#t141

# little things, big man ⭐️.

simon shows his love through little actions. you haven’t paid much attention to it until lately when you bent down to pick something up and he covered the edge of the worktop with his hand. and then after that it’s been non stop realisation.

he won’t start eating the meal you’ve cooked for him until you’ve taken the first bite. why should he when you spent so long perfecting it for him? he’s not a selfish bastard when it comes to you, he just can’t bring himself to be.

if you’re craving something late at night and nothing is open, he’ll make it his life’s mission to get it for you. and if he can’t? well he’ll just fuck the craving out until you’re exhausted and fall asleep anyway, “yeah, that’s right… sleep it off, love. we’ll get it for you in the mornin’ shh.”

he loves making sure you have money to splurge on everything. he’d discretely linked his card to your phone and refused to take it off when you noticed money hadn’t been leaving your account. he’s tapping his card in shops before you even have a second to think about buying, “shoes look sexy, wear ‘em for me” or “actin’ like i spent fucking thousands just accept the fucking bracelet.”

he knows your likes and dislikes as though they’re the back of his hand. he’s removing the onions from you burger before you notice they’re there, transferring the pickles from his to yours because they’re your favourite part. and if the take away place forgets the bbq sauce? he’s stomping back in as if he owns it: “my wife asked for bbq sauce so she better fuckin’ get it,” whilst you stand there, cheeks heated and chewing your lip nervously with an attempt to calm him down as you wrap your arm around his.

you don’t even have to complain the big light is too much when you’re reading in the night in bed, the next day there’s two little lamps waiting for you and a grumble to keep both when you say you simply can’t decide between them.

and you can’t even remember the last time you haven’t received flowers when he comes home, tulips because they’re your favourite but he manages to make them look different and special each time. “think i’m comin’ home empty handed? bullshit love, take this shite and shove it in water.”

he doesn’t know how to say he loves you often, his defences keep him from it but he finds a way to show it anyway. and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make life easier to live for you day by day because you don’t deserve difficulty. he’ll make sure of it.

(inspired by the toxic price and x vs y posts, by @rawme-price )

toxic price who cheats on you and then blames you... mmm.... mm.... its because you were pregnant and so so tired, weren't you love? and daddy just needed to get off, it doesn't mean anything, does it? who owns the house, and pays the bills? and you just nod, because yeah, you have been tired, and he does pay the bills and everything, and you can't even be there to let him blow off steam, so it's right of him to just blow off steam somewhere else. it's just blowing off steam, right? you guess, you can't tend to his needs, not when you're so exhausted and heavy with the pregnancy. and he's a captain, on the fast track to become a general, he deserves this. and it doesn't mean anything, right? it's just his secretary, and a pretty clerk, and a cute office worker, it doesn't mean much.

vs

stalker simon! who went home with you that night, ripping off your dress the moment the two of you made it through the door. you didn't seem to question how he knew exactly which way your bedroom was or where you kept your toys, you were just too consumed by your lust for the mysterious and sexy stranger man before you.

stalker simon! who pulled orgasm after orgasm from you that night, your lips set in an almost permanent o and cunt covered in a glistening sheen of your juices. he watched your face scrunch up at every thrust to your cervix and your tits jiggle with every pump, savouring the close ups. No picture or grainy hidden camera footage had anything on this, the sight of you fucked out right beneath him was a gift granted to him by god for all the suffering he'd had to endure, he was sure of it.

stalker simon! who'd practically milked himself dry that night, filling and stuffing your poor cunny with his fat cock and milky cum. Every thrust of his cock was met with your background vocals, mewling and pleading for more. And who was he to deny you your pleasure? He savoured every sound that fell from your lips and every arch of your back, fucking in and out of you till his dick was practically chafing, he didn't want it to end.. and it never would as long as he had anything to say.

stalker simon! who always had a trick up his sleeve, a sneaky cunning little plan. He was oh so happy he’d replaced all your birth control with placebos a couple of weeks back, his plan being setting in motion long ago. he'd planned on perhaps a less intimate and direct approach... but who was he to say no when you'd been served on a platter, clad in a too-short dress right for him to eat. he knew pumping you full of his sticky semen tonight was bound to take, he was a very virile man after all.

stalker simon! who didn't end up staying the night, even if he wanted to. he needed to create a bit of mystery a bit of angst for his plan to work... and he could watch you, pants down from the comfort of his room anyways.

