

Silence.

"W-what?" He can barely hear you over his pulse thundering in his ears. It's the tone of your voice that truly reaches him. Small, a little scared. It churns his gut even more and there is a moment when he's genuinely concerned he might actually hurl.

"No. I mean--" He curses so low under his breath all you hear is him growling like a dog at himself.

He turns his back to you, hands fumbling in his jacket pocket. The box gets stuck and he's there flailing around, nearly ripping his jacket trying to get the bastard thing out.

And when he turns back around, sees your precious face, sees the woman whose side he never wants to leave, he drops to his knees.

Not the one. Both of them.

He doesn't realize.

Simon opens the box so fast he nearly tears the lid clean off. The ring that has been haunting him for months glinting from the cushion inside. He looks up at you with his huge brown eyes, more anxiety in them than you've ever seen. His dry throat clicks when he swallows. His mouth opens and all he can get out is:

"Please?"

Most of the men you meet aren't all that interesting, but there's this one guy...fucking hilarious, witty, a bit dry. His chat name might be "deadmeat" but by the pictures he sends it's anything but.

Deadmeat: thought of you again, bloody mess. Can't wait to have you.

The picture attached is his usual, hard cock covered in at least two previous loads, tip flushed pink and wanting. The calloused, tattooed hand it's cradled in is what drew you in initially. Most folk in the chat room were...well...gifted in size, and as fun as it is to imagine you can hardly manage two fingers on a good long day.

But this man? Perfect fit. About the width of his palm, fingers easily wrapping around. Not small by any means, but definitely not heart-stopping in a bad way.

You: just a few more days. Got the motel booked?

You make sure it's safe, of course you do. Swapping photos together in anticipation for the day.

Deadmeat, or ghost as he requested you call him now, is...a little different than you expected. Tall, for one, nearly brushing his head on the top of the doorframe when you nervously unlock the motel room.

You don't quite realize the breath of your mistake until you and ghost are half undressed in bed and you slip a hand under his waistband. You slide you hand along the soft hair at his base, wrap your hand over it and—

...no. no way.

The amusement on ghosts face as you frantically shove his pants down and pull out his dick is palpable. Holy shit, he's massive. You're a few centimeters shy of wrapping your hand around him, not to mention the length.

You swallow thickly, glance up at him.

The fucker has the audacity to chuckle, reaching down to wrap his impossibly large hands around his dick, give himself a few pumps "well? Everything you were expecting? Don't worry, i can make it fit."

Because you're under the impression soap is a seal, you follow the law and do not touch him. Marine mammals are protected, and as a diver you respect that.

If only soap could show you the same respect.

Instead, you are forced to hold your hands up while a very curious and familiar seal practically purrs against you, gently biting to explore the newest additions to your gear.

Usually he's not an issue, most seals are curious and so long as you dont touch it, it can touch you. Though, once he decided to climb on top of you while you were drying off on the sand, and for the next five hours all you could do was lie there because rolling him off is technically illegal.

Because you're the only two seals in the sanctuary, and ghost has been struggling without a pod, stuck away from his own while he's in recovery.

When you first meet ghost, all you can think is that he's scary. Huge, bigger than any seal you've met and so so dangerous! He could tear you to pieces if he wanted! You expect him to do just that when the mer circles you, chuffing and churring, the tip of his tail grazing along your own curiously.

He opens his mouth, sharp teeth on display and coming right for you—

...nothing. no...no pain, no bite into flesh. Just...soft pressure?

You peek an eye open to find the strang scary seal gently gnawing on your fin, exploring it with his mouth. Only then do you see his heavily scarred hands. It must be difficult using those.

So you lie still and let him chew on you...just a bit. It is scary, but when you bark at him he instantly backs off so...not that scary.

From then on you and ghost are inseparable.

"Fuck–! Ahh– right there, simon!" You groan, head tossed back in pure ecstasy. Ghost echoes your groan above you, one large hand gripping your waist and the other holding an arm firmly above your head.

It's been months since you two have seen eachother, and ghost is clearly trying to make up on lost time. Thick thighs keeping yours apart, thrusting into you rough and desperate. There's already a thick ring of white around ghosts base from the other two rounds, but he shows no signs of stopping as he contorts your body to the perfect position.