stalker simon! who went home long before you awoke, watched the tapes of you two fucking making love and fisted his cock at the sight. he filed and encrypted them for only his (and his equally filthy friends) eyes to see.

stalker simon! who a couple weeks later watched you, on the bathroom cameras, as you took the test. Positive.

stalker simon! who knew it was time to step up and be a daddy, to the two of you. there was no way you'd be getting rid of him now, never getting out of his tightly wound clutches and sharp jaws.

stalker simon! who accidentally bumped into you at the pharmacy and acted oh so surprised when you told him the news...

taglist: @popppylove @marimoares @havoc973 @jmivenus @rerejunebug @helichopter @bakedpotato12 @viscade @vanillarosekiss @punkkture

The 141 had been looking for a feline hybrid to join the team for quite some time, needing someone with the agility and stealth that the team are lacking.

Don’t get me wrong, the 141 are plenty inconspicuous, but they are limited by their size. A Komodo dragon, painted dog, vulture and sun bear hybrid are not exactly small species which can pose some issues when it comes to “quiet” approaches to breaching buildings, not like they can sneak in through any air vents, leaving them with often limited options.

Cue Price stumbling across your file when assessing potential recruits. The word tiger immediately catches Price’s eyes, he skims down to the key descriptions on your file. Night vision, adept climber, something about being an “Australian wild cat”, seems like a great fit.

Of course the team greet you on your arrival, taking in the bright eyes, whiskers and long tail you sport. Your ears are on the smaller size than they’ve seen in a feline hybrid before but every subspecies is slightly different so they don’t pay much mind. Cute is the word they would use to sum you up, not exactly the fierce tiger they were expecting.

After the brief introduction the team lets you head off to the barracks to settle in, sharing a fleeting look between them conveying their slight doubt at your ability, your not exactly intimidating to look at, but they’ll give you a chance to prove yourself before they move you on and look for someone else.

However as the first week unfolds the four of them start to get the sense that there’s something just… off about you.

You who seem to be almost hyper alert, even skittish. Disappearing from the common room quicker than Soap can process when he accidentally knocks a mug off the bench with his tail.

Who always seems to stretch “wrong” when warming up to spar with Gaz, instead of doing the typical cat like stretch you do it almost the opposite, stretching your back forwards with your legs elongated behind you. When Gaz brings it up you just shrug it off, saying it’s just what feels comfortable.

You, whose smell is weirdly earthy and almost bitter when Price picks up your scent when flicking out his forked tongue. Usually cat hybrids smell almost sweet to him, but then again he’s not met enough to know if all cats smell the same.

You, who when siting across from Ghost in the mess stretches your mouth open to yawn, except your jaw widens further than it should, and your teeth are sharper than any cat he’s ever met. You meet Ghost’s concerned expression with a raised brow, a silent question that goes unanswered as he focuses back on his meal, feathers rustling uncomfortably.

Your eyes are too small, your tail is too long, you move too erratically. All little things but they lead to the team feeling on edge.

It all finally comes to a head when you’re sent on a mission together. Those cat like skills do prove useful as you scale a tree and slink onto a warehouse roof without issue. The mission seems to go almost perfectly in fact, the team get in quickly and quietly with your help. They clear out rooms with minimal cross fire. In fact, despite your slight oddness, this might be the thing that convinces them you’re the right fit for the task force.

That is until a hostile somehow gets the jump on Soap, tackling him to the floor. Your response is to launch onto the enemy’s back, sinking your sharp teeth into the base of his skull, a sickening crunch sounding in the room as the man goes limp.

You step back from the body, hauling Soap to his feet before wiping the blood off your face onto your sleeve. The team stare at you wide eyed with a mixture a fear and slight admiration.

“Cat’s aren’t supposed to have that strong a bite force.”

You look up to meet Ghost’s gaze, frowning slightly at his words.

“Good thing I’m not a cat.”

There’s gonna be some serious confusion to work out when they all get back to base but the team knows one thing, they’ve officially found their new member.

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Hey hey hey. Long time lurker, first time poster. This very much a self indulgent piece that I wrote in one sitting before falling asleep so it will probably be typo galore

Might write more, might not, who knows

Any way if you like it let me know, send my asks for ideas etc if I have energy maybe I’ll do more

✶ pairing › olderbf!ghost x reader x könig.