"Mmhh– c'mon si, more! More, please!" You hook an ankle weakly around his back. Ghost huffs hot air against your face, brows knit together and flushed down to his chest.

Ghost mumbles something filthy, shifting his knees up to get a better position, shoving down on the arm he has pinned in the process. "Mmh...! W–wait! Simon–!"

Crack!

Ghost flinches back at the sudden noise, eyes wide as you gasp in pain and curl away from him, clutching your forearm.

Ghost...ghost broke your arm by putting a bit of his weight on it. He's a wreck the entire way to the urgent care.

"Hey...c'mon sweetie, it's fine." You soothe ghost, arm now properly bandaged. He hasn't looked at you the entire time, staring resolutely at the floor. "It was scary, but you didn't mean to, and I'm not mad."

Still, you have to coax ghost onto the bed with you, cuddling him into your chest before he properly settles. You would rather die than tell him that he's kind of crushing your lungs under his weight, offering him a little peck "please tell me you're not gonna stop rearranging my guts because of this."

Reader,  who works as a front desk receptionist at Simon’s and Johnny’s tattoo shop. Who does nothing all day but sit at your desk and read your books, or entertain Johnny in between clients, because they are appointments only and it’s all online. 

Reader, who wears short pencil skirts with tight buttons up or short dresses because it’s "required professional uniform” and not because the buttons press against your chest, leaving a slight gap where Johnny likes to stare at, or when you cross your legs, Simon can’t help but trace your curves with his eyes.

Reader, who makes tea for Simon when he’s free of clients and calls you a good girl when you learn how to make it right. 

Johnny, who likes to spoon-feed you lunch that Simon always buys because you work so hard sitting at the desk and shouldn't lift a finger. 

Reader, who thinks nothing of it when Johnny gropes you when he does your tattoo, because why would you? Johnny and Simon are dating, and you’re just their employee. 

Johnny and Simon, who jerk each other off in their office after seeing you bend over to pick up a stack of papers, exposing your teddy bear print panties.

pairing: simon riley x reader

summary: simon riley takes his girl riley to the vet and meets another dog called riley.

contains: fluff. simon being a dork. reader is charismatic. may be some she/her pronouns.

bug speaks: lowkey running out of steam for this one. any ideas let me know:)

masterlist

request/inbox open :)

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one.

two.

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eleven.

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thirteen.

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fifteen.

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seventeen.

eighteen.

nineteen.

twenty.

twentyone.

twentytwo.

twentythree.

twentyfour.

twentyfive.

twentysix.

more coming?

Ghost x Johnny's Daughter!Reader.

You've got his eyes and his grin, his accent, and his penchant for explosives. Ghost, now Colonel, has been in your periphery most of your life. Whenever your mother struggled, he was there to help. Financially mostly (paying rent, groceries, child care, whatever else needed), and rarely the two of them would get together to reminisce over Johnny.

He kept tabs on you but largely stepped out of your and your mother's lives when she remarried. When you enlisted, following your father's footsteps, your mother begs Ghost to keep on eye on you, to make sure you're as safe as possible.

Unfortunately for him, you're good. He sees Soap in the way you clear objectives. The military notices too and it isn't long before you're hitting another milestone set by your father, ranking up.

It's the first time that he says your name and rank, "Sergeant MacTavish," and you grin at him, the scar on your chin pulling up with your smile, that Simon's heart flips. Heat that he hasn't felt in over 20 years igniting a possessive lust in him.

He lost Soap to your mother first, then to Makarov. But he had more power now, over others and over you -- you followed him around like an eager puppy-- he'd made damn sure he wouldn't lose you too.

(He accidentally gives you your callsign. In a moment when you remind him too much of his best friend, "speak English, Soap." Now everyone calls you Soap.)

Johnny and Kyle have played another one of their pranks on you, and now you're fighting with them. If it weren't for your aggressive words and gestures, the sergeants would think you were just talking to them normally.

"I swear, if you do that again, I'll finish you both off, you hear me?"

And they just smile, nodding as they look at each other. God, you're so cute thinking you're going to scare them with that little voice.

Simon and Price even tried to get you to "really yell," according to them. Honey, no one will take you seriously if you keep using that soft tone.

And then they start their "exercise," shouting harsh phrases and making you repeat them.

"No, honey, you need to raise your voice more, come on."

"Talk like you're yelling at those stupid recruits."