✶ warnings › age gap (reader is in her 20s), cucking, oral sex, penetration, creampie, slight yaoi if you squint, praise, cheating, choking (with dick… u’ll see).

✶ a/n › not particularly fond of the way this was written. enjoy.

“ah, ah,” he tapped your cheek, your pouty lips wrapped around his thick cock. “wider, like i taught you,” he bucks his hips up into your mouth gently, his calloused thumb massaging your chin as your warm, sticky saliva dripped down your neck and onto his old floorboards.

it’s not your fault you’re inexperienced. he’s your third boyfriend but he’s, by far, the biggest. he’s just so thick and you can’t take him like you want to.

his cock tapped against your lips twice before he pulls back, tucking his dick into his boxers. “do i really have to teach you everythin’, doll?” he cocked his head deliberately, making your stomach drop with embarrassment.

he finished zipping his pants before walking to your living room, you hear him dial a few numbers before the phone rings.

You didn't mean to listen in but the moment you hear Ghost mention how excited he is to take his wife out properly when this deployment ends, your stomach drops. It's devastating to think that the nights you two have spent curled up together, no masks or baggage coming between you, baring your souls and bodies to each other and taking the guided tour through every scar - that those nights haven't meant nearly as much to Ghost as they have to you. And even worse, that maybe he's got someone else waiting for him at home with whom he's spent those nights before.

The two of you haven't spoken about what'll happen when the base closes down in a few months' time, but you still find yourself daydreaming about returning to Simon's little London flat together, trying to make something of your relationship out in the real world. Now it feels like that fantasy was just a pipe dream, and one you were taking away from some poor other girl waiting for her soldier to return from the war.

It's only a couple of hours later your soldier comes to find you, a usual visit to your little desk that he's been finding excuses for long before he had the nerve to ask you out for a drink off-base. He can see something's wrong from the way you barely glance up at him, instead staring around the hastily constructed office to find somewhere for a private conversation.

"Follow me." You try to keep your tone level as the hurt threatens to burst out of your chest, the now worried Lieutenant hastily following you into a small supply closet and ripping off his mask so he can get a better look at your pained expression. You know if you try to hold it in it'll only get worse so you take a deep breath and just let the words spill out before any tears can, "I don't think you should come and see me like this anymore. I overheard you talking to the Captain this morning. About Mrs. Riley. I don't want to be with someone who has a wife back home, Ghost."

Every word is like a blade to his heart, none more so that the way you used his nickname when usually you're the one person that calls him Simon. Who says his real name like it's a good thing, something to be treated kindly, not a weapon made to carry out orders. He's suddenly terrified. But not because your accusation is true, but because he's so worried the real story will only drive you away just as quickly.

"I'm not married, love." He needs you to know that's true above all else, that he would never betray you or anyone that way. "When Captain was talking about my wife...he meant you. Because that's what I've been calling you. Since just about the first time you spoke to me. Definitely after the second time, I was already a goner. You're the Mrs. Riley I want to take out when I leave this place." If he's lying, it's very convincing, a crease forming over his brow with genuine fear of how you might respond to his overzealous confession.

"Really?" You really want to believe him, the morning spent thinking you had lost your possible future together only reinforcing how much you wanted this from him.

"I swear. You can ask any of the task force fellas. Or anyone who's transferred here in the last few months..."

"You've been telling the new recruits I'm your wife?" You laugh in surprise, the bashful expression flooding his face with colour almost worth the day's anguish.

"Well I didn't want them to get their hopes up when they met you. Because I don't want anyone else to be yours." He can see the resolve softening in your features as you take in his words, the mental image of your Ghost pointing you out to his team members and planning your life together mending every crack in your fragile heart. He takes a step closer to you and lets his hands find your waist, watching you scan the every feature of his decorated face and never once recoiling. "I can promise you love, there's no else for me. And there never has been. Only you. As long as you'll still have me?" He barely has time to finish the question before your lips land on his, teeth clashing slightly as you both smiled into kiss, Simon lifting you effortlessly until your legs find his waist and he can hold you even closer.

"Of course I'll keep you, you have no idea how upset I was when I thought you had a wife!" You laugh out, the relief on your face only flooding his chest with affectionate warmth.

"I do have a wife." He replies with renewed intensity, taking your acceptance of his truth as further encouragement to keep the label. With one arm looped under your hips to keep you in place, the other begins playing with the fastening of your trousers, his lips trailing along your neck. "And I think we should start practicing for the honeymoon."