Those were some of their recommendations.

You love all kinds of dolls. The stuffed kind, the porcelain kind, even the wooden ones. Baby dolls, fluffy animals, creepy dolls. Even those old racist ones you take in, put in a glass case to be preserved, donated to museums when you find one that'll take them.

You love all dolls and think that, no matter what they look like or their origin, they should be preserved for one reason or another.

One day while browsing an antique shop, you find a pair of soldier dolls, made from felt and something heavier. One is a white man, the other black. Both wearing a skull shaped mask. Quite old too, from around the 70s.

You buy them, taking them home with you happily.

And as was your tradition, that very first night you brought them home, they got to share your bed with you. One placed on either side of your bed so that as you tossed and turned in your sleep, they'd get equal amount of cuddling.

You fall asleep content, alone, sprawled out.

When you wake up though, you're squished, pressed between two somethings, and it's hot. You reach out, feeling whatever you were pressed against.

Solid. Warm. Squishy.

Hand patting lower, you suddenly heard a chuckle in your ear.

"Bit forward, ey, love?"

Your eyes snapped open, hand pulled back immediately. You stared at the man in your bed, light skinned and blond and with that... skull mask...

And then you felt a presence at your back as well.

"Morning, sugar." A low voice whispered in your ear, a heavy palm settling on your hip. "Sleep well?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw what you suspected already.

Dark skin, scale-like scars, another skull mask.

"H-how?" You ask, flustered and confused as the dolls you bought yesterday pressed against you, keeping you between them.

"Does it matter? You've got two blokes in your bed." The first said, playfully tugging on your hair.

"Yeah, and they're really interested in getting to know you." The second said, kissing behind your ear.

Streamer Ghost x Reader

Word Count: 1.2K

CW: Drinking implied/mentioned

Again, I tried to make Reader GN. Pls let me know if I didn't.

Part 2

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Finally! Your friends had all finally gotten a night off together and actually made plans to go out. You finish up getting ready, just needing shoes. You check your phone and see the “on my way” message from your friend. Checking the time and doing some quick math means they’ll be here in a few minutes. Might as well go bother your roommate. He’s a decent guy; you met him through friends of friends years ago. Then, when your living situation got bad two years ago, he offered to move you into the second bedroom of his apartment. 

You come out of your room to see Ghost standing in the kitchen in front of the stove. He’s got a mask on his face and has his phone set up in that holder he uses when he is streaming. It sounds like he is teaching his viewers how to make homemade fish and chips. You walk into the kitchen, grabbing a drink from the fridge. 

Ghost glances at you. Jesus why do they always have to look so good? He brings focus back to the fish in the pan. “You look nice, you going out?” 

You steal a chip from the plate “Yeah. The group finally all have the same night off.” 

Ghost tries not to steal a glance at your lips against the chip. He nods, flipping the fish. “You gonna need me to come get you later?” Please say yes, you’re always so cute when you’re stumbling out of the bar and yelling compliments at random people just trying to get home. 

“No, Mikha offered to drive.” 

Fuck. “Mikha is the one that doesn’t drink right?” 

You steal another chip. “Yeah, he’s allergic to alcohol so, built in DD. In exchange we’ll be buying his food and sodas all night.” 

“Stop stealing my chips, thief.” Ghost laughs

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I need something in my system so I don’t black out again.”

Ghost takes the fish from the pan and plops it onto the plate with the chips. Remembering that time where you got blackout drunk and passed out completely naked on the living room floor. It was… a tough night. “Yeah, please don’t black out again. That was not fun.” Ghost hands you the plate. “Here, eat what you can before you leave.”

You start eating, thankful for the food. You nod to his phone. “You streaming?”

Ghost adds more battered fish to the hot oil. “Yeah, teaching ‘em how to make fish and chips.”

“Ooooooh, fancy” You joke

“Oh, shut up.” 

You open the fridge, digging for dipping sauce. “How many followers are you up to now?”

Ghost definitely doesn’t glance at your ass. “300K.” 

Sauce obtained, you dip your fish. “How many do you assume are following you solely because of the mask?”

“Hey! You calling me a bad cook?”

“No, I’m just saying… masks are popular right now.”

“Oh, so you’re a mask enthusiast now?”

“Hey.” You point the piece of fish in your fingers at him, “I’ve always been a mask enthusiast, so I would absolutely know. Don’t change the subject, answer the question.”

Mask enthusiast? I wonder if they like my mask. No, Simon. NO! They’re just your roommate. “I dunno.” Ghost looks up at the camera. “How many of you are following me because of the mask?” He sees the messages flood with varying comments and groans, tilting his head back.

You lean in and look at the messages. Haha! I was right! Lots of messages talking about following for the mask, the mask being a bonus, some are about his groan, etc. When you come into view a few comments pop up complimenting you. 

“Awww, thank you guys.” You look away from the screen, back to Ghost. “Ha, I was right. It also seems like they want you to groan again.” You tilt your head. “Have you thought about making one of those intimate video sites yet?”

Don’t look at them bending over. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Why do they have to keep bending over? Ghost pauses for a moment, head still tilted back so he isn’t tempted to stare at your bent over form. “Uhhh, no. I haven’t.”

You roll your eyes, moving out of view of the camera to continue eating your food. “Well you should. I know your fans will eat it up and it’s good money, trust me.”

Trust you? What do you mean by that? Ghost brings his gaze back to the fish cooking in the pan. He feels a pang of jealousy but tries to keep his body language neutral as he flips the fish.  “Oh what, you subscribe to a bunch of people, is that it?” Say no, gods please say no.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “No, I own one of those accounts. I thought I told you?”

Jesus, they do. Don’t think about it. Don’t imagine it. Ghost is lucky he is wearing a mask so you and his viewers cannot see his face. “You do?” 

“Yeah, it pays my bills, baby. Matter of fact….” You turn to the camera. “Follow me on there.”

Some of the viewers ask for your username on there.

Please say it. Please don’t actually say it. The war inside Ghost begins. It’s quickly interrupted by your voice.

“Oop! Mikha is here. Thank you for the food! I’ll see you later.” You put the half-eaten plate down onto the counter and wave to the viewers. “Bye guys!” You rush to the door and grab your shoes, quickly throwing them on.

“Bye.” Ghost calls out. 

“Byeeee!” You yell back as you rush out the door. 

Ghost shakes his head, turning his attention back to his stream. He’s still trying to reign in his racing thoughts when a message in the chat catches his attention. 

Imjustadog54: FOUND IT!!!

Oh no.

Freakaleak69: Drop it!!

Oh God.

Imjustadog54: HunBun96 :) 

Fuck.

The rest of the stream is spent divided between the viewers talking about your site and trying to convince him to make one. 

Once the stream is over, Ghost removes his mask, sitting at his desk with his plate of food. Don’t do it Si, just eat your food and do anything else. He pulls up a random show and starts to eat. But his mind continues to wander back to the fact that you have one of those sites. That one of his viewers found your username HunBun96. Did you want them to have your username? HunBun96. Stop it! Were you going to give it to them? You brought it up. No. Just, focus on something else, anything else. Don’t look it up. Just eat your food. Watch the show or something. Yeah something…NO! 

Ghost manages to eat his food, he does the dishes, and starts some laundry. He sits back down at his desk. Okay, maybe just one little look. So I can stop thinking about it of course. No other reason. Ghost pulls up the site. What if they don’t want me looking at it. I mean, they brought it up in front of me and were surprised I didn't know. Maybe they do want me to look at it? UGH. Ghost groans, tilting his head back against his chair. This is so frustrating and confusing. This stupid crush, it’s only gotten worse since you moved in. He scrubs his hands down his face, letting out a deep sigh. Okay. He decides. One look, just one quick look to get it out of my system. That’s it. Ghost makes an account and types in your username. Just a quick look.

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A/N: As always, thank you for reading my fics <3. Sorry for any and all spelling/grammatical errors. Hey, I finally had my best friend beta read this one.

Words: 1.0k

Warnings: hints of smut, GN!reader.

Masterlist ->

Authors Note: this is in the order of who noticed first.

SOAP

Soap was the first one that noticed. While you were talking to him he couldn't help but get distracted by your lips, eyes trained on them unapologetically as he hums in acknowledgement to show hes listening. Until a flash of metal catches his eyes, all logic goes out the window and he is no longer listening to what you're saying.

His eyes go wide, a flutter of excitement in his chest at what he potentially just saw in your mouth. His large hand grabs your jaw abruptly, making you stop your speech. "Open your mouth for me bonnie" theres a teasing tone to his voice, his voice playful with hiden desire. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out with a knowing smirk. His brain immediately short circuits.

"Oh fuck" he practically moans at the sight of the small metal ball resting on your tongue, his grip tightening on your jaw as a smirk grows on his face. "Well would you look at that" he has the stronge urge to see how the metal would feel against him, his cock twitches at the thought. "You have no idea what you're doing to me baby" his voice drops a octave, his eyes unable to look away from your pierced tongue.

GAZ

He heard soap talking about how their little bird has been hiding a tongue piercing from them, now he can't help but want a peak for himself. "Hey" he greets you with a smile as he walks into the base kitchen. You greet him back before continuing making your tea. He let's his eyes roam over your form as your back is turned to him, mind full of the piercing hiding in your mouth.

You feel him burning holes into the back of your head so you turn to face him, making him chuckle at being caught. He stalks closer to you, his hand gently coming up to caress your waist "soap won't shut up about you, you know?" He says, a confused look crosses your face, until he speaks up. "Let me see" it took you a second to realize what he ment, before opening your mouth and slightly sticking your tongue out for him to see.

Hes silent for a moment, simply taking the small piercing in with dark eyes. Before he huffs out a small laugh and bites his bottom lip, involuntary thoughts of how you would use the piercing on him "yeah I get it" he tilts his head with a smile and let's you go, now walking back towards the door like that was the only reason he came into the kitchen (it was)

GHOST

You stepped out for a small break, standing with your back against the cold building wall, the clouds cover the sky as you take in the fresh air. A door opening breaks you from your thoughts, a large figure emerges from it. Ghost steps out into the cold, eyes already finding you. You greet him as he comes closer, theres a slight determination to his steps, like he came out here for a reason.

Before you could say much, hes already in front of you, pretty much caging you in between the stone wall and his large frame. Looking up at him, you wonder if you're in trouble. until he simply says "Open" his voice rumbles into the open air, the command heavy on his tongue. Ever since he heard soap and gaz talking about the little piercing non stop, the intrusive thoughts of you running that pretty piercing along his cock invades his mind. he NEEDS to see it himself.

Obeying the command by opening your mouth and letting him see inside, he goes silent. His gaze narrowed and heavy as he looks at the metal adoring your tongue. His hand raises before gripping your jaw, his thumb pulling at your chin to open your mouth wider for him. He then puts his thumb on your tongue, taking you off guard, his thumb gently rolls over the piercing, flicking it a few times in curiosity. The movement makes you let out a small whine Involuntarily, making his eyes shoot up to meet yours. He lets his hand fall and lets out a small deep hum of satisfaction "pretty"

PRICE

Being called into the captain's office was nerve wracking, could you have possibly did something wrong? You're captain Price sits behind his desk in front of you, simply looking you over as silence fills the room. You shift in your chair from his heavy eyes trailing over you, making him chuckle before finally standing. He rounds the desk in a stalking manner, like hes about to pounce on you. He leans against the desk right in front of your seated form, crossing his arms.

"Stand up" the demand is simple, you immediately follow it by standing up from the wooden chair. You now stand in front of him. "You're not in trouble" his easy tone lets your tense shoulders drop, letting out a sigh of relief. He uncrosses his arms and nods his head to the side to beckon you closer "come 'ere" your face heats at his soft tone, taking the few steps to come closer to him. His hands rest on your hips as he speaks up "ive heard talk of a piercing" he teases "wanna show me?" You stick out your tongue at his request, making him offer a low satisfied groan.

Soap is a good lad, but his priorities are a little twisted. He calls you bonnie instead of by your name or rank, and goes out of his way to be gentlemanly. Holding doors, letting you have the last packet of tea. It’d warm your heart if it didn’t extend to training, too. He pulls his punches when you spar and doesn’t take you down to the mat half as viciously as he does with Gaz or Ghost. If it ever came down to it, he tells you one day, he’d never leave you behind. 

You had shaken your head. “Team comes first, Johnny.”

He only smiles, winks.

You let it go because his chivalry has its perks. In bed, Johnny’s pathetic, resting his head on your thighs and looking up at you with big blue eyes, practically begging to go down on you. He asks for the bare minimum in return, more intent on pleasing you than pleasing himself.